The books shifted in the box on the seat beside me as I drove to the bookstore. I probably should let Derek and Carson look through them before I stocked them on my shelves. I knew there were no more photo albums or scrapbooks, but some of the books were ancient and if they’d had a book in a collection, it should probably go back to the family.

I didn’t have time to go back there now, though. I wanted to open the shop for the full afternoon and hopefully make up for all the time I’d been taking off.

I parked in my spot behind the shop and dragged the box inside, setting it down behind the counter. Potential customers were already peering in the windows, so I hurried over to unlock the door and turn the sign to ‘Open’.

Customers filed in immediately and I enjoyed a busy afternoon with almost record sales. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any time to look at the books in the box or call the Bates’. I’d been so busy, I didn’t even notice it was past five p.m. when the steady stream of customers died down.

The approaching dinner hour emptied the streets and I closed up shop, taking the chance to sneak away and visit Emma over at the church. I doubted she was the one that killed Lavinia, but she did mention she needed money and she was hiding something. If nothing else, maybe I could find out what secret Lavinia and Ophelia shared.

***

The white doors of the church loomed in front of me. They were big, standing about twelve-feet tall. And they were locked.

Oversized brass latches adorned the front. I pulled and tugged on them, but the doors wouldn’t open. Did the church close? I thought it was always open.

I turned away from the doors, my shoulders slumping. I was batting zero in my investigation today—I hadn’t been able find out anything about the bronzes and now I wouldn’t be able to talk to Emma, either.

“Mew.”

I turned to my left and recognized the ginger-colored cat Pandora had had the altercation with behind the library. Come to think of it, I’d seen the same cat at Lavinia’s funeral.

I crouched down and put my hand out.

“Here, Kitty,” I crooned, trying to lure the cat over.

The cat looked at me with disdain, then turned toward the woods, walked a few steps, then turned back to look at me again.

“Meow.”

The cat swung around and headed toward the woods again, pausing a second to look back over its shoulder at me, almost as if it was trying to get me to follow it.

Should I?