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

apologized.
“The young man out front kept us. Are we intruding?”
    “No, no, no,” Paulette insisted, confirming that she
was paid by the pupil. “You simply must come in and join our little
gathering.” Her caftan flapped about her like uncoordinated wings
as she moved her arms in emphasis.
    They crept to the center of the room, self-conscious
in their dancing attire. Auntie Lil was acutely aware that she
resembled an oversized M&M in her leotard, especially compared
with the other students—who were astonishingly sleek for their age.
The other women in the class eyed her covertly as they stretched
and bent at the bane. The four men in the room were less critical.
They looked as if they felt vaguely foolish at being there in the
first place. One of them even wiggled his eyebrows at Herbert.
    “We’re rank beginners,” Auntie Lil explained. “With
emphasis on the ‘rank.’”
    “No matter, no matter,” Paulette gushed, escorting
her to the barre. “Today we are working on musical interpretation.
It will give you just a taste of how soaring to the soul ballet can
be. Good for your body tone, too, of course.” She patted Auntie
Lil’s fanny in a conspiratorial way and it was all Auntie Lil could
do to resist demanding that Paulette strip off the camouflage of
her caftan and let it all hang out with the rest of them.
    Herbert was as comfortable as a duck in water. He
seemed to glide effortlessly toward the barre, accepted the space
the other students made for him with a graceful nod, and began to
stretch. Auntie Lil watched him enviously.
    He was of indeterminate age. The best she could guess
was older than seventy and younger than eighty. But he was also
undeniably fit. His small frame was compact and muscled, upheld by
a pair of deceptively thin legs. She already knew his strength and
endurance were that of a man several decades younger. More than
once she had been forced to call it quits on the dance floor when
he had been willing to continue. Herbert also had wonderful
equipoise. She suspected he practiced martial arts in private, some
sort of
balancing-the-harmony-of-the-body-with-the-harmony-of-the-world
type thing, but she hadn’t the energy to ask him if her theory were
true. His agility and balance would serve him well today.
    Auntie Lil was another story. She was a stout woman,
certainly not fat, but no one would ever call her willowy. She had
not changed shape or gained weight in forty years. Her body had
found its equilibrium and, despite her fondness of food and Bloody
Marys, had stayed at its most comfortable size. Unfortunately, her
optimum physical shape was nowhere near that sought after in
ballet. American ballet dancers were tall. Auntie Lil was medium
height, at best. Ballerinas had small breasts and long, slender
arms that could arc above their heads in graceful positions de
bras. But Auntie Lil had developed large square shoulders and
impressive biceps during her career as an assistant fashion
designer. She still carried much of her bulk up high, giving her an
awkward center of gravity. Finally, most dancers also had long,
lean legs; Auntie Lil’s were like muscular sausages. Despite these
obstacles, she was grimly determined to prove to herself that she
could be a ballet dancer.
    Too bad Paulette Puccinni did not want to help. “Face
the barre,” she ordered the class. “Grasp it firmly. And listen
carefully as we work on posture. It sounds simple, but it is not.
Ready? Go!” She began to bark out orders as if she were a 
gunnery sergeant training a new crew. “Bend your body over the
front third of your foot. Knee up and straight in back. Thighs out.
Let me see those inner thighs. Lift up the abdominal muscles. Up,
up, up. Lift the rib cage. Up, up, up. Relax the shoulders. Stretch
the neck. Head erect.” She clapped her hands sharply on each
command, the echoing sound in counterpoint to the impro–vised tune
her accompanist contributed.
     Auntie Lil tried to do as she was