The small park near the center of town was usually very private. Mystic Notch wasn’t exactly a hotbed of activity. Sure, we got a good amount of tourist traffic in the summer, but now that it was past peak foliage season, things were slow. Fine by me. It meant a more private late lunch with Striker. We’d be able to talk about Albert without anyone overhearing.

Today had been strange all around. Poor Pandora still wasn’t acting right either. She hadn’t even meowed when I’d left to meet Striker. She’d barely lifter her head at all. Usually, she’d be trying to sneak out the door behind me. If things didn’t improve by tonight, I’d call the vet and make an appointment for her. I glanced back at the front of the bookstore and was relieved to see her open at least one greenish-gold orb to watch me from her spot in the window. Maybe once she saw me walk away, she’d start clawing at the door in her usual fashion.

I crossed the street and walked down a block to the park. The trees were almost bare now, and it was easy to spot Striker at a picnic table near a small copse of pines at the far corner of the space. As I got closer, I saw that he’d laid out a whole spread of food. Forget the sandwiches he’d mentioned earlier. There was fried chicken and coleslaw, rolls and butter, mashed potatoes, and even corn.

“Hey,” he said, his gray eyes warm as I approached. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted from the diner, so I got a bit of everything on special.” The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and tiny flutters of attraction took flight inside me. I slid onto the bench across from him and set my purse beside me before filling my plate with goodies.

“How’s your day going?” Striker asked, tearing into a chicken leg.

“Weird,” I answered truthfully. I filled him in on Barney Delaney’s recent visit to my shop as I buttered a roll. “He thinks Desmond’s got something to do with Albert’s death.”

“Can’t.” Striker polished off his chicken leg then grabbed another from the box. “Guy’s got an airtight alibi. He was at the emergency clinic the morning Albert Schumer died. Doctor and nurse both verify that he was there, having his stitches looked at. Seems they were getting infected.”

“Could he have faked it?” I nibbled on a chunk of chicken breast. The deep-fried breading was salty and spicy and melted in my mouth, while the chicken was tender and succulent. Score another winner for the local diner. “Or maybe he rushed over there after killing Albert.”

“Nah.” Striker wiped his hands then pulled out his trusty notebook from his pocket and flipped through it. “No way. The clinic told me they log everything into their computer, and the medical records show Lacroix was with Dr. Green at five forty-five, the time of Albert’s death.”

“Hmm.” I took a bite of creamy mashed potatoes, frowning. “You think his injury is real?”

“Would have to be, unless Dr. Green is lying too.” Striker shrugged and took a sip from his water bottle. “Since you and I have a special ‘in’ with Albert, perhaps we can ask him if Desmond really had carpal tunnel the next time we see him.” He winked at me. “My knee’s still aching from that fall the other night, so more of Pepper’s tea would be in order.”

I smiled, genuinely this time, enjoying the warm tingles of companionship I felt around him now. We’d gotten off to a rocky start, what with Striker thinking I was a criminal and all the first time we’d met, but the truth was I’d always been attracted to him. And I think the feeling was mutual. We’d been dating ever since. And now, apparently, we were trying to solve murders together. I made a mental note to try to conjure up Albert’s ghost so I could ask him about Desmond. While I was at it, I’d ask about the argument with Barney too. What if this whole thing had nothing to do with Hester Warren’s letter and he’d argued with Barney that morning again and it had turned deadly?

But no matter what his answer, my money was on Nathan and Felicity. After all, Emma had seen Nathan’s car leaving the scene of the crime.

Now—with our shared “talents”—I felt closer to Striker than ever. “Yeah, maybe.” I took a bite of corn, savoring its sweet, buttery flavor. “I walked over and talked to Emma Potts this morning too. She said she saw Nathan Anderson driving away from the post office around the time Albert was murdered. Since Ruthie scared whoever did the deed away, maybe Nathan is guilty.”

“Nathan Anderson, huh?” Striker narrowed his gaze. “That’s odd. He called in right before I left to come here. Reported a break-in at his shed.”

“Oh really? He drove by my shop really slowly when Barney was in there. I recognized the car from Emma’s description.”

Striker made a face. “There could be more than one person with the same car.”

“Don’t think so. His had a dent on the passenger-side door.”

“Hmm… well, I’ll see if I can sway Gus into digging deeper into him. I did tell her you heard him arguing with Felicity about a letter. Killing someone to steal something of value out of their hand is motive.”

“And I wouldn’t put it past Felicity to get Nathan to do her dirty work then screw him over when it came time for the payoff. That’s probably what the argument was about.” I finished my roll, contemplating whether I should mention the pleasantry charm or not, then decided why not? After all, Striker could see ghosts just like me. Odds were good he wouldn’t find the possibility of magic being real that weird, right? I finished the last of my food then pushed my plate away to rest my clasped hands on the tabletop. “Pepper mentioned that the letter Albert had could’ve been a list of ingredients.”

“Ingredients for what?” Striker asked as he packed up our trash and tossed it in a nearby bin.

I took a deep breath before answering. “A spell.”

“A spell, huh?” Striker took his seat again, toying with his water bottle and not meeting my gaze. If he thought there was anything strange about what I’d said, he didn’t show it. “What kind of spell?”

“A pleasantry charm, from what I’ve been told. Meant to keep the peace around town. Pepper said that if someone was able to assemble all of the ingredients on the list, they could break the charm and cause havoc in Mystic Notch.” I squeezed my hands tighter together. “What if Nathan’s been digging for the ingredients and called in a break-in to cover up ahead of time?”

“Cover up?”

“Yeah, you know, if his shovel is found at the scene of the digging or something.”

“Hmm… that doesn’t make much sense. We wouldn’t be investigating digging during the course of investigating Albert’s death. The police wouldn’t know about this charm or the ingredients, and his digging wouldn’t be linked to the murder.”

Dang, he was right. “I guess. Does he have an alibi for the time of Albert’s murder?”

“Not according to Gus.” Striker sighed, his frown deepening.

“Gus checked his alibi?” I was surprised. If that was true, my sister had taken the information I’d passed along through Striker about Nathan Anderson seriously and had looked into him. Maybe she did value my opinions more than she let on.

“So how does Felicity fit in if Nathan is doing the digging?”

“He could be her minion. We know she thinks she’s a witch and would be after the ingredients.” I shrugged. “Maybe she put a spell on him or is paying him. I really don’t know much about witches and magic, to tell you the truth.”

“If this spell thing Pepper told you about is real, then we need to find not only the killer, but also this letter and make sure whoever would want to dig up the ingredients is not able to do that. That’s gonna make it harder, especially if Felicity is getting Nathan to do her dirty work. We might not find physical evidence to tie her to the crime.”

I checked my watch then stood. “I need to get back to the bookstore. But I will say that the best way to get my sister to go along with your ideas is to make her think it was her idea to begin with.” Striker laughed, and I smiled then added, “Believe me. I’ve had tons of experience.”

“I believe you, Chance.” His use of my nickname sent a fresh wave of happiness tingling through me. We walked slowly back across the park. “Since I’m working a shift with her tonight at the police station, I’ll try to figure out a way to do that.”

“And I’ll try to get Albert to tell me more about Desmond and the argument with Barney. Maybe it will at least let us rule them out. Then we can work on getting actual evidence against Felicity and Nathan.”

“Just promise you’ll be careful, Chance,” Striker said, facing me as we waited at the corner. “We need to be able to prove our suspect had means, motive, and opportunity beyond a whisper of a doubt before we present it to Gus. Otherwise, she won’t believe it, and we need to catch the person responsible soon, before things get uglier than they already are.”