A Motive For Murder by Katy Munger Page A

a no-smoking home. All together, T.S. approved.
    “I have been asked by the board to look into the
matter of Bobby Morgan’s death,” Auntie Lil explained.
    “Why?” Perkins demanded, pacing in front of the
window and reaching for his shirt pocket, before stopping abruptly.
T.S. knew at once that the absence of ashtrays was probably part of
the man’s desperate attempts to stop smoking. “Can’t the police do
a good enough job on their own?”
    Auntie Lil let a moment of silence pass. Just because
she had barged in unannounced was no reason to be curt. “I am sure
the police are making plenty of progress,” she said.
    “Are they?” Perkins interrupted abruptly. “What have
they found out?”
    “I don’t know,” Auntie Lil admitted, exasperated.
“It’s just that the board felt we should make an extra effort to
demonstrate our determination to get to the bottom of this
unfortunate occurrence. So they elected me.”
    Perkins stopped pacing and stared at Auntie Lil. “In
other words, they realize how much bad publicity they’ve gotten
over the past few months and they want to cut their losses?”
    “Well, yes,” T.S. interrupted. “I might summarize the
situation that way myself.” Auntie Lil glared at him, but T.S.
ignored her. He was starting to enjoy himself. He was used to
dealing with men like Perkins from his old Wall Street days,
impatient men who felt their business alone took priority. They
could not fathom why anyone else should think that what they had to
do could possibly be as important.
    “Do you have an objection to the board attempting to
find out the truth?” T.S. asked Perkins calmly. T.S. had learned
that rephrasing a person’s comments into a challenging question was
a good way to put them on the defensive.
    Perkins scrutinized T.S. and patted down his pockets
absently. “Of course I don’t have an objection. Why would I?”
    T.S. shrugged. “Then you wouldn’t mind answering a
few questions from my aunt here?”
    “Fire away,” Perkins agreed. Then, as if obeying his
own command, he walked over to a black enamel sideboard and opened
a small bottom drawer. Reaching to the very back of the
compartment, he produced a pack of cigarettes and quickly lit one
up, tapping the ashes into the base of a potted ficus tree nearby.
T.S. wondered how many hours he had managed to go without the
nicotine.
    “You are the Andrew Perkins who costarred with Morgan
in Mike and Me, aren’t you?” Auntie Lil asked.
    Perkins shrugged again. “So what? It’s no secret. He
came up to me in front of three dozen people and made a big deal
about seeing me again. Everyone knew we had acted together as kids.
If you’re suggesting I killed him out of jealousy because he got
the lead in Mike and Me twenty-five years ago and I didn’t,
you couldn’t be more wrong. I enjoyed every bit as much success as
him. I got just as much fan mail and, when it was all over, just as
many offers for more work: zero, zippo, absolutely nothing.”
    “Were you surprised to see him again?” Auntie Lil
asked, ignoring his outburst. “You had nothing to do with his
returning to New York and offering his son for the role?”
    Perkins shook his head vehemently. “I didn’t invite
him, if that’s what you mean. I’d just as soon he’d stayed in L.A.”
He walked over to the window and stared out. A tugboat was moving
up the Hudson far below and he watched its slow progress
intently.
    “My aunt asked if you had anything to do with his
returning to New York,” T.S. pointed out. “Not whether you invited
him.”
    Perkins stared at T.S. “Bobby may have come back to
the Metro just to piss me off,” he finally said. “If that’s what
you’re getting at. He was like that. Might have wanted to rub my
face in how well his kid was doing, compared to mine. Bobby always
had to win more than anyone else. But I doubt that’s why he showed
up on the Metro’s doorstep. I doubt I’m important enough for the
great Bobby