Partners In Crime Read Online Free PDF Page B

That kind of thing."
    "I know the procedures they follow to
allocate profits among partners," he answered. "But the actual
shares—no one knows that but the partners themselves. And, I
assume, the IRS."
    The lieutenant considered this. "I can do
without actual amounts for now. Just the procedures will do. Feel
free to throw in your impressions of the parties involved."
    It was T.S.'s turn to stare at the
lieutenant with a cross between contempt and amusement. "On the
record?" he asked incredulously.
    "Some on. Some off. I can be discreet."
    T.S. was appalled to realize he'd been
winked at yet again. "It's a complicated situation," he began.
    "I've unraveled some pretty complicated
situations in my time," the lieutenant interrupted with a tight
smile. "Try me."
    "They hold a meeting once a year to hash out
which partner gets what percentage of overall profits. It's tied
pretty closely to the performance of each partner's area of
business."
    The lieutenant seemed genuinely interested.
"That sounds pretty simple to me."
    T.S. shrugged. "Maybe. But if you're
suggesting that money had anything to do with this, I can assure
you that you are very much mistaken."
    "Why is that?" The lieutenant took a step
forward and breathed into his face. The smell of a garlic and onion
bagel, tinged with coffee, wafted past. But not far enough.
    T.S. could not retreat further back without
crashing into the fireplace screen, so he stood his ground as
firmly as was possible under the circumstances. This resulted in
his bending over backwards while the lieutenant leaned over him
like a sergeant preparing to chew out a boot camp inductee.
    "Money would be the last thing a Sterling
& Sterling partner would get murdered for," T.S. tried to
explain.
    "Oh, I think you'd be surprised. It's nearly
always money. Or love. Or love of money." The lieutenant laughed at
his own joke. T.S. merely waited. "But this guy looks a little old
for love, if you ask me." Abromowitz gazed at T.S. with a scrutiny
that seemed better suited to a suspect. Perhaps it's the only
expression in his repertoire that approached thoughtfulness, T.S.
decided charitably.
    "Maybe," T.S. conceded. "I'd certainly be
surprised at either motive."
    "Why's that?" he demanded, blasting T.S.
with another burst of bagel breath.
    "Sterling partners all have more money than
they could possibly ever need and would consider it the height of
gaucheness to bring up the subject of their earnings in a
conversation, much less question the decision of the other partners
once a consensus had been reached. Nor, in my opinion, would any of
them murder on its behalf."
    "Hmmph," was all he got in reply to his
eloquent theory, a frequent reaction among strangers unused to
T.S.'s sometimes formal way of speaking. It was a trait T.S. was
uncomfortably aware of, but powerless to change. His articulate
stiffness was the legacy of a most demanding schoolteacher
mother.
    A voice from behind the screen interrupted
their chat. "Hey, Manny!" a female voice called out. "Want one more
look before we wrap things up here?" Another unseen voice laughed
mirthlessly at this unintended pun and a look of irritation crossed
the lieutenant's face.
    "Yeah. Hold up. I'll be right there." He
stared into T.S. 's face for a moment, then wagged his pen at him
for emphasis. "I want to talk to you some more. Don't go anywhere."
He eyed T.S. as if he were about to bolt the room.
    "Maybe."
    "Maybe? What's maybe? Wait here until I get
back."
    T.S. had made up his mind. "I'd like to see
the body."
    "Oh you would, would you? Not quite the
well-bred gentleman you seem?" A distinct note of scorn crept into
the lieutenant's voice.
    "I talked to the young woman whose mother
discovered the body," T.S. replied calmly. "Something she said
stuck in my mind and I can't figure out what. I thought taking a
look would stimulate my memory."
    "Oh, well, in that case," the lieutenant
made an exaggerated bow and swept his hand forward. "Be my guest.
In fact,