“Yes, you know, oarlock.” Impatiently, Irene took up a phone message pad and drew what looked like a capital U with a stem growing out of the bottom of it. “You stick the bottom part into a metal holder on the boat so you can row.” She looked at Betsy without seeing her, thinking. “Or maybe it’s the holder that’s the oarlock. Whatever, that’s what he was carrying, the handle part of an oar with that metal part dangling. And the paddle part broken off.”

Godwin sniggered. “I bet that was a hell of a meeting with his board of directors. I bet they still have headaches.”

Betsy cast a quelling look at him and asked, “You’re sure this happened last Wednesday?”

“Yes, I’m sure. It had been raining off and on that evening and there was a light fog. Just the right kind of a night to see a ghost. But it wasn’t a ghost I saw; it was Mr. Mickels.”

“Maybe he didn’t duck out of your way,” said Betsy. “Maybe he just went to his car.” She turned to Godwin. “What kind of car does Joe Mickels drive?”

“Some big old yacht, like a 1973 Cadillac or something.”

“See?” said Betsy.

“Is it one of those old cars that has fabric on the roof?” asked Irene. “An imitation convertible. Because this car was like that. And it had a hood ornament, too.”

“N-no,” said Godwin. “It’s a real dark green, I think. And not two-tone, just one solid color.”

“This car wasn’t two-tone,” said Irene. “And it might have been green, though I thought it was black. Those streetlights make it hard to see colors.”

Godwin gave Betsy a triumphant look over Irene’s head.

“But it did have fabric on the roof,” she said. “I know it did. I was there, I saw it.”

“Wait a minute, I thought you were at home all that night,” said Betsy.

Irene’s triumphant glare at Godwin faded abruptly, and her breath snagged in her throat with a sound almost like a snore. “What?”

“I said, I thought you told me you were home, working on a needlework project.”

“I was, I was home all evening. But I got hungry, I hadn’t had any dinner. And I just love to walk when it’s all misty and foggy, so at about ten o‘clock I decided to walk to McDonald’s and have a hamburger, and I was almost there when I saw Mr. Mickels. And he ran away and hid when he saw me coming.”

Betsy looked at Godwin, she couldn’t help it. And his face showed he was thinking what Betsy was thinking: I, too, would have ducked into a parking lot rather than encounter Irene Potter. Her face must have shown her thoughts as well, because Godwin simply bloomed with amusement, and he turned quickly and walked away.

“That man is so rude!” said Irene.