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get to her. Her nerves wouldn’t have been able to take this.”
    â€œMen?” Michael’s stomach turned cold and felt like it had been filled with broken glass.
    â€œYes. Two of them. One shot that poor woman while the other drove a motorbike to make their getaway.” Iris smoothed her coat. “I refuse to let that happen. Bad enough I saw them murder her.”
    â€œGetaway?” Michael knew Iris loved murder mysteries, though she was actually a writer of historical novels. She and Molly shared favorite authors and chatted about books they’d read.
    â€œAs I said, two men drove up on a motorbike. One got off and shot Abigail to death. He searched her and took her handbag. By that time, Rachel and I were shouting at them. Rachel ran for help while I watched helpless, as the men got back on their motorbike and drove away. Would you call it something other than a getaway?”
    â€œNo.” Michael looked through the front window. Irwin drove smoothly. “You saw them do this?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhy did they attack her?”
    â€œI don’t know. Rachel and I were out in the alley before Abigail. Maybe they left us alone because there were two of us, but I think they were after Abigail.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhile that one searched her, he took something from his pocket—a phone, perhaps. He looked at Abigail again, snatched the handbag and they were gone in seconds.”
    Immediately, Michael’s mind spun, bouncing off the various angles that his imagination supplied him with. “What were you doing out in the alley?”
    An uncomfortable expression crossed Iris’s face. “To be quite frank, I found myself feeling a bit under the weather. Rachel walked me out to get some air.”
    â€œShe was nervous, sir.” Irwin looked back in the rearview mirror. “Tonight’s introduction at the event didn’t agree with her.”
    â€œWas that why Abigail was out there?”
    â€œShe was having a cig,” Iris said.
    â€œOkay.” The iPhone buzzed in Michael’s hands again, but he ignored it when he saw it was Molly wanting an update. “So they were after her handbag?”
    â€œI don’t know. It all happened so fast.”
    Michael took a breath and let it out. “Where are we going?”
    â€œTo Abigail’s house.”
    â€œWhy would the murderers go there?”
    â€œBecause they didn’t get what they were looking for.”
    â€œHow do you know that?”
    â€œBecause I heard one of them say ‘It’s not here!’” Irisshrugged. “I’m thinking that’s why they took her purse—to get her keys.”
    Michael considered what they were facing and sat back in the seat. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt thick. He didn’t know if he hoped Irwin arrived in time or not.

CHAPTER FIVE
    I RWIN PULLED THE LIMOUSINE to a halt beside the curb. The luxury car almost filled the street and drew the attention of a few neighbors.
    Before Michael realized what Iris was doing, she had opened the door and slid out.
    â€œIris.” Michael scrambled after her but was hard pressed to catch up. The years hadn’t seemed to slow the housekeeper and she was thin as a greyhound.
    â€œDon’t forget to take pictures, Michael.” Iris never turned around as she headed straight for a three-story building. “I’m sure the inspector would prefer a photograph of the murderers instead of our descriptions.”
    Frustrated but recognizing she had a point, Michael hurried back to the car and reached inside for his computer bag. By the time he’d grabbed the digital camera from one of the pockets—he never traveled without a camera—Iris was already across the street. He silently cursed, but his heart was pounding fiercely and he knew he was equally caught up in the anticipation of the chase. He thrived on competition and relished physical