High but directly above the case was an air vent; it blew a chill draft down on them. He saw Betsy shiver and stuff her hands into the pockets of her blue cardigan as she moved around the case. Suddenly she stooped as if to see it from a child’s angle. He could see only the top of her head, and was surprised at the amount of gray in her hair. Her face was young; she could get away with a dye job. Doubtless when she came into that money, her hairdresser would suggest it. What was it, three million? He would himself suggest some improvements to her wardrobe—that cardigan was positively shabby.

He waited, but she showed no signs of being finished. At last he cleared his throat, and when Betsy straightened he was looking pointedly at his watch.

“Sorry,” she said, and they retraced the labyrinth out of the storage room.

Back in his office, she asked, “May I ask why Margot came to see you the day she died?”

“She had some idea about a proposed fund-raising campaign. She felt it was too ambitious, that we wouldn’t meet our goal. She wanted me to support her at the next meeting when she voted against it.”

“Did you agree to?”

“No, I told her I thought the goal was achievable. We agreed to disagree and she went off to see the T‘ang horse.”

“But the door was locked. Or did she have her own key?”

“No, she borrowed mine. There was talk among the board members about getting their own keys, but the staff argued successfully that the hand of authority is not the same as the hand that knows how to handle fragile artifacts.”

“Yes, of course. So why, when she brought the key back, was she all upset?”

He looked at her slantwise. “Have you been talking to my secretary?”

“That’s what you get for making me wait while you chat on the phone,” she said archly. “But why was she angry?”

“She wasn’t all that angry. Every time she went into that storage room, she snagged a stocking or her good wool skirt. She wanted to know when we’d get the renovations finished; most of our artifacts have been in storage for over a year. I told her it might be another six months; we’re short of money to complete the renovations.” Hud grinned at her. “I think that might have changed her mind about voting against the fund-raiser.”

Betsy smiled back. “Do you remember about what time she left here that Wednesday?”

He had to think. “I’m not sure. Wait; I had an appointment at two and I made it, so it must have been fifteen or twenty minutes before that.”

“Did she tell you her plans for the rest of the day?”

“No. Why?”