“The proof! Motive! Everything! Margot was murdered, I knew there was something funny about the whole burglary thing, and now I know who did it!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Penberthy was just here, and he told me about that legal business between Margot and Joe Mickels, over the lease. He wanted her out, she wouldn’t go, there’s a thick file of all the legal tricks he’s been playing trying to get her out. So at last he just killed her!” Betsy made a huge gesture of triumph at the ceiling. “And now there’s this incorporation thing! It’s clear as daylight!”

“What are you talking about? How could Mr. Penberthy give you proof that Joe Mickels is a murderer?”

“Mickels tried every way he could think of to get Margot to give up and move out, but she wouldn’t budge. And his threats turned ugly, so she decided to protect herself by incorporating—see, you can’t murder a corporation! But she was waiting to sign the final papers before she told him—and he murdered her before she got a chance! Or maybe he somehow found out what she intended to do and tried to kill her before the deal could go through. Penberthy says Joe didn’t know, don’t you see? I told you that burglar idea was all wrong! And now we know he did it! Who do I tell, how do I get him arrested?”

“Betsy, Betsy, calm down. Take a breath, for heaven’s sake. Tell me, exactly what did Mr. Penberthy say?”

“He doesn’t know Joe Mickels did it, of course. But he showed me this thick file of legal stuff, the record of the fight Mickels and Margot have been having over the shop. Mickels wanted Margot to move out so he could tear down this building and put up a bigger one.”

“Yes, I know. And?”

“Well, don’t you see? Murdering Margot didn’t do him any good. Margot finished incorporating, you see, and there was something wrong with the lease, some kind of assignment thing, which she did, so I get the shop. So it doesn’t mean a thing, not a thing, that he murdered her!”

Jill, trying to understand, said, “So because it doesn’t mean a thing, that’s proof he murdered her?”

Betsy nearly shouted yes, then swallowed the word whole. Because that wasn’t what she meant. What had she meant? Her “proof” that Mickels had murdered her sister was gone as suddenly as a hatful of smoke.

“Betsy?”

“Huh?”

“Are you all right?”

“I guess not.” Betsy dropped the receiver back into its cradle and went to sit on the couch in the living room. What was the matter with her?