Death is a Bargain (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 3) by Noreen Wald

both men, we need to know why. Revenge? To collect on Whitey’s insurance? He hadn’t been paying child support? To cover up her animal abuse? To prevent Whitey from forwarding those photographs to the Humane Society? And what about that cut-up negative in her wastebasket?” Kate sighed, then rattled on. “Did she kill Carl because he knew she’d visited Whitey on Sunday night? Or were Whitey and Carl murdered—as Mary Frances suggests—because of Donna’s very complicated romantic entanglements, which may include Sean? This morning in the bakery tent, I heard Sean warn Donna to keep her mouth shut about the abuse.”
    “Remember, Linda told us Freddie’s the photographer, not Whitey.” Marlene stopped writing and frowned. “Maybe Whitey didn’t take those pictures. But then why would he have made that phone call?”
    “Right.” Kate shook her head. “MonaLisa is convinced Freddie took the photographs and Whitey outright lied, wanting glory or to impress her. I’d vote for the latter. Whitey was a ladies’ man, and MonaLisa’s a beauty. I’m sure many men have tried to impress her. She believes Whitey’s lie led to his death and she feels guilty.”
    “Why should she feel guilty?” Mary Frances asked with great indignation. “Seems to me Whitey Ford was a snake who got what he deserved.”
    Hang-’em-high Mary Frances. Yet another side of the dancing ex-nun.
    “Well, Ford was no saint, that’s for sure, but murder is never a form of justice.” Kate sounded preachy. She really had to monitor these morality moments, but Mary Frances had pushed her FAIR PLAY button.
    Marlene looked up from the yellow pad. “And we haven’t even explored the other suspects. Remember how Sean attributed motives for Whitey’s death to everyone in the corridor.”
    “Excluding himself and his brother Jocko.” Kate laughed. It sounded small and tinny. “And today I overheard Freddie Ducksworth threaten Suzanna Jordan. Said he could provide eyewitness evidence that her daughter Olivia visited Whitey’s apartment on the night he died. Apparently, Freddie was watching her from Carl Krieg’s window. He claimed to not only be an eyewitness, but said he had photographs proving Olivia and Whitey were having an affair. Suzanna screamed, accusing Freddie of being a degenerate and a lying vulture.”
    “Incestuous little bunch of busy vendors, aren’t they?” Marlene’s raucous laughter filled the room. “Well, that might help explain Olivia’s bizarre behavior in the corridor right before the fire—or what we all thought was a fire.”
    “What happened?” Mary Frances asked.
    “Olivia kept rattling on about needing to find her mother, seemed nervous as hell. Said she’d received a note from Freddie, and she thought he was blackmailing her. Suzanna waltzed in and yelled ‘Shut up, Olivia,’ just as Ballou started barking, and Linda screamed, ‘Fire!’”
    For a moment, no one spoke.
    Then Kate said, “And, as far as we know, Freddie Ducksworth’s still among the missing.”
    “Jocko too,” Marlene said.
    Mary Frances stood. “I’m going home, but there’s one more thing we haven’t addressed.”
    Probably a half-dozen things, Kate thought, feeling weary, wanting to sleep and think about all this tomorrow.
    “Remember how Linda told us about Suzanna’s car crash, and how it appeared to have been premeditated?” Mary Frances had Kate’s full attention. “What if our theories and our motives are all wet? What if someone is plotting to murder all the corridor vendors? What if there’s a serial killer in the flea market?”

Twenty

      
    They’d decided to divide and conquer—Marlene off to Whitey Ford’s memorial service, Kate to Broward General Hospital to visit Donna. That left Mary Frances to babysit Billy, neither adult nor child all that happy about spending the morning together.
    The sun streamed through the double glass doors of Ocean Vista’s lobby, its beams bouncing off the water in