Death of the Swami Schwartz (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

and picnic hampers were all set for a long Saturday at the beach. Surfers flirted with pretty girls while waiting to ride a wave. Had she ever been so tanned, so toned, or so young? With her milky-white skin, her teenage preference for Steinbeck over sports, and her “having been born old”—according to Marlene—Kate decided: No. Never.
    Glad to see people milling about on the pier, Kate waved to Herb Wagner, the proprietor of the Neptune Inn as he set up tables for lunch on the restaurant’s screened-in porch. Three months ago, he and all the other store owners on the pier had been ready to close, but now with Palmetto Beach’s new council’s support, their businesses were thriving. That happy thought brought a smile to Kate’s face.
    Taking a left off the beach at Neptune Boulevard, Kate cleaned up after Ballou, who never did his business in the sand, then deposited the plastic baggie into the large trash can by the public parking lot. Marlene also claimed Kate had been born obsessive-compulsive. Kate thought of herself as neat: A trait her former sister-in-law had never related to.
    Lots of cars and bikes were here today. The Palmetto Beach Library at the far north end of the parking area had a steady stream of young and old passing through its doors. That, too, made Kate smile. She had much more in common with readers than surfers.
    “Come on, Ballou, let’s do a little snooping.” She felt a stir of excitement as they walked west toward Mancini’s.
    Yellow crime-scene tape in front of the restaurant stopped her in her tracks. What had she expected? Danny Mancini to greet her with a cappuccino and a clue to the killer?
    “I guess we can go home now, Dr. Watson.” Ballou was pulling her in the direction of the drawbridge, where many more SUVs and convertibles were heading in their direction, then off-island.
    The door to Mancini’s flew open and Tiffani Cruz, followed by a young policeman carrying a ledger and a box of files, came out. The cop nodded at Kate, thanked Tiffani, then walked over to a police car parked a couple of feet away from the restaurant. Some detective. Despite the siren on its roof, Kate hadn’t even spotted the blue and white car.
    “Mrs. Kennedy, can I talk to you?”
    Kate turned away from the young cop, wondering what evidence might be in those files, and saw that Tiffani’s eyes were filled with tears.
    “Yes, dear.” Kate patted Tiffani’s hand, noticing the nails were bitten to the quick. Last night, Kate remembered, they’d been blood-red and long enough to stir a drink. Fake, of course. Still she’d never seen Tiffani without them. And the girl wasn’t wearing any makeup. Something must be very wrong.
    Tiffani yanked her yellow t-shirt down over her belly button in what might be a gesture of respect. Kate’s older granddaughter, Lauren, the Harvard pre-law fan of Dr. Phil, always showed some skin between her tops and her bottoms. But her younger sister, Katharine, Kate’s namesake and, though she shouldn’t admit it, her favorite, kept her stomach covered.
    Ballou sniffed at Tiffani’s sneakers, then jumped up to sniff and lick her hand—a sure sign of approval.
    “I’m so scared, Mrs. Kennedy. I think I’m in big trouble.”
    Knowing she was being sucked in, Kate wait for the bait After all, the girl was younger than Lauren. “What can I do to help?”

Nine

      
    When the rush of incoming traffic stopped for a red light, Kate led Tiffani across Neptune Boulevard to Dinah’s, a Palmetto Beach tradition that was as close to a New York City coffee shop as any restaurant Kate had found in South Florida. And one of the only places where she could take Ballou.
    Located in the small shopping mall that also housed a bookstore, a drugstore, and a bathing suit shop, Dinah’s smelled of freshly baked cornbread and strong coffee.
    Kate ordered both. Tiffani only wanted coffee and conversation.
    On his best behavior, Ballou lay quietly under the table.
    “That