I gaped at her while she went on, blushing a little, meeting my eyes with her own full of guilt.

"I hate to speak ill of the dead," she said. Betty smacked the back of her hand and rolled her eyes and Mary shrugged, nodded. "The girl was born a flimflam artist. Got it from her grandmother, the first Sadie Hatch. No chance, that child, not one with her mother run off and leaving her to that reprobate to raise her."

Betty was nodding enthusiastically, dealing ...