A Motive For Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

Lilah pointed out. “Their parents
did.”
    Someone had paid, that was for sure. Beyond the first
twenty center rows—which were largely occupied by Metro patrons and
their guests—the opulent auditorium was a sea of raging female
hormones. Girls whispered, squealed, wiggled, and elbowed each
other as they waited in breathless anticipation for the emergence
of Mikey Morgan. Chewing gum popped anony–mously all around them in
a maddeningly uneven rhythm. T.S. felt like he was trapped in a
giant bag of popping corn.
    “That had better stop immediately,” Auntie Lil said
grimly. “Or I shall have to insist on an announcement.” She began
looking around for a microphone—Auntie Lil said very few things in
jest—but when she noticed Lane Rogers at the far right edge of the
main curtain, peering out from backstage, she sank lower in her
seat and took a great interest in the hem of one of her trouser
legs instead.
    T.S. sat stunned by the difference between the world
churning outside the theater and the world percolating inside it.
The well-dressed, pampered preteen crowd seemed oblivious to issues
of race, talent, or culture. They, instead, had focused to the
point of hysteria on one single burning goal: to catch a glimpse in
the flesh of someone they recognized from the silver screen, to be
able to say that they had seen Mikey Morgan in person. T.S. wasn’t
sure what it all meant for the future of the world, but he knew
clearly what it meant to him: despite the presence of Lilah, he
really should have followed his better instincts and just stayed
home in bed.
    “I wonder what Martinez has in store for us tonight?”
Lilah said to T.S., referring to the Metro’s temperamental artistic
director.
    This was a very good question. The Nutcracker had as many interpretations as it had productions. In an effort to
attract an audience and captivate new generations, ballet companies
all over the world had put their own spin on the rather macabre
Christmas story of a young girl gifted with a wooden nutcracker and
her subsequent dreams of toy soldiers, a Mouse King and his troops,
the Sugar Plum Fairy, and other exotic creatures. Versions ranged
from the classical, featuring rich turn-of-the-century costumes, to
the romantic, with long flowing gowns and nearly lawless
improvisations. The world of modern dance had even weighed in with
one particularly memorable version by Mark Morris called Hard
Nut, which featured a sixties-era American setting, complete
with stoned party guests, undertones of adultery, and a stage full
of bell-bottomed dancers doing the bump. How Martinez intended to
top these versions and draw an audience in the creative and
fiercely competitive New York City area remained to be seen.
    “I think his ‘vision,’ as he calls it, is going to be
along the lines of ‘more is more,’” Auntie Lil confided. “I was
able to sneak into one rehearsal and they were practicing the
toy-soldiers-versus-the-mice battle scene. There were enough
dancing rodents on stage to make me queasy. It was an infestation
more than anything else.”
    Flooding the stage with dancers was not, at first
glance, a bad move on the artistic director’s part. The more
students he could use from the Metro’s ballet school, the more
tickets he could sell to proud relatives. And perhaps even score
some points for pageantry along the way.
    Or perhaps not.
    As the curtain rose on the main set it was obvious
that Auntie Lil had been right. Martinez was going for quantity
over quality. He chose to begin the ballet with a meaningless
preface staged on the proscenium in front of a painted backdrop
depicting the stately home where the central story would unfold.
Buckets of snow fell from the rafters above, wafting over the
orchestra and causing the French horn player to look up in alarm.
T.S. expected Nanook of the North to come pirouetting by at any
second accompanied by a team of prancing huskies. Instead, a troop
of children emerged out of this