“No. Are you going to tell me you don’t think the woman was Mrs. Birmingham?”

“No, of course not. I’m at that stage of my investigation where I check everything. However, I am satisfied that it was Mr. and Mrs. Birmingham in the car. And I’m asking if it was during the halt in Excelsior that you and Mrs. Birmingham struck up an acquaintance.”

Betsy nodded. “Yes, she came into my shop and spent a nice amount of money, and helped me log the drivers out of town when they left. Adam Smith asked her to assist me. She didn’t want to ride in the Maxwell anymore, because the engine running so rough made it jiggle, which upset her stomach.”

Steffans nodded. “Leaf springs.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Leaf springs, from before shock absorbers. Smooth out the bumps, but can’t dampen the jiggle.”

Betsy nodded. “All right. Anyway, Charlotte rode with me to St. Paul, and helped me again when we logged in the drivers on the return leg. Bill Birmingham’s Maxwell didn’t come in, and we didn’t hear from him, so after a while Adam left to drive the route looking for him. Charlotte sat with me in the booth in St. Paul until Adam called Ceil-that’s Lucille Ziegfield, a member of the club-and Ceil told Charlotte that Bill was dead. Charlotte was very upset, of course. I took her to my car-”

“Why?” interrupted Steffans.

“Because she was crying and people were staring. And we both were hot. She was wearing an old-fashioned dress and a big antique hat, so she was more uncomfortable than I was. So I took her to my car, started it, and turned on the air-conditioning, and we sat and talked until Adam Smith arrived to tell us that Bill’s body was taken for an autopsy because the police weren’t satisfied it was an accident. She left about half an hour later. Her son Broward came and picked her up.”

“And you stayed with her that whole time?”

“Yes, she was in no state to be left alone. Broward came with his wife, who seems like a very nice woman. She kind of gathered poor Charlotte in and Broward drove them away.”

“What was your impression of Charlotte Birmingham?”

“I liked her. She seemed to be a nice person. Interesting company. Good needleworker. She’s really into this period thing; she not only wore the correct clothes for her ride, even the needlework pattern she was working was period.”

“Did she seem to be upset or distressed in any way before you learned of Mr. Birmingham’s death?”

“No. Well, she got worried when his car didn’t come in. And annoyed that he didn’t call on his cell phone to say where he was and what the problem was.”

“You saw the two of them together, however briefly. What was her attitude toward her husband?”

“Affectionate. Indulgent.”

“ ‘Indulgent.’ That’s an interesting choice of word.” Steffans’s blue eyes searched her face, but not unkindly.

“Is it? Well, maybe it is. I was just thinking of how she said something to him that showed she understood he was feeling grumpy and was willing to do her bit to make him feel better.”

“What was that?”

“When they first arrived in Excelsior, they stopped beside me. He was holding the steering wheel like grim death, jaw sort of set, because the car was misbehaving. And she said she was going to get out of the car and take off a layer of clothing-she was wearing an old-fashioned long white dress with a long coat over it-”

“A duster, I think they’re called.”

“Yes, that’s right, a duster. Well, she looked very hot in it, so it wasn’t surprising that she wanted to shed a few layers. He didn’t say a word, but then she didn’t get out, she said she’d ride with him up to the booth where Adam would tell them where to park. You know how people who have been married awhile can tell what the other one wants without him having to say a word? It was like that. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, so she agreed she’d stay with him and talk to Adam and anyone else. Even though he didn’t ask her to. She wasn’t grumpy herself about it, but kind of cheerful. So I guess that’s where ‘indulgent’ comes from.”

Steffans smiled at her. “Very perceptive. You paint a very clear picture of what happened. Thank you.” He consulted his notebook and asked, “You’re sure that Charlotte was with you the entire time between her and her husband’s arrival in Excelsior and the time you got word that he was dead?”

Betsy thought. “Well, there was that time between her and Bill’s arrival and the time I clocked in the last car, turned in my clipboard, and went into my shop, where we introduced ourselves again. I didn’t recognize her out of that hat and duster. But we saw Bill again after that. She went to tell him she wasn’t riding back with him, and I went with her. He was working on the car, and was still unhappy. She took her duster, hat, and carpet bag out of the back seat of the car and we went to the booth. From then on she was with me.”

“You saw Bill Birmingham leave Excelsior?”

“Yes, Charlotte was helping me log departure times. He was the last one to leave, because he had a lot of trouble getting the car started. He’d go to the driver’s side and make some kind of adjustment then come back to the front end and yank the crank around, then make another adjustment, and crank again.”

“Retarding the spark, I think it’s called.”

“Yes, that’s right, advancing and retarding the spark. Not that it helped much. I’m surprised he didn’t fall down from heat exhaustion, bundled up as he was.”

“He wore a duster, too?”

“Oh, yes, and a hat-what’s it called, pinch-brim? The soft kind where the crown is high in back and comes down over the bill in front. And goggles, great big old-fashioned goggles. About all you could see of his head was his mouth and chin and a bit of dark hair around the edges. He looked very authentic, and very warm. He’d open the hood and do something under there, then start in again, advancing the spark and cranking. Someone passing him on his way out of town yelled, ‘You need to get a bigger hammer, Bill!’ and laughed. Charlotte said that’s the usual joke, get a bigger hammer.”

“I thought it was ‘Get a horse!’ ”

“No, that was what people who didn’t drive back in the old days would say. Or so Charlotte told me. She knew a lot about the old cars and that time period. Her dress and hat weren’t reproductions, but the real thing. She said she collected antique clothes.”

“But she didn’t try to help Mr. Birmingham fix the car.”

“No, she said she deliberately didn’t learn much about the engines and-and transmission bands, that’s one term she used. She didn’t want to ruin her hands working on the cars.”

“All right, thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

After Steffans had left, Godwin said, “You didn’t tell me you were mixed up in another murder.”

“I didn’t know until just now that I was. And anyway, you might be right about the suicide.”

Godwin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You think so?”

Betsy nodded. “I was thinking about the insurance. You know, the suicide clause, the company won’t pay off if you kill yourself?”

“Oh, of course,” said Godwin. “So you’re thinking he might have committed suicide and tried to make it look like an accident. Or how about he just shoots himself, and someone found his body and put it under the car and set the fire so it would look like an accident, so his widow could get the insurance.”

Betsy said, “The problem with that is, who would do such a thing? And he was seen in St. Paul that morning, he was seen in Excelsior, and he was the last driver to leave on the return run. So it must have happened while he was on that return run. Except everyone involved in the run was either driving in it ahead of him or took the freeway to St. Paul after he left. So it would have to be a stranger who came along and found him-and why would a stranger do that?”

“Yeah, that would be the question, all right.”