She walked over to Margot’s chair and sat down. “What’s more, I am so greatly offended by the two of you squabbling over the shop like vultures that I think I’ll do whatever I can to keep either of you from profiting from Margot’s death. In fact—”

Again Betsy was interrupted by the doorbell. She rose to answer it.

“Can’t you just ignore it?” implored Irene. “I have a great deal to say to you. I’m sure if you’ll just listen a minute—”

“It’s like goddamn Grand Central Station around here,” Mickels growled.

“It may be someone bringing Sophie home,” said Betsy, and she pushed the release button.

“Who’s Sophie?” she heard Mickels ask.

Irene explained, “It’s that nasty cat Margot allowed in her store. I won’t have animals in my store.”

Betsy opened the door and saw Shelly coming up the stairs. She was carrying something about the size of a large cat wrapped in newspapers.

“What do you have there?” Betsy asked apprehensively.

“A hot dish. I wanted to bring you one last Thursday, but someone said you weren’t receiving visitors, so I brought you one tonight. It’s diced chicken with onion and celery, mixed with cream of mushroom soup and green beans, and crispy onions on top. I hope you like it. I’ll just put it in the kitchen. It’s still hot, that’s why I wrapped it in newspapers, to keep it hot.” Her voice had become less and less certain of her welcome as she approached. “Have I come at a bad time?”

“Uh, well, I do have some people here.”

“Then I’ll just leave this on the counter.”

“Shelly? Is that you?” Irene called.

“Hi, Irene. I brought a hot dish.”

“I’ve already eaten. But come in for a minute, will you?”

Betsy wondered where on earth Irene got the notion the hot dish was for her. She must think Betsy was going to invite her to dinner. As if!

Shelly obeyed. “What’s up?”

“I want you to tell Betsy what a good business head I have, and how good my needlework is.”

“Her needlework wins blue ribbons all the time,” Shelly said obediently, raising her eyebrows at Betsy.

“She wants to buy Crewel World,” said Betsy.

“She’ll have to find a new place for it,” warned Mickels.

“Yes, I was afraid of that,” said Shelly to Mickels, coming out of the kitchen. “Are you going to be okay, Betsy?”

“I think so, thanks.”

“But I can make the store the talk of the county,” Irene insisted, now arguing with all of them. “I’ve wanted to open my own store for years and years. You know that, Shelly, but Margot got hers started first, so there wasn’t anything I could do till she got out of the way.”

“That’s a strange way of putting it, Irene,” Shelly commented. “She didn’t exactly decide on her own to step out of anyone’s way. She was murdered.” Her face was suddenly sad.

Irene shrugged. “Well, it’s how I think of it. She wouldn’t let me become her partner, so what could I do?”