“We understand,” said Jill.

Marvin, shaking his head, said, “It’s a shame this had to be the last picture taken of Bill. Not exactly his best side.”

“Oh, stop it, Marvin!” said Charlotte, trying not to laugh, and dabbing at more tears.

Marvin said to Betsy, “Charlotte told me you investigate crimes, is that true?”

Betsy nodded. “Yes, as an amateur. I seem to have a knack for it.”

“I also hear you’re looking into Bill’s death. What have you found out?”

“A number of things. Broward, for example, was unhappy with his father’s continuing interference in Birmingham Metal Fabrication, as you undoubtedly know.”

Charlotte felt a cold hand grip her heart. “You can’t possibly think my son would murder his own father!” she said in a quiet voice she hardly recognized as her own.

Betsy’s look did nothing to warm the grip. “I’m sorry, but I do,” she said. “Unless you can think of a better candidate?”

Charlotte exchanged a look with Marvin. “Well, as a matter of fact, I can. We can, Marvin and I.”

16

Detective Sergeant Morrie Steffans, one of those people who pays attention, didn’t have to ask who the waitress was for his table. He quickly picked her out from the quartet serving the room, and went to waylay her on her way from another table to tell her there were two new people at Betsy Devonshire’s.

But he didn’t go immediately back to his table. He stood a minute or two, watching Charlotte Birmingham and Marvin Pierce talking to Betsy, Jill, and Lars.

Lars, he knew, was an excellent patrol cop, very happy at his work, and therefore likely to stay on patrol until his back or his legs gave out. Which might be never-he looked built on the lines of the Stanley boiler he admired so much.

Jill, on the other hand, was on a different track. She had the quiet tenacity and wholesome integrity that would probably put her in a command position someday. She might even wind up Chief of Police.

And then there was Ms. Devonshire. Wholly amateur, not at all disciplined or even learned in the field of investigation. Yet she’d broken several cases, most of them locally. She claimed, according to Sergeant Mike Malloy of the Excelsior Police Department, to be merely lucky, a sentiment he heartily endorsed. But luck was a genuine gift, a wonderful thing to be blessed with. Really legendary investigators had it, held on to it with both hands, and were deeply grateful for it. Malloy disliked Betsy, said she was an interfering civilian of the worst sort, by which he meant she was better than he was at solving crimes-at least the sort of crimes ordinary people got mixed up in, not the sort done by professional criminals. The ordinary crook could probably run rings around Ms. Devonshire, just as the pair at the table right now could run rings around Mike Malloy.

Steffans’s eyes narrowed as he watched them work Betsy over. He didn’t think for a minute they were fooling her. He began to walk slowly back to the table, his stuck-out ears already picking up the threads of the conversation.

Charlotte was here to protect her son Broward. To do that, she would see anyone else, anyone, indicted, convicted, and sentenced to life in prison. The best candidate she could find was Adam Smith, so here she was-and she didn’t care if her story about just driving around aimlessly and just happening to stop at the Blue Heron was a little thin. It hadn’t been hard to find Betsy Devonshire. A few phone calls and here she was. Sergeant Steffans thought he was clever finding Betsy, but here was Charlotte, just as clever.

But Betsy’s face showed only keen interest. “What have you found out about Adam Smith?” she asked.

Clever Charlotte let Marvin help dig the hole into which she hoped to push Adam.

Marvin said, “It’s about the rivalry between Adam and Bill. I’m sure you know Bill bought a 1910 Fuller that Adam wanted, and wouldn’t sell it to him. But that was only one round of an ongoing fight. Adam had previously bought a 1910 Maxwell that Bill wanted, even though Adam collects only rarities and Maxwells are about the most common pioneers around.”

Jill said, “I thought you weren’t an antique car owner, Marvin.”

He said, surprised, “I’m not.”

“But you know a lot about them.”

He shrugged. “Heck, I’ve been friends with the Birminghams for a lot of years. You can’t help picking up the language.”

The police investigator’s chair suddenly moved, and Sergeant Steffans sat down. “The waitress will be here in a minute,” he said.

Charlotte said, “We were talking about how Adam Smith did things that showed he hated Bill. I think the worst was when Adam decided to run against Bill for president of the Minnesota Antique Car Club. Adam is route manager, that’s what he does best, and he’s always liked laying out the runs. Then Wesley Sweet decided to retire to Arizona. He was president for the past four terms. Bill was vice president for two, and he was very efficient, he did a lot of good work, so naturally he decided he had the best chance to be president. And like from out of left field”-Charlotte made a sharp gesture-“here comes Adam, hot to be president himself. And he runs the dirtiest, the hardest, the nastiest-”

“Now, Char, you’re getting excited,” interrupted Marvin quietly.

Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat, but she stopped herself from saying something rude to Marvin. Because he was probably right, she had gotten carried away before. “Do you think so?” she said instead, making her voice sweetly humble. Marvin’s smile of admiration made the sweetness genuine. “Well, maybe I am a little excited. But”-she turned her focus onto Betsy-“it was a very ugly campaign. Adam told lies about Bill, said he was incompetent, uncooperative, high-handed. It was just terrible, the things he said. I told Bill not to reply in kind, and I think that was a mistake, because Adam won by a very clear margin.”

“But then why, if Adam won, would he murder Bill?”

“Oh, I’m not saying Adam murdered Bill because of the election. That would be ridiculous. I’m just telling you about it to show how deep the animosity went, that Adam really hated Bill.”

“Because of the car thing,” guessed Lars.

“No, the car thing was just another symptom. You know Adam was forced out of his position as CEO of General Steel?”

Betsy said, “I know he was given a golden parachute when he was asked to retire. I didn’t know it was from General Steel.”

“Well, Adam’s method of improving a bottom line was to diversify. He was among the first practitioners of that. He wanted General Steel to get into manufacturing steel products as well as mining and smelting. He’d been expanding into a rolling mill already.”

Steffans nodded. “I remember reading about that. The mill’s in Gary, Indiana, I believe.” He said to Betsy, who was giving him a surprised look, “One of my mutual funds is into metals.”

Charlotte said, “Yes, well, a lot of the processing of taconite is done overseas nowadays, because it’s cheaper. But instead of expanding into overseas processing, Adam decided to broaden his base, and he started looking at Birmingham Metal Fabrication.” Charlotte smacked a hand onto the table to underline the enlightenment she saw in Betsy’s eyes. “That’s right, that’s why Bill brought Broward into the company, to fight off Adam’s attempt to buy us out. I was never so proud of both of them, the way they worked together to keep the company ours.”

Lars said, frowning, “You mean General Steel wanted to do a hostile takeover?”

“No,” said Charlotte, “you can only do a hostile takeover by buying up the stock of a publicly held company. We are family-owned. But Adam saw a clean, profitable, well-run company, and he started making offers.”

“All you had to do was just say no, surely,” said Betsy.