A Motive For Murder Part 20

"That's my bet," Auntie Lil agreed. She checked the floor of the locker a final time but found nothing more of interest. Carefully shutting the door, she replaced the lock. It hung open crookedly. "She'll know someone has been in her locker anyway when she sees the date book is missing," Auntie Lil decided. "It may be better to spook her and see what she does next."

After removing the scarf from the window, they silently inched their way back toward the first-floor steps. When they reached the stairwell, they caught the tail end of an echo. The sound was elusive. A scrambling? Rats? Someone sliding past below? Auntie Lil touched Herbert's arm lightly, not daring to speak. He patted her hand rea.s.suringly. They waited in the darkness, straining to hear more. The night was silent. Slowly they began to move down the steps, making it to the first floor without incident. Raoul Martinez kept a cluttered office toward the back of the building, near the rear exit doors. Auntie Lil was prepared to slip the lock with her Macy's credit card. Indeed, she used it more to gain illegal entry than she did to charge purchases. But to her surprise, the office door opened easily. She hurried inside with Herbert right behind her. They shut the solid wooden door behind them and Herbert flicked on the penlight.

Lisette Martinez stood crouched over an open drawer of her husband's desk, a sheaf of papers in one hand.

"What are you doing here?" she and Auntie Lil asked simultaneously.

Before anyone could react, the door of the office flew open and the overhead lights blazed on. Auntie Lil s.h.i.+elded her eyes. In the seconds that it took for her vision to clear she realized that they were trapped: Raoul Martinez blocked the doorway and he held a heavy cane in one hand-a prop from The Nutcracker.

"Raoul!" Lisette cried, dropping the papers.

"What are you doing in here?" Martinez asked his wife. "You said you were going home to bed early."

"What are you doing here?" she asked him back, the color draining from her face.

Herbert Wong did not hesitate. He took advantage of their inattention to dart past Martinez, knocking the cane away with one hand while grabbing the bigger man's s.h.i.+rt collar with the other. He shoved a surprised Martinez against the door and sent him sprawling. "Run!" he shouted to Auntie Lil.

Auntie Lil sprinted from the room, the ache in her legs forgotten. She barreled toward the outer exit doors, flinging her weight against them. The doors were illegally locked from the inside. She whirled around and saw that the nearest side door was blocked by a recovered Martinez. The artistic director had leaped back to his feet and was struggling with Herbert for the cane. Lisette stood in the background as if frozen by fear, watching her husband tussle.

"Go, Lillian!" Herbert shouted, aiming a kick and catching Martinez solidly on a s.h.i.+n.

Auntie Lil began to run through the darkness of the backstage area, cras.h.i.+ng into scenery and props as she did so. Scrims fell to the floor with a crash and props tumbled from tables. Her progress was easily marked by the tremendous din that followed her. She could hear Martinez moving after her and began to fling objects out of her way, clearing a path toward stage right, pus.h.i.+ng heavy curtains away from her face, and for one terrifying moment, becoming lost in a series of overlapping side curtains before finding her way free again. She reached stage right and hesitated. How could she leave Herbert alone with Martinez? She turned to go back and discovered her friend right behind her.

"Go, Lillian!" Herbert shouted again. "The side door. Try the side door up ahead." But as they scurried toward the door, they heard the heavy thud of Martinez cutting across the stage to block their exit. Auntie Lil stopped uncertainly, her hands reaching out in the darkness. She touched the metal of a permanent ladder embedded into the backstage brick walls. It probably led to an upper floor. Perhaps she could find a place to hide, a telephone, or a way out from there.

"Come on," she whispered to Herbert, pulling herself onto the bottom rung. With Herbert pus.h.i.+ng her from beneath, she climbed steadily upward, breathing hard, her shoulders aching from the effort. The ladder jiggled beneath her and she felt dizzy. She stopped to catch her breath.

"He's following us!" Herbert whispered frantically. "I can feel his weight on the rungs beneath us!"

Suddenly the backstage lights blazed on, illuminating the brick wall and scattered scenery with a blinding glare.

"Leave them alone!" Lisette Martinez screamed at her husband. The back curtains of the stage opened with a jerk, creating a gap of several yards. The ballerina dashed into view from stage left, breathing hard. Her husband was only a dozen rungs up the ladder. She jumped in the air, grabbing at his legs as if to stop him. He climbed up out of her reach then paused to stare down at his wife.

"Let them alone!" Lisette shouted again. "Enough people have been hurt. Leave it, Raoul. It's time to let it go." She stepped back and looked up at Auntie Lil.

