“That’s right. Margot told me. Something about a law that every town had to reconfigure itself as a city or go out of existence. So why didn’t Excelsior make its boundaries city size?”

Mickels shrugged his heavy shoulders. “The town council had a big fight over where to set the borders, either city size, way beyond where the town already was, or just where it was then. They figured that if they expanded the borders, they’d get stuck with high taxes bringing water and sewage to everyone, so they chose to limit the borders. They’re still arguing over whether or not it was a good idea.”

“What do you think?”

He shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter to me. It saved downtown, I guess, but the tax base is too small. There are other towns that had the same choice, and most of them stayed small, too. Then once their borders were settled, Shorewood took the rest. So anytime you’re not sure what city you’re in out here, you’re in Shorewood.”

Betsy smiled. “Are you from Excelsior?”

He nodded.

“Do they have a good police department?”

He frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to be sure they can find out who murdered my sister, Mr. Mickels.”

“I thought you said the police have it solved.”

“I said, the detective thinks it was a burglar. But if he has a suspect, why isn’t he under arrest? And what if it wasn’t a burglar at all?”

His bushy eyebrows met over his nose. “Not a burglar? Then who?”

“Someone who had a reason for wanting the owner of this shop out of the way. Someone, perhaps, like you, Mr. Mickels.”

He stared at her for a long moment, then put his cup on the desk, turned, and started for the door.

“Where were you the night she was murdered, Mr. Mickels?” she called after him.

He stopped at the door and there was another long moment of weighty silence. “I was at a business meeting in St. Cloud,” he said at last. “Not that it is any business of yours.”

“Of course it’s my business! She was my sister.” Betsy felt her eyes start to sting, and turned away. “Just go,” she said, but the door had already closed.

That night up in the apartment, she remained furious at herself for openly accusing Mickels before finding out if he had an alibi. Of course he’d claim to have one, asked the way he had been! And she wasn’t sure how to go about proving it false.

She opened a can of soup for supper, watched the early news, then convinced herself she was tired and went to bed.

But she couldn’t fall asleep. She got up and dragged on her robe and wandered the apartment for a while, wondering if she might be hungry. But a look in the refrigerator convinced her she wasn’t.