“Here, let me see it.” Betsy took it off the hanger and tried it on. It fit a little snugly, and when she looked at herself in the mirror, she made a face and shrugged it right off again. “Makes me look fat.”

Shelly looked as if she wanted to disagree, but honesty won out. “That is a drawback,” she said. “And it’s not as warm as a down coat would be.”

“I suppose I could just hang it on the wall, like a work of art.” She backed off and cocked her head, studying it. “Yes, that would be really effective on the right wall.”

“Are you going to bid for it, then?”

“I don’t know. How much do you think it might go for?”

“Three or four hundred, maybe more.”

Betsy sighed. “Well, I guess not.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Shelly, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what?”

“Who would you consider to have been Margot’s enemies?”

“Now, that’s an ugly question. But I guess the right answer would be, nobody.”

“Come on, Joe Mickels has to go on the list.”

“Okay, Joe Mickels.”

“And Irene Potter?”

“Oh, Irene’s just a little crazy, not dangerous.”

“She came over here after the funeral wanting to buy Crewel World.”

“Of course she did, she’s wanted to open her own needlework store for years.”

“So she wanted Margot out of the way, didn’t she? How badly?”

Shelly was smoothing the slash jacket on the hanger. “Oh ... pretty bad, I suppose. But she’s the kind of crazy that would make a little doll and stick pins in it. I can’t imagine her coming after Margot with a real weapon.”

“All right, then, who would?”

Shelly hung the jacket on the closet doorknob. “I told you, nobody. Margot was a good person. She organized charity events, and got people excited to start working on them.”

“There’s a silly old joke: she lives for others; you can tell the others by their haunted look. Was Margot one of those, always poking into other people’s business? Trying to reform people who maybe didn’t want to be reformed?”