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

sweatpants pocket. She certainly wasn’t dressed for detective work.
    The Westie, happy to be on an extra-long outing, pulled on his leash.
    “Is your car here?”
    “Yes, right over there.” Tiffani looked puzzled. “I live way west of here, Mrs. Kennedy. And I sure didn’t walk across the bridge this morning.”
    Good Lord. Had Kate become a Palmetto Beach provincial, assuming everyone she knew lived east of the Intracoastal?
    Tiffani was pointing across Neptune Boulevard to a faded blue Honda parked in front of the Let’s Just Curl Up and Dye hair salon, a few yards away from Mancini’s.
    Kate had tried and rejected the salon. The owner, a young woman with mange spiked hair, had trimmed Kate’s unruly mane, applied a seaweed mousse, then sent her home with silver spikes. Marlene, however, had been having her hair cut and colored there for years—though she traveled off-island to have her nails done.
    “Okay, Tiffani. Let’s drive for a bit with the air conditioner on, while you tell me why we need to stop at the Yoga Institute to show me something before you meet Detective Carbone at the police station.”
    Talk about need: The beat up Honda desperately needed a good wash. And its interior needed a good scrubbing, but first the clutter in the back needed to be thrown away. Moving an empty Wendy’s bag to the floor, Kate settled into the grimy front seat. Most offensive of all, the car smelled like onions. She rolled down the window.
    Tiffani drove south on A1A at a steady pace in the surprisingly light traffic heading toward Fort Lauderdale on this balmy Saturday morning during the height of tourist season.
    “So, like what do you want to know, Mrs. Kennedy?” Tiffani seemed defensive. Did she regret asking for Kate’s help?
    “I can only give you advice if I know what’s bothering you. You said you needed to show me something. What? If I accompany you to the police station, I expect you to tell me and Detective Carbone the truth.”
    Flashing the right turn signal, Tiffani headed for the bridge. A half-dozen cars were lined up in front of her, waiting to cross.
    “Okay. I’ll tell you. But Dallas Dalton delayed us and we have to get to the Yoga Institute before the cops show up with a search warrant. I heard Detective Carbone say a warrant could take a couple of hours.”
    Hoping not to show any reaction, Kate merely nodded. “There’s some stuff in the computer that’s going to make me look real bad. I swear to you, Mrs. Kennedy, I didn’t kill Swami. Why would I? I loved him.”
    Kate almost whispered her question. “And he didn’t love you back?”
    “No, he didn’t.” Tiffani sounded stunned. “I don’t get turned down often. I felt hurt and… I don’t know… embarrassed…angry. I’d been getting mixed signals from him. I sent him some pretty nasty emails after he’d rejected me. And some totally sappy ones before. Combined, they’ll add up to a motive for murder.”
    “Maybe not.” June Cleaver at her most reassuring. “Try not to worry.” She didn’t want Tiffani tampering with evidence. While the girl might be capable of erasing email, Kate didn’t think Tiffani could be capable of murder. Carbone must know that too.
    “Swami seemed to like me. A lot. Told me my yoga positions were poetry in motion. Then Mrs. Money Bags, Dallas Dalton, rode into town, offering to serve on the board, to endow the institute, and to fund Swami’s research, while crying on his shoulder about her dear, dead husband, Shane. Suddenly Swami became fascinated by a woman old enough to be his mother.”
    Was Dallas old enough to be Swami’s mother? Well, yes. He’d been in his mid-forties. Kate figured that, though well-preserved, Dallas had to be twenty years older than Swami. Of course, Kate could have been his mother too. And he could have been Tiffani’s father.
    Tiffani had said something else that intrigued Kate. “What sort of research had Dallas offered to fund?”
    The girl shrugged,