Read Online A Motive For Murder by Katy Munger - Free Book Online

but she still felt
the confidence that comes from knowing one is dressed for an
occasion. Unfortunately, nothing in her current wardrobe would do.
She hated synthetic fibers and it was tough to find tights in 100
percent cotton. In the end, she stopped off at a lovely boutique
near the subway and found exactly what she wanted: a raspberry
leotard and matching tights.
    The young man at the front desk of the Dance Center
was alarmingly cooperative. Of course, they could take a sample
class. There was one starting in just a few minutes, in fact, and
if they were interested in an entire series of classes... He
launched into a sales pitch that left them dizzy and wondering
about the financial footing of the place. Promising to return and
discuss their bargain lifetime plan for multiple classes later,
Auntie Lil and Herbert embarked on their latest subterfuge.
    Herbert was well dressed for the occasion. He emerged
from the locker room of the Dance Center clad in sleek black biking
shorts. His ebony knit top had cut-off sleeves, just like a
professional dancer. He wore black Chinese slippers that made
Auntie Lil wish she had thought of them first; her own clunky white
tennis shoes spoiled the effect of her ensemble.
    The sales spiel had taken so long that they were late
for class and apparently interrupted at a bad time. About a dozen
elderly people lined the mirrored room, their faces reflecting the
polished glow of a gleaming hardwood
floor.           
    They were leaning against the barre—a long wooden rod
that rimmed the room just above waist height. Their eyes were fixed
eagerly on an argument that had broken out at the piano. A spry old
lady no more than five feet tall stood nose-to-chest with the
accompanist, Jerry Vanderbilt. A plump woman dressed in a
diaphanous caftan was attempting to referee. Auntie Lil correctly
inferred that the plump women was Paulette Puccinni, maître de
ballet—or head of the Metro’s corps de ballet—when she was not
instructing retirees on their form.
    “I do not play too loud,” Jerry Vanderbilt was
shouting. “How dare you insinuate I am deaf.” He was of medium
height, with well-muscled shoulders. In fact, he was so
extraordinarily strong-looking that Auntie Lil wondered if the
physical demands of playing the piano for a living could account
for his stature alone. Perhaps he lifted weights. Vanderbilt also
had a chiseled, almost craggy face with a proud nose, wide eyes,
and generous mouth. A German face, Auntie Lil thought, or perhaps
Austrian, with maybe a touch of Eastern Europe in his prominent
chin. His reddish brown hair was receding rapidly from a high
forehead that was, at this particular moment, flushed an angry
red.
    The accompanist’s strength did not intimidate his
current opponent. The tiny old lady scowled at his denial, then
produced a small plastic box from the pocket of her tunic. She
carefully extracted two wax earplugs from the box and dramatically
inserted them into her ears, screwing each into place as if she
were securing electrical fuses. “You sound like a herd of
thundering elephants!” she snarled for emphasis.
    Jerry glowered. “How appropriate. Since you dance
like an elephant.”
    “Please, please, please!” Paulette Puccinni pleaded,
sweeping her caftan into the air as if taking flight. “You are
upsetting the artistic air of the room. It is true all dance is
based on emotion, but this is not the mood we are attempting to
create.” She patted her student on the back, made soothing noises
under her breath, and steered the old woman back to the barre. When
she returned to the piano, Auntie Lil distinctly heard her hiss,
“I’d like to rip her shriveled old ears off,” to Jerry through
clenched teeth.
    Jerry smiled thinly and began a dignified adagio
beat, but stopped when he noticed Auntie Lil and Herbert standing
by the door. “Newbies,” he said, sighing in exasperation.
    “I’m so sorry we’re late,” Auntie Lil