“I bet it would be interesting to call their owners up and ask them where they were that Wednesday night. If all of them but Hud have an alibi, then we’ll know something of value. Say, Jill, can you really find out how many there are? Who their owners are? Where they bought their cars? Hud says he bought his at a car auction, but I wonder—could we find out where he bought it?”

“You’re serious!”

“You bet your sweet bippy I am.”

“The Minnesota Department of Public Safety keeps those kind of records. You can ask their computer to do sorts to get that kind of information. Like a friend of mine on the Minneapolis force was investigating a ring of snowmobile thieves. They were breaking them down for parts, but now and then they’d take the leftovers and make a new snowmobile and sell it. Jay asked them to sort out all the reconstructed snowmobiles registered in the past two years and broke the case that way.”

“Can you ask for a sort of Rolls-Royces, even though you’re not a detective?”

“Sure, but it will go through Mike and he’ll ask me why and I’ll tell him you want to know. Better you ask them yourself.”

“How? Pretend I’m a cop?”

The cold look Jill gave her made Betsy wonder how she had ever mistaken any of Jill’s earlier looks for chilly dislike. Jill obviously did not approve of impersonating an officer. But she replied courteously enough, “No, of course not. Automobile registrations are public information. Car salesmen line up to get lists of people who’ve bought more than one sports utility vehicle in the past four years, or are driving a Cadillac more than three years old. The state charges for the information, but you can get the name and address of every Rolls owner registered in the state.”

Betsy started back into the shop. “Where is this department? How long does it take to get the list?”

Jill followed, the oar in her hand. “It’s in downtown St. Paul. Are you really going to go and ask?”

“That’s not the broken oar,” Godwin observed.

“Duh-uh!” said Jill.

“What were you two talking about?” asked Shelly.

“Why do you ask?” asked Betsy. “Are you out of things to tell Hud?”

Shelly said in a hurt voice, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it was wrong of you to tell him everything I—or anyone else—told you.” Betsy flashed a look at Godwin, who had the grace to look abashed.

“Hud?” said Shelly. “But you’re in love with him!”

“I am not in love with Hudson Earlie. I was indulging in a flirtation with him. He’s very attractive, but he’s not one of the good guys—you should see what he has in his office. And I think maybe he murdered my sister.”