Have Your Cake and Kill Him Too by Nancy Martin Page B

Libby.”
    â€œLibby.” Boy put on his politician’s smile. “Of course I remember you.”
    Beguilingly, Libby shook his hand. “Hello, Boy. I suppose I need to call you Senator Fitch now.”
    â€œOf course not.” Boy gazed down at her, oozing a fondness that looked genuine. “You were the reason I never quite learned my multiplication tables. Somehow, I could never concentrate on my homework when you were around.”
    â€œWhat a lovely thing to say.” Libby had stars in her eyes, and I could see Boy had another vote.
    I could also sense a dangerous flicker of electricity in the air, so I said briskly, “Come sit down, Boy. Have some coffee.”
    â€œI had no idea you lived like this, Nora.” Boy glanced up at the vaulted ceiling of the kitchen as if expecting to see a vampire bat hanging from the dusty rafters.
    â€œIf I let the cobwebs get carried away, Vincent Price shows up.”
    He frowned. “Your cleaning service?”
    â€œNo, Boy, I only meant—well, please have a seat.” I took Boy’s arm to guide him into a chair.
    Boy hadn’t shaved and suddenly I realized he seemed more dazed than usual. I handed him the take-out coffee intended for me. Emma sat across from him, and Libby and I took the other seats so that he was surrounded by expectant Blackbird faces.
    He placed his copy of the morning newspaper on the table. “I don’t know where to start.”
    â€œBagel?” Libby asked.
    He shook his head and put down his coffee cup. “Emma says you haven’t seen today’s paper yet. So you haven’t heard the police arrested my father for Zell Orcutt’s murder.”
    We all gasped.
    I said, “Boy, we had no idea! I’m so sorry.”
    â€œThe police came in the middle of the night. Dad lives in one of the cottages on the Fitch’s Fancy property. I stay with him when I’m not in the state capital, and I—I’m sorry.” His train of thought chugged away from him, and he rubbed his face. “I’ve been up all night. I’m not making much sense.”
    The Fitch cottages were more like mansions than their names implied. The four large houses were occupied by various Fitch relatives, although I’d heard they were owned by Zell and grandfathered to the relatives rent-free. Pierpoint lived in one, Verbena another. Some cousins occupied the other two, although they also had homes in warmer climates. All of the family treated the grounds of Fitch’s Fancy like a huge park, one so large they rarely saw their relatives.
    I said, “What do the police think happened?”
    â€œI don’t know. Dad went to reason with Zell about selling the estate, but—well, you saw Dad leave. He was angry, so I guess the discussion went badly.” Boy picked up one of the diet books and frowned at the cover. “Thing is, Dad threatened Zell once before. In front of witnesses. So the police figured they had an ongoing disagreement.”
    â€œDid they?”
    â€œDidn’t everyone disagree with Zell?” Boy asked.
    Emma had grabbed the newspaper and was skimming the front-page article about the murder. “The cops didn’t arrest Pointy. They just call him a ‘person of interest.’ That’s a big difference. Maybe the geezer didn’t knock off Orcutt. Maybe they’re just using the rubber hoses to find out what he knows.”
    â€œEm’s always joking,” I said, noting how Boy’s face went white. “Did the police find the murder weapon?”
    â€œNot yet,” Emma replied.
    Boy said, “There’s a collection of bows in the billiards room at Fitch’s Fancy. Chances are good whoever killed him simply took one.” From his pocket, he fished a small object. “I don’t know if it makes any difference, but after the police left, I found this in the garden.”
    We leaned forward to look.
    â€œAn