Read Online Partners In Crime by Katy Munger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katy Munger
Tags: Humorous, cozy, funny mystery, new york city, murder she wrote, traditional mystery, katy munger, gallagher gray, charlotte mcleod, auntie lil, ts hubbert, hubbert and lil, katy munger pen name, wall street mystery
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lovely sweater. I gave it to you, didn't I?"
"No, you did not." She was forever taking
credit for his best clothing. "I bought it in Ireland last
year."
"Hmm. Didn't bring me back one."
"I brought you that lovely shawl," he
protested.
This mollified her. "So you did," she said,
settling the subject.
She began again. "I am positive it was a
woman."
He had known even before she arrived that
the murder would be the sole topic of conversation at dinner. If
truth be told, he had looked forward to the opportunity to discuss
it all with her. Auntie Lil's observations tended to be remarkably
perceptive and correct, although collectively they presented a
bleak view of human nature.
He started at the beginning and told her the
entire story, from Sheila's recounting of the event to his own
observations to his conversations with lieutenant Abromowitz and
the lobby guards.
"The lieutenant sounds like a pompous ass,"
she noted briskly, having listened carefully to his entire account.
Even her chewing, normally lusty and quite an event, had been
hushed and unobtrusive.
"He seems positive that money is behind the
killing, or some sort of insider trading scandal. He's equally
convinced that the killer could easily have slipped by the
guards."
"He may be right," she conceded generously.
"But I doubt it. Pompous people don't have hunches, you know.
They're too full of themselves to see things clearly."
"Unfortunately, his hunch, correct or not,
means that I must go in tomorrow to pull together all the records
he's requested. It's quite a lot. Personnel files on all partners
and top executives. The financial records will have to come from
the treasurer."
"Tomorrow is Saturday," she pointed out.
"All the better. No one will be there but
the security and cleaning staff."
He could tell immediately he was being set
up by the careful way she raised her Bloody Mary, staring into it
as if an image might materialize in its murky depths. For a moment,
he thought she might even have fluttered her eyelashes, but then,
she was far too forthright for that. Bluntness was her only
approach.
"I want to come," she announced.
"Whatever for?"
"To see the crime scene."
"The body has been removed."
"Of course it has." She was insulted by his
assumption that she knew nothing of such techniques. "There may be
something the police have overlooked."
"I don't know if they'll let us back in." He
wondered if the police guard would still be posted.
"I'll take the chance." She stared at him
sternly, almost daring him to refuse.
She would be a monumental pain in the ass at
the office. Her normally inquisitive nature would no doubt go wild
faced with rows of personnel files containing the most minute
information on well over fifteen hundred lives.
"Aren't you busy tomorrow?" he asked.
She snorted and speared her last forkful of
shepherd's pie with gusto. "Doing what? Who'd want to bother with
an old woman like me?"
This he knew not to be true and merely
another symptom of her rather dramatic approach to life, but he
also knew when he was beaten. "Fine, then. I think I can manage
it." He would surrender with grace.
The change in her was astounding. She
briskly wiped her mouth with the linen napkin, folded it neatly at
the side of her plate, pushed away her Bloody Mary and reached for
the ice water. She threw it back like whiskey, slammed the glass
back down, then reached into her cavernous black cloth bag for her
notebook and gold fountain pen. "This is what we're going to do,"
she began.
T.S. stared, a half-chewed chunk of cold
liver dangling from his open mouth.
"For god's sake, Theodore. Close your mouth.
You're going about it all wrong. And so is that Lieutenant
Abromowitz, bless his arrogant heart."
"You planned this," he accused her.
"Of course. When will we ever have the
chance again?" She leaned forward and whispered urgently to him.
"When will we ever have the chance again, Theodore? You have the
time. I have the time. We both have the
"No, you did not." She was forever taking
credit for his best clothing. "I bought it in Ireland last
year."
"Hmm. Didn't bring me back one."
"I brought you that lovely shawl," he
protested.
This mollified her. "So you did," she said,
settling the subject.
She began again. "I am positive it was a
woman."
He had known even before she arrived that
the murder would be the sole topic of conversation at dinner. If
truth be told, he had looked forward to the opportunity to discuss
it all with her. Auntie Lil's observations tended to be remarkably
perceptive and correct, although collectively they presented a
bleak view of human nature.
He started at the beginning and told her the
entire story, from Sheila's recounting of the event to his own
observations to his conversations with lieutenant Abromowitz and
the lobby guards.
"The lieutenant sounds like a pompous ass,"
she noted briskly, having listened carefully to his entire account.
Even her chewing, normally lusty and quite an event, had been
hushed and unobtrusive.
"He seems positive that money is behind the
killing, or some sort of insider trading scandal. He's equally
convinced that the killer could easily have slipped by the
guards."
"He may be right," she conceded generously.
"But I doubt it. Pompous people don't have hunches, you know.
They're too full of themselves to see things clearly."
"Unfortunately, his hunch, correct or not,
means that I must go in tomorrow to pull together all the records
he's requested. It's quite a lot. Personnel files on all partners
and top executives. The financial records will have to come from
the treasurer."
"Tomorrow is Saturday," she pointed out.
"All the better. No one will be there but
the security and cleaning staff."
He could tell immediately he was being set
up by the careful way she raised her Bloody Mary, staring into it
as if an image might materialize in its murky depths. For a moment,
he thought she might even have fluttered her eyelashes, but then,
she was far too forthright for that. Bluntness was her only
approach.
"I want to come," she announced.
"Whatever for?"
"To see the crime scene."
"The body has been removed."
"Of course it has." She was insulted by his
assumption that she knew nothing of such techniques. "There may be
something the police have overlooked."
"I don't know if they'll let us back in." He
wondered if the police guard would still be posted.
"I'll take the chance." She stared at him
sternly, almost daring him to refuse.
She would be a monumental pain in the ass at
the office. Her normally inquisitive nature would no doubt go wild
faced with rows of personnel files containing the most minute
information on well over fifteen hundred lives.
"Aren't you busy tomorrow?" he asked.
She snorted and speared her last forkful of
shepherd's pie with gusto. "Doing what? Who'd want to bother with
an old woman like me?"
This he knew not to be true and merely
another symptom of her rather dramatic approach to life, but he
also knew when he was beaten. "Fine, then. I think I can manage
it." He would surrender with grace.
The change in her was astounding. She
briskly wiped her mouth with the linen napkin, folded it neatly at
the side of her plate, pushed away her Bloody Mary and reached for
the ice water. She threw it back like whiskey, slammed the glass
back down, then reached into her cavernous black cloth bag for her
notebook and gold fountain pen. "This is what we're going to do,"
she began.
T.S. stared, a half-chewed chunk of cold
liver dangling from his open mouth.
"For god's sake, Theodore. Close your mouth.
You're going about it all wrong. And so is that Lieutenant
Abromowitz, bless his arrogant heart."
"You planned this," he accused her.
"Of course. When will we ever have the
chance again?" She leaned forward and whispered urgently to him.
"When will we ever have the chance again, Theodore? You have the
time. I have the time. We both have the
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