"I did it!" she shouted. "Is that what you want to hear? I killed him. I killed him because he left me and no one leaves me. He left me for someone younger. Just like him." She pointed a finger at her husband and he stared back at her, his face crumpling in despair.

"No," he yelled. His deep voice reverberated across the empty stage and rolled up into the rafters. "It won't work, Lisette. We must tell them the truth." He leaned back and dangled from the ladder so he could see Herbert and Auntie Lil better. "I did it," he said. "I killed him because he was flaunting his affair with my wife. No one does that to Raoul Martinez."

"He's lying," Lisette shouted. "I'm the one. He's only saying that to protect me."

"No, it won't work," Raoul yelled at his wife. "They know you haven't the strength."

"I have the strength," Lisette screamed back, and as if to prove it, leaped onto the bottom rung and climbed up to her husband. She grabbed one of his legs and attempted to pull him from the ladder. "Let it go, Raoul," she ordered. "I'm going to the police right now and turn myself in."

Auntie Lil stared at the battling couple in confusion. She had spent weeks trying to track down a killer and now these two were arguing for the right to claim the t.i.tle. "What should we do now?" she asked Herbert.

Herbert glanced down at Raoul Martinez. He was only a few yards below but was making no move to climb higher. Instead he had grabbed his wife's hand and was staring into her eyes, murmuring her name over and over as if it were a spell he could cast upon her. "Lisette, Lisette, Lisette," he murmured. "You must not do this, my darling Lisette."

"Which one of them did it?" Auntie Lil asked loudly.

"I don't think either one of them did," Herbert replied.

Raoul and Lisette Martinez sat in the front row of the Metropolitan Ballet's magnificent theater separated from each other by three red velvet seats. They stared at one another in incomprehension, their faces reflecting a combination of joy and relief. Auntie Lil and Herbert waited cautiously a few feet away, watching the strange scene unfolding before them.

"You didn't do it after all, did you?" Raoul asked his wife. His eyes filled with tears of happiness.

Lisette shook her head. "I thought you had done it," she said softly. "I thought they would take you away from me forever. I knew that you had found out about us..." Her voice trailed off.

"How could I ever have thought you could do such a thing, my precious angel," her husband replied. He moved to the seat next to her and encircled her with his arms. "I didn't blame you for seeing that man, you know. I have flaunted my affairs. I knew when you were... doing the same."

"Oh, Raoul," Lisette said, turning her face to the side so her expression was hidden from all but her husband. "None of them meant anything to me, you must know that."

"My beautiful ballerina, I do know," he replied. The couple began to kiss, their bodies melding together until they sat in the same seat.

Auntie Lil cleared her throat loudly. When that did not work, she coughed as if she were in imminent danger of dying from tuberculosis. Not only was she annoyed at their mutual stupidity, she was feeling queasy at this display of dramatic affection. And she was determined to wring whatever information she could from the situation.

"Now you two listen to me," she finally announced firmly, marching over and planting herself beside them until they were forced to turn their attention to her. "You are both grossly guilty of obstructing justice, and thanks to you two, a killer has gone free for far longer than he should."

They stared at her as if she were speaking Swahili.

"You owe me," Auntie Lil told them. "If you tell me what I need to know, then I promise I will walk away from this nonsense, never breathe a word of it to the board, and leave the two of you to find your way through your most peculiar marriage all on your own."

Martinez looked as if he might put up a fight, so Auntie Lil continued. "Don't tempt me," she warned them. "The board would be most interested to learn of your extracurricular behavior if, as I suspect, your hobbies happen to involve students at the Metro School."

"They were all of age!" Martinez protested.

"No matter. It's tacky at the very least." Auntie Lil s.h.i.+fted her gaze to Lisette. "Why did Bobby Morgan dump you?" she said. "I'm sorry to be so blunt, but that is exactly what happened, isn't it? He came back to New York and insisted his son be in The Nutcracker just to be near you, didn't he? But then he grew bored."

The ballerina nodded slowly. "He was a pig."

"Nonetheless, why did this pig dump you?" Auntie Lil asked firmly.

"He began seeing someone else, someone younger. I'm sure of it."

"Who?" Auntie Lil demanded.

"I don't know," Lisette shouted, her anger real. The fire in her eyes told Auntie Lil that she was telling the truth. Lisette did not know who her rival had been and her lack of knowledge rankled.

"Then why do you think it was someone younger?" Auntie Lil asked.

"Something he said to me," she said bitterly. "I will not repeat it here."

"You have no idea who it was?" Auntie Lil said.

Lisette shook her head. "I a.s.sumed it was one of the other dancers. He was always surrounded by them."

