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like it was second nature. I hadn’t even known my sister owned a dress, never mind one that she could wear with ease. The dress had suited her and she'd looked great. I wondered if she had occasion to wear it much. I doubted it. As far as I knew, Gus was all work and no play.  
    I glanced back down at myself. Maybe I should wear more dresses. Maybe I would look as good as Gus.  
    “I don’t know…” I couldn’t picture myself using my appearance or flirting like Paisley did to get information.
    “You have a cute figure and you should jazz yourself up. Plus, the sooner you find my killer, the sooner I can move on and you can be rid of me.” She leaned forward and a blast of chilly air sent goosebumps up my arm. “Until then, I’m going to haunt you mercilessly.”
    Great. That was just what I needed, an abrasive ghost that doled out fashion advice following me around all day. I chewed my bottom lip trying to think up any other questions that might help me get a lead to solve this as quickly as possible.  
    Right now, George was my main suspect. Paisley had said she’d been alive when he left, but that didn’t mean he didn’t return and do her in later. If only there was some more concrete proof. I remembered the camera I’d seen Gus’s deputy put in the evidence bag.  
    “There was a camera near your body,” I said. “Were you taking pictures in the shop? Maybe you got one of the killer.”
    “Pictures? I don’t remember taking any pictures? But then again, I don’t remember much about what happened after George left.”
    “Dying amnesia.” A voice boomed from behind me and I turned to see Robert Frost. “It’s quite common.”
    “Yes.” Franklin Pierce nodded in agreement. “It’s like when you get amnesia after a traumatic event.”  
    “Dying certainly is traumatic,” Robert said.
    “Especially if you are murdered,” Paisley added, eliciting laughter from Robert and Franklin.
    “So, she might not regain any memories about that night?” I asked.  
    “Right. Or she might remember some if it.” Robert spread his hands. “It really depends. Everyone is different.”
    Perfect. Paisley might not remember a thing about that night—she wouldn’t be any help at all.  
    Too bad bringing Paisley’s killer to justice wasn’t going to be as easy as her ghost just telling me who it was so I could get a jump on where to look for evidence. It looked like I had my work cut out for me. Lucky thing I had a good idea exactly where to start.

Chapter Six

    The ghosts retreated back to wherever it is ghosts go when they aren’t haunting the living. I went back behind the counter to continue cataloging the books, which I hadn’t finished yesterday. Pandora curled up in her cat bed like she didn't have a care in the world. How nice for her.
    I hadn’t gotten very far into my cataloging when the bell over the door chimed and my best friend and fellow Main Street shop owner, Pepper St. Onge, came into the shop. She carried a silver platter loaded with a teapot, dainty porcelain teacups and scones. One might think it odd that she walked around with a platter loaded this way but, considering she owned a tea shop a couple of doors down, it wasn’t that unusual. She often came in for tea and to catch up during the times when our shops were not busy with customers.
    “Want to take a break?” Pepper’s green eyes quizzed me, her head tilted slightly to the right as she balanced the tray in her left hand. The smell of cinnamon wafted over. My stomach rumbled loudly.
    “Of course.” I logged out of my cataloging program and came around the counter to join her on the purple sofa and chairs.
    Pepper’s red hair was twirled up in a knot high on her head. She leaned over to pour the tea and one long strand escaped, floating in front of her face and almost landing in the teacup.
    Four scones sat on a dainty flowered plate, their lightly browned surfaces sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Pepper caught me