Read Online How to Murder a Millionaire by Nancy Martin - Free Book Online
Authors: Nancy Martin
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Private Investigators, Detective and Mystery Stories, Mystery Fiction, Women Detectives, Journalists, Sisters, Women Journalists, Upper Class, Millionaires, Philadelphia (Pa.), Blackbird Sisters (Fictitious Characters), Socialites, Murder - Philadelphia (Pa.)
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automatic assumption that she had made me angry. Peach didn't need to be prosecuted. She needed to be protected.
Abruzzo said, "Looks like I've given your buddy Bloom a new suspect."
"You mean you? Don't be silly." Gathering my courage, I said, "I gather you're acquainted with the detective, too?"
"We spent some time together."
"Oh?"
He shrugged again. "In the juvenile system."
"The juvenile system," I repeated, uncomprehending. "Oh."
"I wasn't an especially well-behaved teenager."
"Neither was Detective Bloom, I gather."
"He wasn't bad. I think his family sent him into the program to—what do they call it now? To get scared straight."
"Is that why you were there, too?"
He smiled, watching the road. "I was a couple of years older, a little more experienced. A judge seemed to think some additional time away from my—from negative influences might be rehabilitating."
"Was it?"
"I don't steal motorcycles anymore," he answered. "I met Rory around that time, as a matter of fact."
"Really? How?"
"When I was ushered out of the state's accommodations, he had just started a mentoring program. I ended up getting paired with him."
"You met Rory when you were a teenager?"
"Yeah. He made me go back to school, get my GED, take some college classes. And he helped me start my first business."
I sat back in the seat, floored. If Abruzzo had told me Rory raised Siamese cats and gave them to Eskimos I couldn't have been more surprised. I had spent the whole evening showing the police how well I knew Rory Pendergast, and here was information I'd had no clue about. "For heaven's sake. I knew he had strong feelings about teens from troubled—I'm sorry, I mean—"
"It's okay."
"He helped you start in business?"
"He loaned me money from time to time. I didn't want to borrow from my own family, and with my track record I needed a source other than a bank to get started. For a while, I owed him a hell of a lot of cash. I still do, actually."
How many others had Rory helped in the same way? How many young men of questionable background?
Breaking across my thoughts, Abruzzo said, "Why did you say don't be silly?"
"What?"
"When I said Bloom could add my name to his list of suspects. Why is that silly?"
"I don't know," I said. "It just is."
Bloom had become a police detective after his sojourn in jail. And what had Michael Abruzzo become? No, not a murderer. If he took an old man to visit his favorite fishing spots, surely he couldn't be capable of killing him.
But I wondered how Abruzzo's perspective on crime might help figure out who had killed Rory Pendergast. Did he look at murder with a different point of view than Detective Bloom?
"Listen," he said after the moment stretched, "I still haven't had any dinner, and I'm starving. What about you?"
I hadn't eaten anything in a long time myself, and I was genuinely hungry. Spending a little more time with Abruzzo didn't seem like a bad idea just then either.
"Okay," I said cautiously.
"A burger?"
A burger sounded heavenly. "Sure."
"No, wait," he said. "I've got a better plan."
He turned off the highway a few miles later just over the Bucks County line and ended up in a neighborhood of dilapidated warehouses surrounded by acres of broken asphalt and scrubby bushes. The Volvo veered around potholes and nosed through a labyrinth of parked trucks. A tractor-trailer rumbled past. Eventually Abruzzo found a nondescript bar, the Blue Note, standing on the edge of the warehouse district. He seemed to know the parking lot well and slid the Volvo into a space between a Dumpster and a big Lincoln Navigator.
Inside, the place was dim, lit by neon beer signs behind the bar and a television turned to hockey highlights. Three patrons in flannel shirts and baseball caps hunched at the bar and stared up at the television. The bartender leaned on his elbow beside them. At a table, a white-haired gentleman with a much younger woman sipped espresso.
The bartender looked up when we came
Abruzzo said, "Looks like I've given your buddy Bloom a new suspect."
"You mean you? Don't be silly." Gathering my courage, I said, "I gather you're acquainted with the detective, too?"
"We spent some time together."
"Oh?"
He shrugged again. "In the juvenile system."
"The juvenile system," I repeated, uncomprehending. "Oh."
"I wasn't an especially well-behaved teenager."
"Neither was Detective Bloom, I gather."
"He wasn't bad. I think his family sent him into the program to—what do they call it now? To get scared straight."
"Is that why you were there, too?"
He smiled, watching the road. "I was a couple of years older, a little more experienced. A judge seemed to think some additional time away from my—from negative influences might be rehabilitating."
"Was it?"
"I don't steal motorcycles anymore," he answered. "I met Rory around that time, as a matter of fact."
"Really? How?"
"When I was ushered out of the state's accommodations, he had just started a mentoring program. I ended up getting paired with him."
"You met Rory when you were a teenager?"
"Yeah. He made me go back to school, get my GED, take some college classes. And he helped me start my first business."
I sat back in the seat, floored. If Abruzzo had told me Rory raised Siamese cats and gave them to Eskimos I couldn't have been more surprised. I had spent the whole evening showing the police how well I knew Rory Pendergast, and here was information I'd had no clue about. "For heaven's sake. I knew he had strong feelings about teens from troubled—I'm sorry, I mean—"
"It's okay."
"He helped you start in business?"
"He loaned me money from time to time. I didn't want to borrow from my own family, and with my track record I needed a source other than a bank to get started. For a while, I owed him a hell of a lot of cash. I still do, actually."
How many others had Rory helped in the same way? How many young men of questionable background?
Breaking across my thoughts, Abruzzo said, "Why did you say don't be silly?"
"What?"
"When I said Bloom could add my name to his list of suspects. Why is that silly?"
"I don't know," I said. "It just is."
Bloom had become a police detective after his sojourn in jail. And what had Michael Abruzzo become? No, not a murderer. If he took an old man to visit his favorite fishing spots, surely he couldn't be capable of killing him.
But I wondered how Abruzzo's perspective on crime might help figure out who had killed Rory Pendergast. Did he look at murder with a different point of view than Detective Bloom?
"Listen," he said after the moment stretched, "I still haven't had any dinner, and I'm starving. What about you?"
I hadn't eaten anything in a long time myself, and I was genuinely hungry. Spending a little more time with Abruzzo didn't seem like a bad idea just then either.
"Okay," I said cautiously.
"A burger?"
A burger sounded heavenly. "Sure."
"No, wait," he said. "I've got a better plan."
He turned off the highway a few miles later just over the Bucks County line and ended up in a neighborhood of dilapidated warehouses surrounded by acres of broken asphalt and scrubby bushes. The Volvo veered around potholes and nosed through a labyrinth of parked trucks. A tractor-trailer rumbled past. Eventually Abruzzo found a nondescript bar, the Blue Note, standing on the edge of the warehouse district. He seemed to know the parking lot well and slid the Volvo into a space between a Dumpster and a big Lincoln Navigator.
Inside, the place was dim, lit by neon beer signs behind the bar and a television turned to hockey highlights. Three patrons in flannel shirts and baseball caps hunched at the bar and stared up at the television. The bartender leaned on his elbow beside them. At a table, a white-haired gentleman with a much younger woman sipped espresso.
The bartender looked up when we came
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