"Do you know who it was?" Auntie Lil asked Martinez. "Since you seem so well-informed about the dancers."

Martinez. shook his head. "I watched him closely when I knew he was seeing my wife," Martinez admitted. "But I didn't care about him once I knew they had broken up."

"How did you know they had broken up?" Auntie Lil asked.

"My wife's behavior. She was desolate. So angry at me for every little thing. Tearing me apart for such small transgressions. That is how she always acts when her affairs fizzle." He made a hissing sound like a firecracker being dipped in water.

"Small transgressions?" Lisette cried, moving away from her husband. She perched two seats away and glared. "I suppose you consider your four affairs in six months small transgressions?" she asked. "I suppose you think it's perfectly acceptable for me to have to take a mental audit every time I enter a cla.s.s. 'Who in this room has slept with my husband? You? You? What about you?' How dare you dismiss your despicable behavior as acceptable? You do not deserve to be married to me."

Raoul began to protest.

Auntie Lil and Herbert exchanged a glance. Herbert nodded and the two of them marched up the short set of stairs at stage right without bothering to look back. As they pushed through the side exit door and breathed in the fresh night air, they could still hear the couple battling, their pa.s.sionate shouts echoing in the emptiness of the magnificent auditorium.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Auntie Lil woke out of a sleep so deep it was like swimming up from the depths of a heavy sea. Her dreams had been ominous and exhausting: she was being chased by small creatures dressed in black cloaks and forced to climb ladder after ladder to flee them. The pursuit felt so real that she woke grateful for the respite that awakening offered. She rose and touched her toes in front of the mirror. At least the ache in her shoulders had subsided somewhat. She had slept for over ten hours and her body had welcomed the rest.

As she brewed her morning pot of coffee Auntie Lil reflected on the events of the night before. She had followed a trail, but when it ended, she felt little closer to a solution than when she began. Neither of the Martinezes was guilty, she was sure. Worse, they had no idea who was. She could try to find out who had usurped Lisette Martinez in Bobby Morgan's affections, but that, too, could prove to be a fruitless path. The possibilities were limited only by the size of the Metro's corps and school. His new lover could have been one of over sixty girls. Perhaps it was better to pursue another direction. She could try to identify the man that Mikey Morgan claimed to have seen backstage replacing Drosselmeyer's cloak. He had been a man of average height with dark hair. That could be several people, even with Raoul Martinez ruled out. Jerry Vanderbilt, Gene Levitt-he was the most likely prospect-or he and Jerry could be in it together. But something about the description Mikey gave just didn't make sense.

She took her second cup of coffee to a window and stared out at the street below. Mikey said the man replacing the cloak had been of average height, but then he had claimed that the man following him was tall. Either there were two people involved or Mikey was mistaken. But hadn't Reverend Hampton said it was a tall man running down the path behind the Metro just a few minutes after Morgan's body swung across the stage? She felt more comfortable with Hampton's a.s.sessment. He was an adult and both shrewd and observant. Perhaps she should call the Reverend and ask him again just to be sure.

The phone line was dead. She remembered disconnecting it the night before so she could sleep late without interruption. No wonder no one had rung her up yet. She reconnected the jack and dialed Reverend Hampton's home. As usual a polite voice answered and, when she gave her name and said it was an emergency, the man on the other end promised to track down the Reverend as soon as possible. No more than four sips of coffee later, Ben Hampton called back.

"You aren't going to yell at me about the seat-on-the-board comment, are you?" he thundered into the phone in lieu of saying h.e.l.lo. "It's just politics, you know. Although, for the record, I wouldn't turn a seat down."

"Any other time I'd have to differ with your handling of the situation," Auntie Lil said. "But I've got far more important things on my mind."

"So have I," the Reverend replied. "Have you seen my latest opinion polls?"

"I've been too busy," Auntie Lil admitted.

"My support among whites has shot up thirty percent and I've gained more than a dozen points on my opponent. I owe you my thanks."

"Don't thank me," Auntie Lil said. "I only suggested a few surface modifications. You're the genuine article."

"Did you read my Twenty-Point Plan Against Crime yet?" he asked. "It was in Margo McGregor's column a few days ago."

"No," she admitted. "Was there anything new in it? Many have tried before you."

"Sure," he said with a chuckle. "I suggested we make you police commissioner." His laugh made her smile. "I have a meeting with the mayor in fifteen minutes to discuss the plan, in fact. You said it was an emergency?"

Auntie Lil asked him to again describe the man he had seen running down the path. He did so with immediate consistency: the man had been white, tall, and slender with an unknown color of hair. "He was a regular beanpole," Reverend Hampton added.

