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

acknowledge Jennifer’s giving him credit.
    “I went to the beach Sunday night to spy on Jon Michael and Roberto. Roberto turned out to be a no-show and, to my surprise, Katharine was there, quarreling with Jon Michael. Little did I know that my mother-in-law had a balcony seat for the entire scene.” Jennifer smiled. A weak smile to be sure, but it lifted Kate’s spirits.
    “How could you, Mom?” Katharine was screaming. “You invaded my privacy and spied on me for months. God, you actually hired a private detective to follow me around. And you hid out down here, sneaking around, checking up on me. It’s like one of those bad fifties movies that we all laugh at in film critique class.”
    “Please continue, Mrs. Kennedy. What did you do on Monday before Jon Michael’s body was discovered?” Nick said, ignoring Katharine’s rant and giving Jennifer no chance to respond to it.
    “I had dinner with Grace Rowling. She’s staying at Pier Sixty-Six. She was very concerned about Katharine, thought the surfers might harm her too. And Grace had discovered Sam Meyers, aka Sam Levin, the fourth boardsman, had also been in Acapulco when Amanda disappeared, though the Mexican police have never questioned him and he never came forward.”
    “Grace Rowling came to see me Monday night after Marlene and I returned home from the pier, from seeing Jon Michael’s body.” Kate hadn’t meant to interrupt; the words just tumbled out. “Grace told us Katharine might be in danger, and she needed to talk to her.” Without planning to, Kate had confirmed at least part of her daughter-in-law’s report about her conversation with Grace.
    Jennifer sighed. “My heart breaks for Grace and I like her, but it’s obvious the woman had a motive for killing Jon Michael.”
    Nick turned to Katharine. “Speaking of motives, Roberto has attributed one to you. On Sunday evening, around eight o’clock, were you at the Neptune Inn bar with Jon Michael, Roberto, and Claude?”
    “Yes, I was there.” Katharine held her head high now, but her voice sounded strained. “Jon Michael and I fought about money. I’d refused to lend him any more.”
    “And what else?” Nick prompted.
    Kate steeled herself.
    “He shouted at me,” Katharine said, her words so low Kate had trouble hearing her. “He said he didn’t need my money anyway, that he hated my red hair and freckles, that I reminded him of Huckleberry Finn, and that I should go back to New York City where I belonged.”
    “Then why did you follow him to the beach at midnight?” Nick asked.
    Kate prayed, hoping Katharine wouldn’t repeat what she’d told Kate this morning: “I wanted to kill him.”
    “For the same reason I visited his grandmother yesterday afternoon,” Katharine replied. “For the same reason I’ll go to his funeral. I loved him. He was no good, but I loved him. Can you understand that? You have been in love, haven’t you, Detective Carbone?”
    Nick’s olive skin darkened and his eyes telegraphed an emotion Kate couldn’t read.
    The phone on his desk rang. Nick picked it up and balked, “Carbone.”
    Kate watched as his face crumbled into deep furrows. “Okay, thanks.” Nick hung up. “The hotel chambermaid found Grace Rowling dead in her bathroom.”

Twenty-Four

      
    Marlene never had put much faith in parapsychology, though she had taken an extension course from Duke University over forty years ago during her first marriage. She’d had the lowest rank in ESP in the entire class. No hearing voices. No predictions that came true. No seeing dead people. However, she didn’t doubt that some people had seen dead men walking…and talking. People like Mary Magdalene.
    She did countenance the idea of reincarnation, hoping she’d come back with Kate and at least two of her three husbands. And she’d behave better the next time around.
    Though she enjoyed tarot cards and astrology, and the occasional visit to a favorite fortune teller in the Keys,