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

Charlie Kennedy’s twin brother and her second husband, had died long after their divorce. Still, she’d planned and paid for Kevin’s funeral, thanks to the generosity of Jack Weiss, her third and last late husband. May he and the Kennedy brothers rest in peace.
    Enough with depressing memories. Hell, she might be old, sweaty, and, uh, Rubenesque. But today, she would pull herself together and drive up to the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach—a far cry from Rockaway Beach—to her first date with a man who composed charmingly romantic emails and looked like he enjoyed a good meal. If she could only find her goddamn shoes.

      
    Feeling twenty pounds thinner—her new Lycra tummy tucker working its magic, and her hour-long makeup session leaving a golden glow on her skin, defining her hazel eyes, and creating an illusion of cheekbones—Marlene almost waltzed into the lobby. Only to run into Mary Frances Costello, who was waving a letter and wearing her teacher-knows-best face.
    “We have a legal problem.”
    When the Ocean Vista condo owners had so wisely elected Marlene president of the board of directors in a rather distasteful special election that mirrored the town of Palmetto Beach’s equally distasteful special election, they’d also none-too-wisely voted in the dancing nun as vice-president. Over the last few months, Marlene had been suffering from the results of the electorate’s VP decision on a daily basis.
    “What now, Mary Frances? I’m on my way to Palm Beach.”
    “Mrs. Lombardo, on the seventh floor, has complained to the town council about one of Dallas Dalton’s king-size whirlpool tubs causing her bathroom ceiling to buckle. A building inspector is on his way. As an eyewitness, I can vouch that Gina Lombardo’s ceiling is ready to cave at any moment and she’s hopping mad. She just had the bathroom painted and put up new wallpaper. And the fawns are wet.”
    “Fawns? What the hell are you talking about?”
    “Please lower your voice, Mrs. Friedman.” Miss Mitford the sentinel said, sounding vexed.
    “The wallpaper’s pattern. Frolicking fawns. That’s Gina’s bathroom’s theme. All the faucets are deer-shaped. Anyway, the fawns were stained by falling wet debris and Gina’s going to sue Dallas Dalton.” Mary Frances paused, then smirked, and read from the letter she’d been waving around. “She’s also suing Ocean Vista’s board of directors for agreeing to such an enormous, under-supervised, and completely unethical expansion.”
    Marlene felt the sweat rising, flooding her face from neck to forehead. She reached into her red patent leather handbag, yanked out a wad of tissues, and then gently patted her cheeks, trying not to smear her makeup. “I have an appointment in Palm Beach.”
    “You’ll have an appointment in court if you don’t speak to Gina Lombardo and try to calm her down. She’s already hired an attorney and called the Sun- Sentinel. Next she’ll be appearing on Channel Seven.”
    Glancing at her watch, Marlene groaned. “Hell’s bells. Where is Gina now?”
    “Up in Dallas Dalton’s spread, screaming at her workmen.”
    Damn. Since she didn’t have his phone number, she couldn’t even tell her date-to-die-for that she might be late. Marlene headed for the elevator, calling over her shoulder, “Move it, Mary Frances.”
    Dallas Dalton owned almost 3,500 square feet, having purchased Ocean Vista’s top floor’s entire right wing, and turned all five units into a massive apartment, with spectacular views of the pier, the ocean, and downtown Fort Lauderdale.
    The whirlpool tub in question was located in what had been a one-bedroom unit directly above Gina’s condo, but now that one-bedroom—along with its living and dining rooms, plus the kitchen and bath—had been remodeled into a resort-size spa.
    The workforce that Dallas Dalton had hired, ten men strong, including engineers, electricians, plumbers, and two architects, had allowed Marlene and Mary