A Motive For Murder by Katy Munger Read Free Book Online

struggle. “Fatima takes over as Clara. Rudy
will dance the roles of Drosselmeyer and the Prince. And I will be
the board’s official representative in the matter of Bobby Morgan’s
death.”
    “And I will assist you,” Glick added.
    “No, you will not,” Auntie Lil corrected him. “How
can we expect to appear impartial if one of the suspects assists in
the investigation?”
    “See here,” Glick protested. “Why am I a suspect and
you are not?”
    “Because I was sitting right up front in full view of
three thousand people when Bobby Morgan was killed,” Auntie Lil
explained logically. “I am sure there are many witnesses in this
very room who saw me.”
    A murmur of assent rose from the back of the room. It
was true: Auntie Lil had been pretty hard to miss in that purple
getup she’d had on.
    “I protest,” Lane said firmly. “You have no right to
such power.”
    “Oh, let her,” a woman suggested from the back of the
room. “It will get her out of our hair.”
    Ruth Beretsky cleared her throat and the entire board
turned to stare. She shrank from the scrutiny but gathered her
courage to speak. “I don’t see why we can’t accept Miss Hubbert’s
offer,” she said. “She isn’t asking for money. She has experience.
And a man is dead, after all. I think it’s rather generous of her
to offer, myself....” Her voice trailed off as the full impact of
Lane’s glare sank in, but Ruth still managed to hold her chin
defiantly high and refused to reverse her
opinion.    
    “Let’s vote so we can go home,” someone suggested.
“This place gives me the creeps.”
    “I’ll not have her interfering,” Lane began, but was
overruled by other voices calling for a vote.
    Before Lane knew what had happened, the vote had been
taken. Auntie Lil’s plan was approved and the meeting was
adjourned.
    “Wait!” Lane cried out as board members streamed for
the door, eager to get back to their murderless lives. “What about
the leak? Someone here is a spy. Someone is talking to the press. I
demand we find out who it is!”
    Her words were in vain. The board members had
scattered. Not even Ruth Beretsky stayed behind to agree.
     
     
    Despite her seeming indifference, Auntie Lil was just
as eager as Lane Rogers to determine Margo McGregor’s source for
her newspaper column on Fatima Jones. After all, she thought it
might relate to Bobby Morgan’s murder. So she took the direct
approach. She arrived at the Manhattan offices of New York
Newsday and refused to leave the waiting room until the
newspaper located Margo. Jimmy Breslin spent a few minutes hovering
behind a potted palm while he evaluated Auntie Lil as potential
fodder for his own Runyonesque column, but when she seized the
opportunity to take a catnap and began to snore, he slunk away in
disappointment.
    The harried receptionist finally located Margo in a
third-floor snack area. “Why didn’t you return my calls last
month?” the petite columnist asked as she hurried out to greet
Auntie Lil. “First your nephew calls me and leaves a dozen urgent
messages and then I don’t even get a call back from either one of
you?”
    Margo McGregor was pint-sized but she carried a lot
of weight in city press circles. It was rumored that the mayor sent
her a dozen roses each week just to stay on her good side. His
strategy was hopelessly old-fashioned and seldom worked, but the
poor man kept trying. Roses did not dissuade Margo McGregor. Not
even a Scud missile would cause her to miss a beat. She was a human
wolverine. Her deceptively friendly face twinkled out at readers
complete with button nose, friendly eyes, and an innocuous
schoolgirl flip to her short brown hair. But she was one of the
most sarcastic—and skilled—investigative reporters on any of New
York City’s dailies. She had brought down much bigger organizations
than the Metropolitan Ballet and would not hesitate to use her wit
and wiles against the pope himself if she felt he deserved