Staring around the church parking lot, I moved to where Emma had said she was standing at the time she spotted Nathan’s car, and tried to figure out where the vehicle might have come from if not the post office. My conscience still required me to give him the benefit of the doubt until proven guilty. However, it was clear the post office was the only reasonable conclusion since the only other business on the street was the diner, but it wasn’t nearby, and for Nathan, driving past the church lot would’ve been well out of his way.

I walked back to the bookstore and entered to find Pandora sleeping in the same spot in her cat bed as when I’d left earlier. My suspicions rose. Usually, the cat got angry when I went somewhere without her. And when Pandora was angry, she liked to express it by messing with things.

I made a quick inspection of the shop, searching for hairballs or shredded toilet paper strewn about like streamers. Nothing. Frowning, I made my way back to the front of the store and chatted with Hanna while I stowed my purse under the counter. She hadn’t noticed Pandora doing anything nasty, and as far as she knew, the cat had snoozed in her fluffy bed the whole time I’d been gone other than one trip to the litter box in the storage closet.

Maybe Pandora was tired. After all, she’d been up to a lot the night before, getting Striker and me to drink that dandelion tea then confess our secret abilities to one another. And I still couldn’t shake the fact I’d heard her thoughts inside my head. Not like the usual, “Oh, I bet this is what my cat’s thinking” sort of thing either. No. The more I’d thought about it, the more I was convinced that Pandora was trying to communicate with me, telepathically.

A glance at the clock showed it was a quarter after three. My picnic date with Striker in the park was at four thirty, so I had a little bit of time to get some paperwork sorted here at the shop and help out with reshelving and other things. Hanna had already left for the day, but since there were no customers in sight, I didn’t mind closing a little early.

I’d just gathered a stack of returned books in my arms to carry them across the room when the bells jangled above the door. I peered around the end of the aisle to see Barney Delaney standing at the counter.

Setting the books aside, I forced a polite smile. “Hello, Barney. What can I help you with today?”

“I’m looking for a reference book on Canadian coins,” he said, his voice as gruff as his expression. “Figured you might have it. I had a customer bring a collection in, and I need to look up some things.”

“Ah.” I led him over to the section he needed, noticing a silver Prius driving slowly past on the street outside the shop. From where I was standing, it appeared the shadowy driver was trying to peer inside the bookstore. I squinted and saw a ding on the passenger-side door, and my feet fumbled.

Was that Nathan Anderson? Worse, was he here with Barney? I braced a hand against a nearby bookshelf for balance and tried to calm my racing heart as I pointed to the reference books I currently had in stock. “This is all I’ve got right now, I’m afraid. Usually when you need something, you call me first so I can see if I’ve got what you need or can order it, Barney.”

“There wasn’t time. Client just dropped them off, and I need to evaluate them in a hurry. My books don’t have these Canadian coins listed. Let’s see. I brought one over…” He pulled out a large tome and scowled as he flipped through it then took a small packet, which I assumed contained the coin, out of his pocket. He was already wearing the white cotton gloves one used to avoid getting oils on valuable coins, and he took it out of the pouch to compare. “You heard anything new about the murder?”

There were any number of reasons why he might be asking. He and Albert had been friends, after all. The fact that a silver Prius just like Nathan Anderson’s had driven by moments earlier could be pure coincidence.

“Uh, nope. Just what everyone else around here has heard. Why?”

“I want this thing resolved.” Barney scanned the pages of the book, searching intently for something. “My gut tells me that Desmond Lacroix was taking advantage of Albert and that Nathan Anderson was involved somehow. That Anderson might’ve come from an old family with old money, but most of it’s gone now. I’d wager that’s why he’s been sniffing around the Bates family these days, trying to get them to invest in stamps and commodities.”

His unexpected answer got my attention. I crossed my arms and stood a bit firmer. “Stamps and commodities? Can you be a bit more specific?”

Barney looked up then, as if just realizing what he’d let slip. His gaze darted away then, and he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “Sorry. No, I can’t. Really don’t want to cast aspersions on anyone.” He switched the book to his other hand and tried his other back pocket. Then he cursed softly under his breath. “Seems I forgot my wallet.”

“Oh. Just take it.” I stepped back slowly from him, glancing over at Pandora, who still appeared to be sleeping soundly in her bed. Normally inquisitive, she was usually the first one to greet customers when they came in, but not this afternoon. Was she ill? I looked back at Barney, who was watching me with an unreadable expression. “Seriously. You can pay me for it later. It’s not like I don’t know where to find you.”

My joke fell flat.

Barney shuffled toward the exit, mumbling his thanks as he passed.

Barney sure was an odd duck. And Nathan driving by made me nervous. Things were getting weird, but I didn’t have time to mull that over. It was time to meet Striker, and I was starving.