“I know it seems that way.” Striker finished his coffee and made ‘getting ready to leave’ motions. “But the trick is to find the one person that all the clues fall into place for. So, if you come up with any others, let me know … it could mean the difference between narrowing things down to the real killer or not.”

He pushed up from the table and I followed suit, all the while thinking about the big ring Lavinia had said the killer was wearing. Glancing around the shop, I picked out several people who had big rings on. Like the other clues, it wasn’t much to go on and I couldn’t tell Striker about it anyway … not unless I wanted to tell him I talked to ghosts. Which I didn’t.

Striker swiped up my sandwich wrappings and paper cup and tossed them in the trash, then opened the door for me and we stepped out onto the street. It was dusk, but the clouds had dispersed and a setting slice of sun glittered cheerfully on the street.

“I’m parked down there.” Striker pointed down the street, and I could see the police car a few spots past my shop.

“I have to go that way, too,” I said, starting in that direction. “Gotta stop in the shop and pick up my cat.”

Striker fell in beside me and I was suddenly awkwardly aware of his presence. He was walking kind of close, which, I noticed with annoyance, made my pulse skitter.

I tried to stick to business. “So, what made you share the clues with me?”

Striker snorted. “It was obvious you weren’t going to stop looking into this, so I figured it was better to join forces so I could keep an eye on you.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you thought I had some clues you couldn’t figure out?” I teased.

Striker laughed, and his wide smile made my stomach flip. We’d reached my shop and he stopped beside me on the sidewalk as I dug around in my pocket for the key.

“Well, thanks for sharing.” I turned toward the door and he touched my arm, turning me back to him.

I looked up at him. His face had turned serious. “Willa, I want you to be very careful on this. Don’t go off on any investigations without talking to me first. We still don’t know the motive for this killing and … well … it could dangerous.”

His gray eyes turned dark with feeling and my mouth dried up.

“Okay,” I croaked.

His grip on my arm tightened and he pulled me a little closer. I held my breath, my stomach tossing the roast beef sandwich around like the Andrea Gail in The Perfect Storm.

Was he going to kiss me?

He dipped his head toward mine.

And that’s when I threw up on his shoes.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One