Death Rides the Surf (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 5) by Noreen Wald Page A

dead.”
    “I’m so sorry.” Marlene felt choked up and teary herself. Jon Michael’s grandmother was suffering. Maybe Marlene shouldn’t have come.
    “Mandrake said you’d be stopping by.” Florita grabbed Marlene’s elbow. “Come in, I have a pot of coffee on. We need to talk about the pig’s blood.”

Twenty-Three

      
    Jennifer had jumped out of her chair and verbally lashed out at Nick, making him very angry and her mother-in-law very nervous. A suspect, even an innocent suspect, shouldn’t accuse the detective in charge of the murder investigation of being an intimidating boor.
    “Sit down, Mrs. Kennedy.” Carbone spoke softly. He must be furious. His tone frightened Kate.
    Jennifer sat. He must have frightened her too.
    Katharine twisted her handkerchief into knots. All color had drained from the girl’s face and she was staring at her mother as if she’d never seen her before.
    “Ladies, I have asked you all here together so you can tell me, and maybe each other, what you’ve been up to and why.” Carbone sighed.
    Jennifer flushed and turned away from Kate’s scrutiny.
    “Some of your collective and individual behavior has been baffling. Now, Mrs. Kennedy,” the detective said, addressing Jennifer, “would you like to tell me your version of that luncheon conversation with Roberto Romero or shall I go with his, which indicated you’d found him hot and had used Jon Michael as an excuse to get to know him better?”
    “That bastard,” Jennifer stammered. Kate had never heard her daughter-in-law use that sort of language or sound so ruffled. “I wanted to talk to him about Acapulco. I believe Roberto, Jon Michael, and that other boy, Claude Jensen, had something to do with Amanda Rowling’s disappearance. I knew those surfers were no good and Katharine was involved with them. I’d hired a private detective. They all had dicey pasts. For God’s sake, Claude’s been in jail and his father’s an ax murderer. Roberto’s a gigolo. I was worried about what might happen to my daughter.” She faltered, seeming incapable of going on. The strain showed on her face.
    Katharine hung her head, her face ashen, her eyes filled with tears, her shame almost palpable.
    Jennifer Lowell Kennedy, stockbroker extraordinaire, society fund-raiser, perfect hostess, devoted wife and mother, looked haggard and helpless.
    It made Kate mad. “Stop!” she shouted at Nick. “Enough.”
    The detective rolled his chair back and stood up. “This is a murder investigation, Kate. I’d think you of all people would want to hear the truth.”
    Why, because she was the widow of a homicide detective and she’d dabbled in detecting herself? How dare Nick use that rationale to tear her family asunder? Or could Nick be on the right track? Maybe she didn’t want to know the truth.
    “No, Kate. Let me finish,” Jennifer said. “I want it all out, every lie, every evasion, and every motive. Then maybe Detective Carbone will look for the real killer and leave our family alone.”
    Nick sat back down. “I’m listening.”
    “I arrived in Fort Lauderdale late Sunday afternoon and checked into the Boca Raton Hotel. I had no client here. I met with the private detective I’d hired on Grace Rowling’s recommendation. I knew Katharine had fallen for Jon Michael in Acapulco and was still obsessed with him. I wanted to learn all I could about the Four Boardsmen, so I’d called Grace, who was convinced Jon Michael had harmed her daughter—she couldn’t accept that Amanda was probably dead—and that Claude and Roberto had lied to protect him.”
    Katharine groaned, lifting her head for a moment to give her mother a filthy look.
    “The detective told me about Jon Michael’s and Roberto’s midnight surf rides. He’d suspected they might be running drugs, but he couldn’t figure out how.” Jennifer waved her right hand toward Nick. “Now we know.”
    Nick nodded, his face remaining noncommittal, but somehow seeming to