Jill stood, flushed a faint pink. “My coffee break,” she said.

“Hit the road,” said Malloy.

“Yes, sir.” Jill glanced at Betsy, but Betsy was keeping her wary attention on Malloy. Jill brushed by the detective and he closed the door after her.

“I need to talk to you, Ms. Devonshire,” said Malloy in that same hard tone. “Alone,” he added with dramatic emphasis, just like on television. He even shrugged a little bit inside his coat as if to adjust, or loosen, the gun in an armpit holster.

That worked a lot better than Betsy’s hints; Shelly and Godwin immediately put down their work and went to make busy noises in the back of the shop.

Malloy yanked out a chair—the one Sophie was in. She half fell, half jumped out of it and went square-wheeling off to join Shelly and Godwin, giving Malloy a look over her shoulder that made it clear she wasn’t afraid of him.

Malloy sat down, leaned toward Betsy, and said in a deadly monotone, “What the hell do you think you are doing, accusing Joe Mickels of murder?”

“What makes you think I accused him of anything?” Betsy managed to keep her voice cool and calm, but she knitted when she should have purled.

“He came in and told me. I asked him if he wanted to file a formal complaint, and he said no, not if you stopped spreading it around that he’s a murderer.”

“I haven’t been spreading it around. As a matter of fact, I didn’t accuse him of anything. All I did was ask him where he was the night my sister died.” She looked Malloy right in the eye. “And he lied to me, he said he was at a business meeting in—”

She tried to think. Some town with a funny name, like a fake saint.

“St. Cloud,” came a voice from the back of the shop.

Damn and bless Godwin’s sharp ears!

“St. Cloud,” she confirmed. “But Irene Potter told me just a little while ago that she saw him in town about ten o‘clock that night, and that he hurried into a parking lot when he saw her coming. She said he was carrying a broken oar with an oarlock attached to it.”

“I thought you just told me you haven’t been accusing Mickels of murder.”

“I haven’t. Irene was the one with the information. And she came in all on her own and volunteered it. If you want to accuse someone of spreading rumors about Joe Mickels, I suggest you talk to her. But I suggest you also talk again to Mr. Mickels.” Again Betsy dared look the cop in the eye. “I haven’t accused anyone of murdering my sister, Detective Malloy. But just because Joe Mickels is a rich man doesn’t mean he’s also an innocent one.”