“I don’t know. The blue Chinese horse? It’s the only thing missing.”

“But that was hanging on the wall in plain sight,” said Irene. “And how do you know there’s nothing else missing? Have you finished your inventory and compared it to the last inventory and all the orders received since and records of things sold?”

“That’s in process. So far nothing important has come up missing. But I don’t think the murderer was looking for a pair of bamboo knitting needles; I think it was something else.”

“What?” Malloy asked again.

“I don’t know. I may be wrong, but maybe he just wanted to make you think he was a burglar, and got carried away.”

“Maybe he was angry that he’d broken in and there wasn’t anything worth his while to steal.”

“You would think killing the owner would be revenge enough,” said Betsy, and to her chagrin she sobbed just once.

Malloy sat very still, watching, until he was sure she wasn’t going to break down. Then he said, “It’s a stinking shame what happened to your sister. This is a quiet town, with a low crime rate. We haven’t had a murder here in years. Everyone is angry and upset over it, and I want to assure you that I’m putting in a lot of overtime working the case. Your reporting the missing items really helped, because when someone rummaging in the trash for aluminum cans found this stuff, I got called and here we are. And I appreciate your thoughts as well. I don’t want you to think I’m dismissing them just because you aren’t a professional like I am.” He smiled, stood, and held out his hand.

Betsy, following suit, shook it. Malloy only nodded at Irene, who nodded back. He opened the door to his office.

“I hope you don’t mind if I keep working the burglar angle,” he said. “After all, the calculator wasn’t found in that trash barrel. Maybe he hasn’t dropped out of school yet and needs a calculator. But it’s that embroidered horse that will identify him as the thief when we catch him, and help us get a confession.”

Irene asked eagerly, “You have a suspect?”

“I think I can safely say that significant progress is being made,” he said, gesturing her out.

Betsy reluctantly followed. “Who’s your suspect?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I don’t want to say anything at this point that might jeopardize the case or put an innocent person in a false light,” he said, dodging around them and leading the way down the hall. “I will keep you informed, I promise. What I need from you now is a little more patience.”

And before Betsy knew it, she was alone with Irene in the little foyer.