“Oh, how sad,” said Roz. “I’m sure she made some serious compromises to buy them, so that must have hurt. It would be like you or me losing half our inventory.”

  “Ouch, there’s a horrible thought!” said Betsy with a wince. “But I think you’re right. She used to visit her niece in Excelsior a couple of times a year, and on the winter visit, Emily would buy her a new coat or a pair of boots. Maybe she came to Excelsior this year hoping Emily would also buy her a new pair of magnifiers.”

  Roz fell silent. “I don’t know why that makes me even angrier on her behalf, but it does. You said Sergeant—what’s his name? Malloy?—thinks it’s murder. Do you?”

  “Well, it’s a huge coincidence that two homeless women died a few blocks from each other in the same small town. Neither of them lived there, but they both came to see relatives who did.”

  “Did they die on the same day?”

  “They were found a few days apart, but it’s possible they died at the same time, or close to it. Janet’s body was on somebody’s front lawn, but the home owners were out of town and the body was covered up by snow.”

  “So it happened after the home owners went out of town, right?”

  “It must have.”

  “Did they leave before the other woman’s body was found, or after?”

  Betsy looked sideways at Roz. “You ask very good questions. Maybe you should try out for detective work, too.”

  “Yes, in my copious free time.”

  Betsy laughed. “I’m lucky to have a store manager who is willing to cover for me.”

  Roz repeated her question. “So, did they go out of town after the first woman’s body was found?”

  “No, they’d been gone almost a week when Carrie’s body was discovered. So it’s possible that even though Janet’s body was found later, she might actually have died before Carrie. Knowing which of the two women died first would really be helpful.”

  “Why is there a question about whether or not it’s murder?”

  “Because they weren’t shot or stabbed, and there was no trace of poison in their systems.”

  “So what do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know. I think they traveled together out to Excelsior—a Minneapolis city bus only comes that far out of town a few times a day, so that’s not unlikely—and that one of them was targeted and the other killed because she knew something or saw someone she could name.”

  “But how? If not shot, stabbed, or poisoned, how?”

  “That’s one of the really big questions I’m trying to answer.”

  “Well,” Roz said after a moment, “good luck with it.” She started to turn away, then saw something on the checkout counter and picked it up. “Here’s the bookmark we made in class.”

  Betsy stared at it, then reached slowly for it. It was the same pattern as the Hardanger bookmark Mike Malloy had found among Carrie’s possessions.

  AROUND five thirty, Betsy went to the restaurant on the second floor of the Radisson and had supper—just a salad; she wasn’t very hungry. Then she went down to get her suitcase out of their storeroom. She had checked out that morning, but the hotel agreed to store it for her while she went about her business in town.

  By ten after six she climbed into her rental and drove through a light snow to the train depot.

  There were no cars in the lot, and the building was dark. Betsy parked and went to the door. It was locked. And Annie was nowhere to be seen.

  Her concern increasing by the second, she hurriedly walked around the building, seeking but not finding a light on inside, or an unlocked door.

  Of course, she thought; there are only two trains a day through here, both late at night, so why should they keep the station open all day?

  But where was Annie?

  “Maybe she’s not here yet,” Betsy muttered to herself. She waited in her car until nearly seven.

  But no one drove up to let Annie off.

  And Betsy had no idea where she might be.

  Seventeen

  BETSY put her car in gear. But where was she to go to look for her friend? She had given Annie four five-dollar bills this morning. Twenty dollars wouldn’t take her far—if she hadn’t already spent it.

  If Annie had been here and found the depot locked, why didn’t she call Betsy?

  Ah. Because she didn’t have a cell phone. And because she was on foot at night in the cold and snowy weather, and in an unfamiliar neighborhood, she didn’t know where to go to find a pay phone.

  Wait a minute.

  Betsy drove out of the lot and two blocks up the street to the Radisson. She parked and ran into the hotel. There were eight or ten people in the beautiful marble lobby, but none was Annie.

  She hurried over to the check-in counter, where she had to wait while a couple ahead of her finished. At the counter, she didn’t recognize the clerk.

  “I stayed here the last two nights,” she said rapidly. “The night before last, I had someone with me, a woman about my age, with graying dark hair and brown eyes, poorly dressed. I think she may have come back here within the last half hour, but I can’t find her. Have you seen her?”

  The clerk stared at Betsy as if she were speaking in a language he couldn’t identify.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Betsy took a breath, and spoke more slowly. “I am wondering if a woman who I was supposed to meet at the train station came here instead. She was a guest here the night before last. Her name is Annie Summerhill. She has dark, graying hair, and is probably wearing a dark brown coat, a green knit hat, and black mittens.”

  “Has she got a reservation for here tonight?”

  “No, she has a train ticket—but the train doesn’t leave until two in the morning, and meanwhile the train depot is closed. Someone was supposed to drop her off there around six, so she’s on foot, and this hotel is close to the depot, so she may have come here.”

  “Oh, I see. What does she look like again?”

