Death Of A Dream Maker by Katy Munger Read Free Book Online

after
T.S. had let his disapproving silence speak for itself. “That was a
wretched eulogy and that man deserved to fall in.”
    T.S. refused to comment. Auntie Lil did not even
notice. “Oh, Theodore,” she said as they reached the highway, “This
is all so exciting. Max would have loved it. Did you see those
people? How horrible to think that he spent his life surrounded by
such... such bloodsuckers. I can't wait to hear what they
have to say.”
    T.S. looked over at her as if she were daft, and
nearly sideswiped a bread truck in the process. “No,” he said.
“Absolutely not. We are not going to the mourning.”
    She stared at him innocently. “Why ever not? Max was
a dear friend of mine.”
    “Why ever not? Are you insane? You just created a
huge scene at the funeral, which ended with the widow and rabbi
plopping down on top of a very dead nephew. I seriously doubt
they'll even let you in the front door at the family home.”
    “Me? I did not kill the nephew and you were the one
who knocked the rabbi into the grave.” She stared straight ahead
and primly adjusted her pants over her sturdy ankles.  
    “It might have been me, but it was your
pocketbook.”
    “I will leave the pocketbook in the car.”
    “No. No mourning. I don't care if I never see another
Rosenbloom again. They can bury me alive. I’ll share a grave with
Max and his nephew. But the answer is no.”
    Auntie Lil knew when it was time to give in. A
little. “All right, Theodore. We'll compromise.”
    T.S. glanced sideways at her suspicious acquiesence.
“How?”
    “We will drive to the family home. We will park a few
doors away. And we will watch who arrives and who leaves. That's
all.” She announced her offer as if she were bartering over a bolt
of cloth with a street merchant in New Delhi.
    “What do I get in return?” T.S. asked.
    “I promise not to whine about the mourning for the
next three days and”—her brow furrowed as she cast about for a good
hook—“I promise not to ask you about Lilah Cheswick for the next
three months.”
    “Six months,” he said evenly. “And you’ve got a
deal.”
    “Done.”
    They agreed on their game plan just in time for T.S.
to take the Garden City exit. They headed for the Rosenbloom
home.
     
     
    Their body heat had created a fog inside the car.
Outside, the rain poured. “This is real cozy,” T.S. grumbled,
wrapping his raincoat more tightly around him as he slowly drove
down the road. “What happens if one of us has to go to the
bathroom?”
    “Don't be such a wimp,” Auntie Lil replied. She
squinted at the windshield, too vain to pull out her glasses for a
better look. Fog hampered the view as well. It was, altogether, a
rather futile attempt at spying.
    “Go ahead and put them on,” T.S. said.
    “Put what on?” Auntie Lil asked innocently.
    “Your glasses. I know they're in there.” He nodded at
her pocketbook.
    “Of course,” she said as if suddenly remembering. “I
had forgotten all about them. And, please, don't let me stop you
from putting on your own. I believe they are in your left-hand
pocket, Theodore.”
    She took an eternity to adjust her glasses properly
on her nose, then brightened. “Much better. Quite a turnout, isn't
it?”
    “I'll say. Funny how the people who fled the
graveyard before the cops arrived are now stampeding like lemmings
to the free food and booze here.”
    “I didn't realize lemmings could stampede, dear,”
Auntie Lil said absently.
    T.S. was right. The road was jammed with cars parked
bumper to bumper. Max Rosenbloom had lived in an affluent Garden
City neighborhood. It was filled with huge wooden houses and small
Tudor-style mansions, most built in the thirties or forties when
bare land was not such a popular barometer of wealth. Unlike newer
homes, these featured small but tidy yards, and what land there was
had been given over to the house. Every small patch of lawn was
immaculately manicured, and every window in every house