Read A Cat in the Wings: (InterMix) for Free Online

West Twenties. Nouvelle American, cum Southwestern, cum junk-bond traders was the way it had been described to me.
    We were sipping our Zinfandel and inhaling the appetizer that had just arrived at the table—tiny braised scallops, each one covered with a dot of green paste and placed oh so artfully on the plate in a miniature forest of herbs. It was breathtaking. It cost seventeen fifty.
    “Okay, Swede,” Tony said, fixing me with a smirk. “I got it all figured now. You swallowed your pride and finally took a part in a soap. And you just picked up the advance on your salary. Right? And realized at the same time that your recent coolness toward me is absurd. So now you’re trying to buy my affections. You’ve finally admitted you’re mad for my body—right? This is, plain and simple, a seduction dinner.”
    “Wrong on all counts, buddy,” I said, after I’d ingested one of the scallops, which was pleasingly hot. “I have been retained to investigate the murder of Peter Dobrynin.”
    He stared at me incredulously. “You mean that crazy—the dancer who was shot over the holidays?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why you?”
    “I was there at the ballet when it happened—Christmas Eve. And an old friend, Lucia Maury, is about to be charged with the murder. Unless I can turn up something to clear her.”
    “Lucia . . .” Tony turned the name over on his tongue. “I don’t know her, do I?”
    “You may have met her once at my apartment, years ago. When I was living on the West Side.”
    I then told him all that had transpired: finding the body . . . the search of Lucia’s apartment . . . the gun taped under her desk . . . my meeting with the lawyer Frank Brodsky.
    He finished the scallops one by one, fastidiously, as he listened.
    “And you want my help with the investigation?”
    “Yes, Tony, I do. I think you ought to take a rest from seducing those young actresses . . . for reasons of health.”
    He laughed and finished his wine. An emaciated young waiter started toward the table to refresh our glasses, but Tony waved him off and did the job himself.
    “I also thought,” I said, “you might be able to use half of my fee—twenty-five hundred dollars. Less, of course, what this silly meal is going to cost me.”
    He stared at me slyly. “Now, isn’t that odd, Swede? In fact, I
am
in a bit of a financial bind. The character who bought the copy shops from me seems to be going belly-up. That means the notes he gave me will probably turn out to be worth about ten cents on the dollar after the bankruptcy court finishes with him. And I’m two months behind on child support; my ex is threatening me with a long prison term. Plus, that Brecht production at the University of Texas at Austin, which has all kinds of grant money, is not going to use me. So twenty-five hundred for my body seems reasonable.”
    “Not your body, Tony, your brain.”
    “Six of one . . .” he let his voice trail off.
    We had delayed ordering our main courses. But now the time was at hand. Tony called for a spicy stew of wild rabbit. I ordered brook trout with dirty rice and peppers.
    We continued to drink while we waited for the food.
    “I’ve got to be honest, Swede. I’m not a big ballet fan.”
    “Irrelevant,” I assured him. “It’s a murder investigation, Tony. Not a culture quiz.”
    “It’s not that I dislike ballet, mind you. On the contrary. I love it.”
    “I think you’ve lost me, Tony. The logic of that escapes me.”
    “I’m not surprised, Watson. I’m a very subtle guy. Look—the last ballet I saw was about seven years ago. My wife had friends who used to take us. We saw Antony Tudor’s
Dark Elegies
. You ever catch it, Swede?”
    “No.”
    “Well, it was mesmerizing. I was totally overwhelmed. Literally the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And as I watched it, I realized I was seeing the absolute definition of beauty. The music. The steps. The scenery. The mix. And then, as I sat there