  Betsy gritted her teeth. “She’s about my age and size,” she said slowly, “but she wears mismatched clothes, brown coat, green knit hat, black mittens—she looks like she’s homeless. I’m hoping none of your staff made her leave.”

  The clerk looked shocked. “I’m sure that wouldn’t happen, unless she was bothering people.”

  Betsy bit down hard on her first retort, and said firmly but politely, “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen a person such as you describe. Still, as you can see, I’ve been busy.”

  Betsy turned a little bit to see that two guests had lined up behind her to check in. “Yes, I do see that. Thank you anyway.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Both frantic and despairing, Betsy forced herself to walk slowly around the big lobby, looking at every face present, making sure she hadn’t missed Annie playing her invisibility game. She would have looked in the restroom, but there wasn’t a restroom on the ground floor.

  And Annie wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  She checked her watch: quarter past seven.

  She went back to her car. The snow was thickening, coming down in huge, feathery flakes. She thought a little while, then said a prayer that was part penitential—for being careless about the arrangements for meeting Annie—and part petitionary—asking God’s angels to watch over Annie and guide Betsy to her. Then she started the engine, put her car in gear, and pulled away to begin a widening circle of the neighborhood.

  Half an hour later, she pulled over to sit behind the wheel, with the engine still running. The wind had come up, and the snowflakes were smaller now, but falling faster and harder. The only other open store in the area was a drugstore, and Annie wasn’t in there, either. It was now nearly eight o’clock. Where could she be?

  In Betsy’s imagination, Annie was wandering the bitter cold streets, unable to find anywhere to get warm. What if she, in desperation, had tucked herself into a doorway imperceptible from the street?

  This was all Betsy’s fault. She should have planned this more carefully, she should have arranged to pick Annie up at the shelter.

  What if Annie had said something at the Y shelter that brought a murderer after her? There was a sickening thought! Betsy shouldn’t have gotten Annie into this in the first place, no matter how fervently she had volunteered.

  Betsy thumped her hand on the steering wheel, her mouth set in a thin line. Should she check back at the YWCA? The shelter was miles from here, she would need the GPS to find it—so how could Annie have found her way back there on foot? She had no idea what to do now.

  IT occurred to Annie that hiding in the restroom meant she wouldn’t see Betsy, and Betsy wouldn’t be able to find her if she came looking for her here at the Radisson. Which of course she would, once she saw the train depot was closed.

  So she came out and looked around for stairs or the elevator—the restroom was on the second floor, around enough corners that she had to think for a few moments which way was out.

  She went back downstairs and over to one of the tall windows to peer out into the darkness for the beautiful car Betsy had rented. The snow was coming down so thickly it was hard to see all the way to the curb. And the wind was making it swirl and dance. When had that happened? Some while ago, seeing how deep it was on the sidewalk. What time was it anyway?

  Because she was a little nearsighted, she had to go halfway across the lobby, and toward the front desk, to see the clock on the back wall. It was ten after seven. Whoa, that was later than she thought! She went back to the window. What if—

  “Miss? Miss?” Annie looked around. The man behind the check-in counter was gesturing at her. Annie looked around, in case he meant someone else. But no, it was she he was summoning.

  Oh, damn, thought Annie. I’m about to get kicked out.

  Rather than hear a lecture, she began to walk to the door.

  “No, no, don’t leave! Come over here!”

  What, were they going to have her arrested? Annie looked, but there wasn’t a cop in sight.

  “Please, miss, it’s all right. Could you come here for a minute?”

  Very warily, Annie walked over to the check-in counter.

  But the man was smiling. “Are you Annie?” he asked.

  “Maybe. Who wants to know?”

  “There was a woman here a little while ago looking for a woman named Annie, and I think that might be you.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I didn’t get her name, but she was about your height, blond hair, wearing a long, dark blue coat and dark blue hat.”

  Betsy.

  Annie’s heart sank. “You mean she’s already come and gone?”

  “I’m afraid so. She walked all around the lobby but couldn’t find you.”

  “That’s ’cause I was upstairs in the ladies’ room. Well, this is a fine how-dee-do.”

  “I don’t suppose you have her cell phone number?”

  Annie grinned at him. She’d forgotten all about the phone number. “You suppose wrong!” It took a search through several pockets to find Betsy’s business card. “Here it is.”

  She handed the card to the man, who went to the phone on his side of the counter and punched in some numbers. Reading the name off the card, he said into the phone, “Ms. Devonshire? This is Wayne Murchison at the Radisson Hotel. The party you were looking for is here.” He paused while Betsy said something. “Yes, I’ll have her wait right here. You’re welcome.”

  He hung up the phone and said, “She sounded happy to hear that. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  BETSY was so relieved that she had to just sit still while her heart slowed and she got her breathing under control. After a few minutes, the tears quit rolling down her cheeks.

  Safe! Annie was safe; there wasn’t going to be yet another frozen corpse.

  She drove as fast as she dared to the Radisson. But the streets were snow-covered and slippery; this snowstorm was becoming serious.