"You're positive?" Auntie Lil asked.

"More positive every time I tell it," he said. "Though the police still don't believe my story."

"Could a child have thought he was of average height?"

"I would think a child would be more likely to see him as even taller," the Reverend said. "Sorry I can't be more specific."

"You've been helpful enough as it is," Auntie Lil said. "Thank you."

"The same to you," Reverend Hampton answered. "You'll have to dance with me at my inauguration ball in eight years when I become the governor of this great state of New York."

She had no doubt he was serious. She rang off and wondered if Mikey Morgan was lying and, if so, about which man. Perhaps about both. Perhaps about neither. If only she could see inside that infernal child's head. He'd been playacting for so long that she wondered if he even knew how he really felt-or what he really saw-at this point.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. When she answered, the husky voice of Emili Vladimir greeted her. She sounded in a hurry. "I've been trying to call you all morning," the former ballerina said. "I was just trying one more time before I head downtown to my studio."

"I had the phone off the hook," Auntie Lil admitted. "What has happened? Why are you calling?"

"I must speak to you," Emili said. "Alone. Today. Immediately. Now, if possible. I will postpone my next appointment until the afternoon. Please, it is very important."

Auntie Lil was silent. "Why alone?"

"It is about my son," Emili explained. "I must talk to you as one mother to another."

"I'm not a mother," Auntie Lil pointed out.

"I must talk to you woman to woman, then. Please. You will not be in any danger," Emili promised, her voice thickening with a Russian accent as she grew more agitated. "I will meet you in a public place. You may choose."

"The dancers' lounge at the Metro," Auntie Lil said at once. Many people would be pa.s.sing by. "I will meet you in an hour."

"Come alone," Emili pleaded and abruptly hung up.

Auntie Lil had no choice but to meet with Emili alone. Herbert did not answer his phone and T.S. was no doubt lost to the waking world as he bathed in video stimulation with his temporary charge. Fortunately, it was the middle of the day and the Metro was a bustling center of activity. Cla.s.ses were being held in all of the rooms and the hallway was full of dancers, musicians, and support staff hurrying to their next destinations. The dancers' lounge was an oasis of calm amidst the frantic scurrying: no one would have time to relax for several hours and the room was deserted. Auntie Lil waited a few minutes for Emili to arrive, carefully situating herself at the end of the couch closest to the door. Her dash from Martinez the night before was still fresh in her memory. From now on, she'd keep a getaway in mind at all times.

Emili entered the lounge flushed and out of breath. She wore her dancing clothes under a leather jacket, which she immediately took off and threw on a nearby chair as if she were hot. "I must shut the door," she said, and did so without waiting for Auntie Lil to agree.

"What is it?" Auntie Lil asked, relaxing a bit after Emili sat on the far end of the couch.

"I know you don't trust me," Emili began. "I have talked to my friend Ruth and she tells me that you know all about that Lane woman's attempts to replace you on the board. You may think I am involved, but I am not."

"You are a friend of Ruth Beretsky's?" Auntie Lil asked skeptically.

"Yes. Why not?" Emili said. "She called me several months ago and asked if I needed help in setting up a foundation to support my ballet company." Emili tapped her heart with a fist. "She is a plain woman, perhaps, with little spark in her life. But she has fire in her heart for the dance. She has no talent herself, but she receives great joy from watching others dance and she is very much committed to seeing new art forms flourish. I admire that in her and I don't mind that she wears those silly bows and creeps around like a mouse."

"What did Ruth say she had told me?" Auntie Lil asked.

"The truth," Emili explained. "That Lane had called me about a seat on the board. I was very surprised at first. I knew she didn't like me. I have met her many times and always she pretends not to know who I am. But then she learns that I have founded my own company. She reads a review of my work in The New York Times and thinks, 'Aha! This woman will be famous again. I must collect her now.' I have met many people like her here in New York City. I am no fool. I know how those types of people are." Emili leaned forward, speaking earnestly. "She was the one who called me about a seat on the board. I did not know she meant your seat. I apologize. I would have refused. I have no real desire to be involved with the Metro. The ballets are so rigid, the style excessive and stuffy. That Martinez man does not understand the beauty of an isolated movement. He cannot grasp that ballet should be like poetry. The fewer the lines, the greater the impact." She sighed. "I tell you all of this only so you understand that I am telling you the truth here today. I have nothing to hide."

Auntie Lil did not know whether to believe her or not. But she also conceded that cultural differences could be at the root of her skepticism. "Go on," she told Emili.