Free How to Murder a Millionaire by Nancy Martin

man—"
    "He wasn't shot. He was probably smothered."
    He went on, undeterred. "If somebody killed an old man, they're not going to think twice about roughing you up to keep the secret."
    "I'm not helpless."
    "That has nothing to do—"
    "I was on the fencing team in college."
    He saw that I was teasing, and some of the heat went out of his temper. Wryly, he said, "Great. If somebody comes after you with a foil, you're all set."
    "I'm not going to do anything foolish."
    "What are you going to do?"
    "Just talk to some friends. Now eat your supper. It's really very good."
    He gave in grudgingly and ate with steady purpose while I went on about something nonsensical. I wanted to get him off the subject of Rory's death. No doubt I wanted to get myself off that subject, too.
    But I couldn't help the detours my subconscious mind took as I sat at that small table. I wanted to know who'd killed Rory.
    I needed to know.
    Chapter 6
    I slept badly that night and woke early the next morning, Saturday.
    The world had not changed. Rory was dead, and I wished I could do something about it.
    I phoned Peach's house early, but her housekeeper informed me that Mrs. Treese was still sleeping and planned to spend the day with her family. I sent her my sympathy, then sat down and wrote her a long note filled with my own fond memories of Rory. It was difficult to read what I'd written through my tears.
    I decided I needed to blow off some steam after that. I took my bicycle out of the barn and climbed on. I headed for New Hope, first passing the split rail fences of Blackbird Farm and then the long parking lot of Mick's Muscle Cars. The plastic flags of the car lot snapped a cheeky greeting to me in the morning breeze. One of the salesmen came out of the trailer that served as their office and gave me a neighborly wave. The Delaware River ran smoothly on my left, shining silver in the sunlight. I pedaled easily, glad to have sharply cool air cleaning out my lungs.
    The road ran along the river, past landmarks of Pennsylvania's long history. William Penn had taken possession of his stretch of Bucks County land just up the road from Blackbird Farm two hundred years ago. His friends built farms along the river, too, including the Blackbirds. Our fieldstone house and barn stood on an especially fertile stretch of ground that lay between a curve of the Delaware and the parallel canal. The canal had been used in the eighteenth century to haul Pennsylvania coal south to Philadelphia and Baltimore. More recently, the Park Service had taken over the canal, cleaned it up and promoted it as a tourist attraction. All summer long, mules pulled replica barges full of camera-toting tourists along the tow-path past the small communities that lined the river.
    The Delaware hadn't seen much action since George Washington gathered up his beleaguered army on Christmas day and crossed over to New Jersey, there to march on Trenton where the Hessian army lay. At least two Blackbird men had gone on that adventure, and family lore had it that one spunky daughter had climbed into breeches and tagged along.
    As the morning sunshine brightened, I could see the New Jersey side of the Delaware on my left. On my right I soon began to pass hills that concealed vast neighborhoods of newly built tract houses—all as big as palaces, it seemed, but covered in vinyl siding. Every time I ventured south from Blackbird Farm, those serpentine cul-de-sacs seemed to wind deeper into historic farmlands. Suburbia sprawled farther and farther into Bucks County each week.
    Libby was on the right track, I thought. A few protests wouldn't hurt.
    I pedaled into New Hope some time later, breathing hard but feeling pleasantly revived in spirit. I passed a line of Victorian houses gaily decorated for spring beneath a canopy of leafy trees. Angelina's restaurant appeared, and I noted a good crowd of cars already parked in the side lot. The Saturday brunch patrons spilled out onto the porch. A couple