How to Murder a Millionaire by Nancy Martin Page B

completely wrong about Peach."
    "I'll call you," he said, accepting my handshake.
    Abruzzo moved aside to let me pass. As the detective watched, Abruzzo slipped one hand under my elbow as I started down the stone stairs in my heels. We descended in silence.
    Chapter 5
    When we were out of the detective's earshot at the bottom of the steps, I pulled out of his grasp and said under my breath, "You can put away your six-shooter now."
    "What?"
    "You and Detective Bloom doing your Wild West routine."
    "Yeah, I'm his favorite gunslinger."
    "Are you?" I asked, perhaps too sharply. There was plenty of room under the leather jacket to conceal a weapon.
    "Tonight I'm just your chauffeur, Miss Blackbird." He looked down at me. "You okay?"
    We were the only people under the portico. He pulled car keys from his hip pocket and waited for my response. I wasn't okay. But I nodded.
    "Rough night," Abruzzo said. "I'm sorry about Rory."
    I looked away, nodded again and felt my throat close tight.
    With one hand under my elbow again, he helped me into the front passenger seat of a perfectly sedate Volvo sedan and closed the car door. I used the next few seconds to pull myself together. By the time he slid behind the wheel beside me, I had given myself a strong mental lecture and regained my self-control.
    I said the first thing that came into my head. "Why aren't you driving one of those parade floats you sell at Mick's Muscle Cars?"
    "I like this one. Just don't tell anyone I drive a foreign make, okay?"
    I needn't have worried that Abruzzo was going to force conversation after that. He started the car, fastened his seat belt and drove slowly down Rory's curving driveway and through the gates. The car was comfortable, almost cozy. He paid attention to driving and allowed me to think.
    I pushed the image of Rory's small, crumpled body out of my mind for fear I might start crying again. The idea of blubbering in front of Michael Abruzzo mortified me into calm. Instead, I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes, simply letting impressions float up in my mind.
    The Pendergast sisters anxious to keep as many family secrets as possible. Peach weeping quietly for her longtime lover. Kitty Keough making a scene under the portico. Rory's ties hanging neatly in his closet. Stan Rosenstatz mopping his face with a graying handkerchief. Jill Mascione bristling as Detective Bloom examined my legs as if they were important evidence in a murder case.
    Abruzzo drove the Volvo over a bridge, and I opened my eyes. "Rory had fishing rods in his room. Hanging on the wall."
    Abruzzo didn't seem surprised that this particular remark came out of nowhere. "Trout."
    "I beg your pardon?"
    "Rory liked to fish for trout."
    I turned in the seat and looked at Abruzzo. "Did you know Rory well?"
    "Sure."
    "Sure? What does that mean?"
    He shrugged. "I took him fishing."
    "When?" I demanded, surprised.
    "Lots of times."
    "Lots?"
    "I'm not the usual Pendergast crony, huh?"
    "I just—I'm surprised you associated with him."
    "I didn't think he'd be safe going fishing by himself these last few years. I was afraid he'd fall in and drown. So I went with him. He showed me all his favorite places on the Delaware."
    "Have you known him long?"
    He didn't answer for a moment. In the light of the dashboard, I looked at Abruzzo's profile. His blunt nose, heavy-lidded eyes—kept that way, perhaps, to reveal nothing. I wondered fleetingly if he had cared for Rory. What was he feeling now?
    At last, he said, "I've known Rory a lot of years. He gave me a start when I needed it, and we were— he was a good guy. I'm sorry he's gone."
    "He was murdered," I said.
    The news did not startle Abruzzo. "With the homicide cops there, I figured. Who did it?"
    "We don't know yet."
    He shot a look at me. "We?"
    I didn't answer. I wasn't sure why I'd lumped myself in the same category as the police. I looked at the road again. I knew Peach Treese hadn't murdered Rory, that was all. Bloom's