Have Your Cake and Kill Him Too Read Online Free PDF Page B

media genius, he’d been miraculously elected to the Pennsylvania legislature, where a young and handsome scion of an old family created quite a stir. By keeping his head down and other body parts out of scandal, he attracted the attention of his party’s chieftains. Some tentative fund-raising turned into an avalanche of money and now there was talk of a campaign for a US Senate seat. For those of us who remembered Boy as the kid who knocked out his own front teeth with a tennis racket, it was hard to believe.
    I said, “What’s going on? Why is the Kingsley’s truck here?”
    Boy smoothed his thick brown hair off his forehead. He wore a patriotic tie printed with little waving flags. “My uncle Zell is selling the place. And everything in it.”
    â€œNow? This minute?”
    Boy nodded glumly. “He’s trying to pull a fast one on the rest of the family. We got here as quickly as we could, but Kingsley’s has security guards all over the house. We can’t get inside.”
    â€œBoy, how awful!”
    â€œWe want nothing more than a few family keepsakes, but Zell says no. I don’t mind losing the house so much. It’s kind of an ugly old pile, don’t you think?” He looked up at the imposing structure. “But gee, I sure wish I could have my old train set.”
    â€œThe house is magnificent!” I argued, shocked that anyone would think of selling such an estate without the approval of the whole family. “And each room is a masterpiece. The library alone—with the Alfons Mucha lithographs embedded in the wallpaper! I love Art Nouveau.”
    â€œWho’s Art Nouveau?” Boy asked, genuinely mystified.
    In that moment, I was sure Boykin had found his calling. Suddenly, I could clearly picture him walking in the shadow of a helicopter, amiably cupping his ear and playing deaf to the cries of his constituents.
    â€œUhm, Art Noveau is—well, I’m just sorry about the whole situation. You must all be devastated.”
    â€œYeah, my dad just left in a temper.”
    â€œI saw him. He looked very upset.”
    Boy sighed. “Frankly, I’m glad he took off. You never know when Dad might do something really crazy. He hasn’t been himself lately. Did you see his motorcycles?”
    â€œYes, but he won’t be using them in the near future. We had a little fender bender, and the bikes ended up in the ditch by the driveway.”
    â€œWell, that’s a relief.”
    Boy’s father, Pierpoint, had been raised at Fitch’s Fancy along with various siblings. Due to a glitch in someone’s will, the house had not passed to Pointy, but to his sister instead—and upon her death, to her second husband, best known to all of Philadelphia as “that rat bastard,” Zell Orcutt, who was universally disliked and snubbed by the Old Money crowd.
    Zell, it appeared, was getting his revenge now.
    Boy said, “Dad’s ready to murder Zell over this.”
    When he first rode into Philadelphia, Zell claimed to be an Oklahoma wildcatter and quickly won the affections of a rich, susceptible widow, Hannah Fitch Barnstable. After they eloped, Zell’s true character started to show. First he was thrown out of the Schuylkill Club for cheating at cards. Then there was a hushed-up affair concerning missing bearer bonds. Instead of lazy, glamorous afternoon parties with longtime friends, Zell threw splashy bashes with lots of social climbers. He walked around carrying his own pint of cheap bourbon, slapping backs and nuzzling his wife’s friends.
    And everyone heard whispers that he’d impregnated two of his stepdaughter’s high school friends.
    My own unpleasant brush with Zell happened during a Christmas party at Fitch’s Fancy. While whispering with a boy in the shadow of the staircase, I’d heard Zell slap his wife on the landing above us. My friend fled moments later when Zell strutted down