A Motive For Murder by Katy Munger Page B

Morgan to really give a crap about, to be perfectly
honest.” He stopped and stared at T.S. again. “Have we met before?”
he asked abruptly.
    “It’s possible,” T.S. said. “I understand you work on
Wall Street. I worked at Sterling & Sterling for twenty-seven
years. As personnel manager.”
    Perkins nodded. “I interviewed there once for a job.
Didn’t get it. Went on to Salomon. I was their top bond producer
for three years in a row. In the eighties. Made a pile of dough.
Who needed acting?”
    “Congratulations,” T.S. said dryly. “How are things
going in the bond world now that we’re in the nineties?” T.S. knew
full well that the bottom had dropped out of the bond market and
that everyone’s top producers were struggling these days.
    “I quit,” Perkins said. He ground out his cigarette
and lit another. “Time to move on.”
    The man sounded suddenly as if he did not have a care
in the world. T.S. was intrigued by his combination of arrogance
and defensiveness. The oddest references seemed to set him off.
Perhaps T.S. had turned Perkins down for the job and he still
harbored a grudge. T.S. could not remember for sure, but it was
possible. He had turned many people down over the years.
    Auntie Lil had been watching T.S. question Perkins
and her eyes glittered with a dangerous curiosity. She sensed the
undercurrents in the room and was intent on uncovering their
meaning. “What do you do now?” she asked Perkins. “Manage your
daughter’s career?”
    Perkins perched on the edge of the low-slung sofa.
“My daughter can manage her own career,” he said. “She’s sixteen
years old, going on thirty-five. I don’t know what I intend to do
next but I am sure I will think of something.”
    Better make it quick, T.S. thought,
calculating the probable mortgage and maintenance charges on such
an opulent apart–ment, not to mention the tuition for Perkins’s
daughter at the Metropolitan and all the expenses that went along
with a professional dancing career.
    “Your daughter lives with you?” Auntie Lil asked.
    “Yes. Why do you ask?”
    Auntie Lil shrugged. “I was just thinking of how
fortunate she is to have such a nice apartment so close to the
school. Many of the other children aren’t so lucky. They live at
the YMCA or as boarders with other families.”
    “And many of the other children aren’t so fortunate
as to be given a role they don’t deserve,” Perkins added
suddenly.
    “I didn’t say that,” Auntie Lil said. “I saw her as
Clara the night of Morgan’s death. She did a very capable job.”
    “My daughter was not ready to dance that role,”
Perkins said. “I was against it. It’s too soon. She needs time to
develop, time to gain enough confidence in her technique to expand
her interpretation. She may have the body of a young woman, but she
is still a child in many ways. She needs seasoning. Didn’t you see
the reviews? They will harm her career.”
    “Then why did you allow it?” Auntie Lil asked.
    Perkins laughed. “Allow it? You obviously have not
yet met my daughter. My opinion is of no consequence to her.”
    “What does her mother think about it?” Auntie Lil
asked.
    Perkins inhaled deeply and blew a long stream of
smoke from his mouth, his eyes narrowing. “I wouldn’t know. Neither
would Julie. We haven’t seen her in several years. Not since she
packed up and left when Julie was up in Sarasota with the company
one summer. To be frank, it was no great loss.”
    “That must have been hard on Julie,” Auntie Lil
remarked.
    “Nothing is hard on Julie,” Perkins said. “Unless
it’s about dance. That’s all that matters to her.”
    “Then she, at least, must have been delighted to have
performed the lead,” Auntie Lil said.
    “I’m sure she was.” He stood up with a sudden jerk.
“What more do you want to know? I don’t really see how I can be of
help. Whoever killed Bobby Morgan probably had a good reason to do
it. He was that kind of a