How to Murder a Millionaire Read Online Free PDF Page B

granddaughter's wedding, yes. Oh, Lincoln is your nephew, isn't he? By marriage? Well, it's the talk of the whole town, I know, and I wish it were over already. See? Rory's not the only one being a bore."
    "You'll recover," I said. "Both of you."
    She smiled, gave me an air kiss and slipped off in the direction of the powder room.
    I pressed through the crush of men in the dining room to where the bar had been set up. I knew most everyone there and exchanged pleasantries with a few people. Some others saw me coming and subtly turned their backs, making me wonder from whom my father had borrowed money to abscond. Jamie Scaithe, looking tan from his latest trip to his family's Bermuda house, waved. I waved back at the alpha dog of Todd's pack, but continued to the bar. I didn't want to hear Jamie ask again with exaggerated concern how I was coping without my husband.
    Just as I reached the bar, a tallish young man with a shaven head grabbed his drink and spun around. We nearly collided.
    "Oh, I'm sorry," I said automatically.
    He managed to avoid spilling the drink on either one of us and uttered a surly, "No problem." Then he pushed past me and hastily plunged into the party.
    I blinked after him. Peach Treese wasn't the only upset guest.
    Jill Mascione, whose father had built Main Events into the most relied upon catering service in Philadelphia, was mixing drinks with effortless speed. We'd been friends since the days of the lavish parties my parents threw when they were burning through the family fortune. Jill and I used to play together under the bunted tables. Now she wore a tuxedo-style jacket and ran the bar with cool efficiency while I learned to be a reporter.
    "Hey," she said when she spotted me. "What's this? Your Audrey Hepburn period?"
    "I raided Grandmama's closet."
    "Looks good on you. And I'm not the only one who's noticed." Hands busy, she jerked her head in the direction from which I'd come.
    "Jamie Scaithe can take a long swim in the Schuylkill."
    "You don't date cokeheads, huh?"
    "I'm learning not to be Peter Pan's enabler."
    "Atta girl. It's time you were the main event in a relationship."
    "Listen to you," I said on a laugh, knowing full well her relationship with her volatile partner, Betsy, was on-again, off-again. "How about lunch some day soon?"
    "You're on. I'll call you."
    She reached under the table for a bottle of champagne she'd clearly kept precisely chilled in ice water for someone special. "I saw Libby here a few minutes ago. She okay?"
    "Just crazy, but what else is new?"
    Jill grinned, pouring. "Heard from your folks?"
    "A postcard weeks ago. They're having a ball."
    She laughed. "I expect nothing less."
    "Your dad?"
    With another tip of her head towards the kitchen, she said, "Running the show, as usual. He says we're always on the edge of bankruptcy, and he's the only one who can save us." She handed me the champagne.
    "Are things that tight?"
    "We're afloat," Jill said. "He's too generous with people. If he'd let me take over, we might actually make a profit."
    I knew all about parents and money trouble. "I need a glass for the guest of honor, too," I said. "I'm going upstairs to lure him down."
    "Good luck." She poured another glass and then wiped her hands on the bar towel. "I took him some supper a little while ago. He's had one scene after another tonight. First Kitty Keough—man, she is just a few rattles short of a snake—and some other guy I didn't know. That bald guy who just ran you over. Weird party. I think Rory's hiding, and I don't blame him."
    "I'll see what I can do. Catch you later."
    I took two glasses of gently fizzing champagne and left Jill to do her job. I didn't want to draw any attention to my mission by going up the main staircase, so I went slowly through the throng of acquaintances towards the kitchen, chatting my way along.
    The back staircase of the Pendergast mansion had been a source of great fun for the Blackbird girls when we were kids. It wound upwards