The Passover Murder by Lee Harris Read Free Book Online Page B

answers.”
    “What do you think these people want to hear?” I asked.
    “What you said when you first told me about this, what Mel told you, that her aunt was doing something noble, a favor someone asked for, and he killed her. That makes Aunt Iris a hero, a martyr, someone we admire and love even more than before. Nobody wants to know that a beloved relative was killed by a mugger for her jewelry and the couple of bucks in her wallet.”
    “You’re right, that’s very painful. There’s that sense of a life wasted. It’s much harder to accept than a death that resulted from bravery or generosity.”
    “So there you have it. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find some piece of paper in Mel’s grandfather’s apartment that will explain Iris’s death.”
    “I doubt that. He’s alive and has all his faculties. If he knows something, I’m sure he would have told the police or the family.”
    “Then maybe you’ll just have a good time looking around an old apartment. Where was the body found?”
    “I forgot to ask. I’ll ask Marilyn in the morning. Before I give up on this, I’d like to look at the file.”
    He gave me his grin. “How’d I guess? We’ll get it for you, honey. I just need a precinct. Not to change the subject, but are those Mel’s own cookies sitting on the counter?”
    “Just waiting for you. You have enough cold chicken to fill all the empty spaces?” I always have something waiting for Jack when he comes home. On a typical day he doesn’t have time to eat between his tour at the Sixty-fifth and the start of his first class.
    “Plenty. And that was a good tomato. Didn’t taste like the plastic one I had for lunch.”
    “Then dig in. They’re all for you.”
    “Let me at ’em.”
    The phone rang early in the morning, and I sensed some change in plans was about to happen.
    “Chris? It’s Marilyn. How are you this morning?”
    “I’m fine. Ready to go.”
    “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to suggest a little change in our itinerary. I talked to my Aunt Sylvie yesterday. I know you want to talk to her, and I thought I’d try to set something up. She’s adamant that you see her before you do anything else. Would you mind?”
    “Of course not. When would she like to see me?”
    “This morning. Since we were going into the city anyway, I think we can work it out. She lives in the Bronx, on the Grand Concourse. Do you know it?”
    “I’ve heard of it.”
    “I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive in together. When we’re finished at Sylvie’s, I’ll drive us down to Pop’s apartment. How’s nine o’clock?”
    “I’ll be ready.”

6
    Actually, I was a little sorry I wouldn’t get to speak to Sylvie alone. I wasn’t sure how Marilyn would react to my questioning. Ideally, when you interview someone you want it one on one, without anyone else present who might prompt or contradict the one you’re asking. But I decided to set aside my concerns until we reached Aunt Sylvie.
    Marilyn picked me up punctually and we drove into the city, talking all the way. When we reached the Grand Concourse, I absolutely gasped.
    “It’s like the Champs Elysées,” I said, looking at the wide center lanes and the narrower side lanes separated by grassy strips. “How does anyone cross from one side to the other?”
    “With great care,” Marilyn said. “Cars tend to speed and you’ve got to watch yourself. I’m going to make a U-turn up ahead and see if I can park on Aunt Sylvie’s side so we don’t have to cross.” At the light she swung left, crossing the oncoming lanes, the grassy strip, and finally turning in to the parked-up lane next to the sidewalk.
    “There’s one,” she said.
    Sure enough, there was a space just big enough for one car with a little elbow grease and patience. “Perfect,” she said with satisfaction. “It’s the next building down. Let’s go.”
    It was a building that had seen better days, but it was reasonably clean and the door to the lobby was