To Kill a Matzo Ball (A Deadly Deli Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

that be a welcome gesture or in poor taste? I would have to find out.
    “Was he married?” I asked.
    “Yes, with a young daughter,” the detective told me. “We have someone with them now.”
    “Those poor people.”
    “What about other impressions?” she asked. “Did he seem relaxed, attentive?”
    “He sampled the food, wanted to be sure the menu would please his students and their guests, and—”
    “What?” she asked as I hesitated.
    I was replaying the moment in my head. Then it hit me. “No, he wasn’t looking at the matzo ball. I thought he was, but he was looking just past it. At the napkin holder?”
    The detective scrolled backward on the tablet, which was auto-transcribing what I told her. “You said he was looking at the matzo ball. Now you think it was the napkin holder?”
    “I don’t know. It didn’t seem like he was seeing something, actually, but thinking something. I just don’t know.”
    Still reading from the iPad, she said, “But you still say you had time to turn and look out the window. ‘Like Governor Connelly in the Zapruder film,’ you put it.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Could he have seen something or someone reflected in the napkin holder? Something or someone he thought he recognized? A vehicle, a person, a weapon?”
    “It’s possible. He just froze there with a matzo ball on the end of a shrimp fork.”
    “And you’re certain he didn’t turn to the window?”
    “Positive.”
    “Do you think he was afraid someone would recognize him?”
    I thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Why would he be afraid of that? We were sitting right in the open. He didn’t sneak in.”
    “Just pursuing angles,” the detective said. “Ms. Katz, this is a tough question, and I’m asking you to speculate. Impressions are important. Are you sure he pushed you, or could he have just struck you while he was getting out of the way?”
    “He pushed me. That was my very, very strong feeling at that moment. Why does it matter?”
    “Because it could be the difference between diving for cover in an unexpected situation or knowing he was out of time and wanting to avoid collateral damage. That will help me to sharpen the questions I ask Mrs. Chan, spare her a longer interview.”
    I nodded.
    “Are you still as sure as you can be that he pushed you?”
    “I am very, very, very sure. That arm came at my chest, level and precise. I’ve probably got a bruise. Mr. Chan could have shoved me to one side. But that would have exposed me to the track some of the bullets ended up going as the gun passed by outside. No, he got me totally out of the line of fire and then grabbed onto me to keep me there. He saved the life of someone he didn’t even know.”
    Detective Bean smiled. “Thank you. That’s helpful. One more question, and I need you to be really candid with me here. You can even be creative.”
    “Murder arts and crafts?” My mouth was moving, that was all.
    Bean ignored the comment. “Is there anyone, Ms. Katz, who might have a grudge against you? Say, a customer you might have argued with today or last week? An angry former employee? A jealous significant other? I understand you inherited this place—were there other family members who might have wanted it?”
    The question surprised me, along with the exceptionally wide reach of her net. I felt oddly naked and a little violated.
    “Are you asking my staff the same question?”
    “I’m doing a thorough homicide investigation,” she replied. “Is there anyone we should talk to?”
    She was clearly going to be a linebacker on this matter, so I ran through my mental yearbook. Was there anyone voted Most Likely to Kill Gwen—other than the people who had already tried in the course of my short but storied career as a private eye, a regular Jessica Fleyshik? I gave her a few names, adding that Grant already knew about them. She said she’d check them anyway. But I assured her they were nothing.
    “Why?” she