Read Death is a Bargain (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 3) for Free Online Page B

but knew she came off as judgmental.
    “No, no. Just some volunteer gal from the Broward County Humane Society who has absolutely no authority to poke.” Sean stopped short, looking flustered, as he realized what an unfortunate verb he’d chosen to describe the woman’s mission.
    Kate decided to pay a visit to the volunteer, but she’d start with the trainer. “Why did the Humane Society believe there might be animal abuse, Donna? Had someone here complained?”
    “Those PETA people are fanatics.” Donna scowled, almost spitting out her venom. A definite mean streak, Kate thought. “One of those lunatic troublemakers ranted and raved about the tiger’s nails being clipped too short.” Donna flipped her black ponytail. “I told the old cow she could give Sinbad his next manicure.”
    “Now, Mrs. Kennedy, there’s no reason for you to be fretting over this. The Humane Society dropped the investigation for lack of evidence.” Sean spoke with a “been there, done that” attitude. “So, can I buy you a coffee and a muffin?” He’d reached the counter and was gesturing expansively at the array of baked goods.
    Lack of evidence, indeed. Mary Frances had mentioned those photographs arriving as promised. Kate would rather dine with the devil himself than have breakfast with Sean and Donna.
    “No, thank you. I’m bringing doughnuts back to the booth. We’re busy setting up.”
    “Well, have a good day, Mrs. Kennedy.” His smile held no warmth. “And tell my gal, Marlene, that I’ll be dropping by later to officially welcome her to the Cunningham corridor.”
    Donna pointed to a raspberry doughnut and said to the young clerk, “Please give me two of those and two black coffees with extra sugar. Thanks.”
    After all her rudeness, Donna’s good manners when ordering struck Kate as odd.

      
    The flea market was jumping as Kate walked back to the circus corridor, balancing two coffees, a tea, and three doughnuts in a lopsided cardboard carton. She couldn’t believe how the crowd had swelled. If she didn’t think she’d drop her goodies, she’d glance at her watch. She’d been gone, what, maybe thirty minutes max, and the grounds were packed with people. You couldn’t see the grass for the sneakers. Retirees, moms pushing strollers, teenagers playing hooky, and eager young couples, hand-in-hand, buying housewares. Good. Every one of them could be a prospective buyer.
    Concern curbed her enthusiasm. Whitey Ford’s murder—or, at least, the homicide investigation of his “suspicious death”—and its possible link to animal abuse nagged at her. She didn’t want to put a damper on Marlene’s debut as a vendor, but she so wanted to talk to the Humane Society’s volunteer.
    As a toddler on a tricycle bumped into her shins, almost causing the food to fly out of her hands, Kate veered left, and carefully placed her cardboard carton on a wicker chair in front of a booth selling potted palms. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. Maybe she’d luck out and the Humane Society volunteer would be on the job.
    Early-bird passersby, apparently sated, held shopping bags and totes filled with purchases as they beaded back toward the flea market’s parking lots. Their replacements, streaming past in the opposite direction, looked eager and determined to find a buy. Kate figured many of them were regulars. If the shoppers didn’t go broke, the flea market would be a great place to while away a sunny April morning, enjoying the fresh air and searching for bargains. Far better than sitting at home alone watching sappy talk shows or soap operas.
    Kate dialed information, and her tiny cell phone’s technology both located the phone number and automatically dialed it for her.
    “Broward County Humane Society,” a perky voice answered.
    “Hello. My name is Kate Kennedy, and I need to speak with one of your volunteers.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Which one?”
    “I’m sorry, I don’t know her name.” Hell’s