  ANNIE saw a car drive up, a dark shape behind the veils of falling snow. It was Betsy’s car, all right; she watched as a Betsy-shaped figure climbed out and came tottering, arms out for balance, across the icy sidewalk toward the entrance to the hotel.

  Annie turned to greet her, but Betsy surprised her by running up and throwing her arms around her. “Oh, I am so glad to find you! I was worried sick about you!”

  “It’s okay, I’m okay,” said Annie, breaking free of the embrace, embarrassed at this public show of emotion. “It’s my fault, I was hangin’ out in the ladies’ room the first time you came through here.”

  “You were?” said Betsy, drawing out the word, suddenly narrow-eyed and sharp-tongued. “Why did you do that?”

  “Old habit,” said Annie, a little ashamed. “Plus, you said you wouldn’t get to the depot till half past six, an’ I got there early, an’ it was closed up tight, an’ what was I gonna do if you got there later than you said you would? So I walked down here. Everyone else in here was dressed so nice, I got nervous. But I asked the woman mopping the floor where was the ladies’ room and she told me upstairs. So I went. It’s a nice ladies’ room, I got kind of comfortable in there. I guess I lost track of time, huh. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, of course it’s not your fault! I arrived at the train station early, not late. When I saw it was closed, I wondered if you might have walked down here. I got here probably just a few minutes after you did. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s the desk clerk’s, because he didn’t remember seeing you.”

  “It’s the desk clerk’s fault?” queried Annie doubtfully.

  “Okay, it’s everyone’s fault!”

  “Oh, I getcha, if it’s everybody’s fault, it’s nobody’s fault.” Annie did get it; Betsy had been scared half to death, and was having a relief conniption. She said, “Anyway, here I am, safe and sound, and here you are, you found me. I’m sorry you were scared. But somebody told me once, a good scare every now and then is healthy.”

  “Whoever said that is crazy!”

  Annie smiled and said, “Come to think of it . . .”

  Betsy laughed a little too loudly. Then she sobered.

  “I want to talk to you about what you learned today, if anything.”

  “Well, I did hear a few things.”

  “But first, we have a problem. Where are we going to stay until the train depot opens?”

  Eighteen

  THE problem solved itself when Betsy gassed up and headed for the car rental headquarters out at the airport. By the time they got there, it was snowing even harder and the wind was blowing a gale.

  “The airport! Of course!” said Betsy as they drove slowly up the slick road toward the terminal. “It’s open all night, and there are cabs waiting right outside the door. We’ll just sit out here.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Annie. After a moment she said softly, “Someday maybe I’ll get to ride in an airplane.”

  Betsy, still feeling pleased that Annie was safe, said impulsively, “You know, that’s an idea. How about we see if there are seats on a flight to Minneapolis? I mean, if we can fly home now, we don’t have to sit up until two in the morning waiting for the train.”

  “Wow,” said Annie in an awed voice. “Wow, are you serious?”

  “Certainly. Come on, let’s turn this car in, and see about a pair of tickets.”

  “Wow.”

  But as they entered the new-looking terminal with its slanted, glass-fronted façade, a woman’s hollow voice was echoing through the area. “. . . the ticket agent at your airline counter for reticketing information. Again, because of blizzard conditions, all flights are canceled until further notice. See the ticket agent at your airline counter for reticketing information.”

  The very large space was full of people burdened with luggage and heavy winter coats. A chorus of groans rose from them, and there was a collective movement as they all lumbered toward the ticket counters.

  “What does that mean?” asked Annie anxiously. “Are they going to close? Do we have to leave?”

  “No, they’ll stay open until the weather clears. But it does mean we won’t be flying anywhere for hours and hours, probably till morning. Let’s look for a place to sit down, because soon there will be a rush for seating.”

  The ticketing area didn’t have many places to sit. Betsy started up the shining floor, as Annie trailed behind, looking up and all around. “Hey!” she said. “Lookit that!”

  “That” was a full-size biplane suspended from the ceiling.

  “I wonder what it would be like to ride in one of those rickety old things,” said Betsy. “It might be nice, flying low and slow, the wind in your hair . . .”

  “You go ahead and find out, why doncha,” said Annie. “An’ tell me about it when you get back. Me, when I fly, I want it to be in a big plane made of... of steel, with a roof and four jet engines and two pilots, and stewardesses, and, and seat belts.”

  “I think a plane made of aluminum would be better,” noted Betsy.

  “Whatever. Speaking of seats, look, over there, a place to sit down!”

  It was a bench with a thick pad, hidden in the shadow cast by a tall electronic board that listed airplane arrivals and departures. As they hurried past the board, the schedule was changing to indicate the cancellations of both incoming and outgoing flights.

  Annie reached the bench ahead of Betsy. She sat down on it, with her back very straight and an “I have every right to be here” smile on her face. She placed her suitcase at her feet. Betsy sat down beside her, and put hers under the bench.

  “I guess we take the train after all,” said Annie.

  “It’s just as well, probably. I was speaking off the top of my head. I don’t like flying in bad weather. When that plane starts sliding and bouncing all over the sky, I get scared.”