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

pulling her visor down. The sun’s rays felt more like July than February. The early morning’s cool breeze had long vanished. The Honda’s air conditioner, obviously as beat up as the car, emitted stale tepid air.
    “You got me. Something important, maybe something medical.” Tiffani shook her head, her ponytail swinging from left to right. “Magnolia McFee had recently changed her will, leaving the bulk of her estate to Swami Schwartz for a research project that he was way sold on.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “I didn’t want to say anything because I really like Magnolia and she adores her useless grandson, but I overheard a screaming match between Swami and that snobby jerk. Laurence kept shouting that he’d see Swami in hell before his family’s money ended up supporting some science fiction project.”
    A woman scorned? A woman in fear of being arrested, attributing a motive for murder to another?
    As if reading Kate’s mind—or, more likely, her expression—Tiffani said, “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Dr. Patel. Sanjay heard them fighting too. He told me later that Laurence McFee is an angry young man.”
    Switching gears, Kate said, “Will the Yoga Institute be open this morning?”
    “Dr. Patel called me at seven. He was going over there to call all the students and cancel today’s classes. Out of respect, you know.”
    Yes, Kate thought. Or maybe Sanjay Patel had decided it wouldn’t be good for business if the police arrived with a search warrant while the fully packed Saturday classes were in session.
    “And Dr. Gallagher’s holding a press conference this afternoon to announce that Dr. Patel will be the new director of the Yoga Institute.”
    Kate wondered if Jack Gallagher’s press conference would be scheduled before or after he performed Swami Schwartz’s autopsy.

Twelve

      
    Were her fingertips turning blue? Could she have frostbite already? Marlene hopped from one foot to the other trying to stay warm. When exposed to extremely cold conditions, a person is supposed to keep moving, right? She could picture her obituary headline: “Woman Freezes to Death in South Florida.”
    What earthly purpose did this oversized refrigerator serve? How many bloody fur coats could Dallas Dalton own? She banged on the door. Futile. Way too thick. No one could hear her. Surely one of the workmen or Mary Frances would notice she’d gone missing. But what if they just assumed she’d left? The place was so damn big, they might easily believe that.
    Why had Ocean Vista’s board agreed to let Dallas Dalton gobble up so many units and then allow her to do this hellish renovation? Greed. With Dallas’s dough, the board planned on building an indoor garage and remodeling and enlarging the swimming pool.
    As condo president, Marlene held herself responsible. Why hadn’t she vetoed the motion? Cold guilt blanketed her soul. Would this ice box be her coffin? Even though no one could hear, she screamed.
    After her second shriek, the door opened.
    “Poor directions, Mrs. Friedman?” The head engineer seemed testy.
    “Did you hear me scream?” She couldn’t stop shaking. Would she ever be warm again?
    “No, ma’am. Nothing can be heard from inside the freezer, its walls are completely soundproof.”
    “Then how—”
    “Your friend, Miss Costello, returned to the foyer alone. I reckoned y’all might have wandered off base.” Though he smile d as he held the door open for her, Marlene heard the reproach in his soft southern drawl. Well, hell, she hadn’t done anything wrong.
    “Are you accusing me of spying, Mr. Jones?” She could be pretty testy herself.
    “Why would you even entertain such a wild idea, ma’am?” Jeff Jones certainly sounded sincere. “I’m just real grateful you’re drawing out.”
    Trailing behind him, she said. “You know damn well that refrigerator is dangerous. Dallas Dalton’s asking for trouble. What will she be storing in there?” Marlene wondered