Read Online Death of the Swami Schwartz (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 2) by Noreen Wald - Free Book Online Page B
Book: Death of the Swami Schwartz (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 2) by Noreen Wald
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Authors: Noreen Wald
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mustard, on a nearby rattan table.
At high noon on a Saturday, the beach was awash with activity. Since Ocean Vista was the nearest condo to the south side of the pier, and this was a public beach, locals, tourists, snow birds, and surfers waiting in hope of the next big one, had joined Ocean Vista condo owners on the wide stretch of white sand beneath her balcony.
Umbrellas of every stripe, folding chairs, blankets, picnic hampers, and tire tubes were spread from the Ocean Vista’s pool’s gates to the water’s edge.
The ocean and the sky were color coordinated in shades of blue, the first accented with whitecaps, the second with a few small clouds.
Hungry, she devoured the sandwich, then returned to the kitchen to fetch a slice of lemon pound cake and another cup of tea. Carbs were her favorite food group. She’d never be able to exist on either the Atkins or the South Beach diet.
Finally sated, she uncurled the papers, and read the Life Preserver prospectus. Then read through a second time, re maining confused about what the company actually did. Medical research to be sure, with laboratory tests and experiments on small animals, employing sophisticated blood work, cells and embryos, all sounding like some sort of cloning, but with jargon too technical for her to translate into layman’s terms. In addition to what was described as a state-of-the-art lab, there would be a storage area, with its temperature kept below freezing. And the lab would be working on a medical treatment, referenced only as Neuro Option, to perfectly preserve patients. Another of Life Preserver’s goals: Vitrification. What the devil was that?
Kate got up, went into her bedroom, and looked up the word in her dictionary. “The process of transforming.” Well that certainly cleared everything up.
Back on the chaise, she decided to make an appointment with Dr. Jack Gallagher. Something about the gobbledygook in the Life Preserver prospectus scared her. Hard to believe Swami had been a partner in this mysterious company. She wondered if Gallagher’s press conference was over. And, though she’d been ordered not to go, she couldn’t shake her guilt about not accompanying Tiffani to the police station. Would the girl call when she finished there? If not, Kate would call her.
Two toddlers, walking with a young woman near the shore, caught her eye. For a moment she was back at Jones Beach forty years ago, Kevin holding one hand, Peter holding the other. A soaking wet, ruggedly handsome Charlie coming out of the ocean and swooping the boys up in his strong arms, then leaning over them and kissing Kate.
Blinking back tears, she closed her eyes.
Seventeen
Charlie kissed her toes. He’d always said she had cute feet and he loved her toes painted in Sunburst Coral polish, peeking out of high strappy heels. “Sexy, Kate. Like your long, chestnut hair.”
But she needed a pedicure, didn’t she? And her hair wasn’t chestnut anymore.
She went back to the image of the redheaded Charlie working his way up from her toes. What she liked best about dreaming was rewinding to the good parts.
A shrill ring awakened her. The sun had gone behind a cloud, and both the sky and ocean were darker shades of blue. A chill in the air made her shiver. She glanced out at the beach. Far fewer people. How long had she been sleeping? What time was it anyway?
The phone rang again. Kate jumped up and went through the sliding glass doors into her sterile off-white living room. She must add some color. Maybe the cornflower blue of the earlier midday sky. On the fourth ring, she grabbed the receiver and said, “Hello,” her words thick with sleep.
“Is this Mrs. Kennedy? Kate Kennedy?”
“Yes, it is.” She recognized the voice, but still groggy, couldn’t connect it to a face. A woman. Older. Southern. Refined.
“Good. This is Magnolia McFee.”
Of course. Sweet sound. Steel delivery.
“We’re holding a memorial service for our beloved Swami
At high noon on a Saturday, the beach was awash with activity. Since Ocean Vista was the nearest condo to the south side of the pier, and this was a public beach, locals, tourists, snow birds, and surfers waiting in hope of the next big one, had joined Ocean Vista condo owners on the wide stretch of white sand beneath her balcony.
Umbrellas of every stripe, folding chairs, blankets, picnic hampers, and tire tubes were spread from the Ocean Vista’s pool’s gates to the water’s edge.
The ocean and the sky were color coordinated in shades of blue, the first accented with whitecaps, the second with a few small clouds.
Hungry, she devoured the sandwich, then returned to the kitchen to fetch a slice of lemon pound cake and another cup of tea. Carbs were her favorite food group. She’d never be able to exist on either the Atkins or the South Beach diet.
Finally sated, she uncurled the papers, and read the Life Preserver prospectus. Then read through a second time, re maining confused about what the company actually did. Medical research to be sure, with laboratory tests and experiments on small animals, employing sophisticated blood work, cells and embryos, all sounding like some sort of cloning, but with jargon too technical for her to translate into layman’s terms. In addition to what was described as a state-of-the-art lab, there would be a storage area, with its temperature kept below freezing. And the lab would be working on a medical treatment, referenced only as Neuro Option, to perfectly preserve patients. Another of Life Preserver’s goals: Vitrification. What the devil was that?
Kate got up, went into her bedroom, and looked up the word in her dictionary. “The process of transforming.” Well that certainly cleared everything up.
Back on the chaise, she decided to make an appointment with Dr. Jack Gallagher. Something about the gobbledygook in the Life Preserver prospectus scared her. Hard to believe Swami had been a partner in this mysterious company. She wondered if Gallagher’s press conference was over. And, though she’d been ordered not to go, she couldn’t shake her guilt about not accompanying Tiffani to the police station. Would the girl call when she finished there? If not, Kate would call her.
Two toddlers, walking with a young woman near the shore, caught her eye. For a moment she was back at Jones Beach forty years ago, Kevin holding one hand, Peter holding the other. A soaking wet, ruggedly handsome Charlie coming out of the ocean and swooping the boys up in his strong arms, then leaning over them and kissing Kate.
Blinking back tears, she closed her eyes.
Seventeen
Charlie kissed her toes. He’d always said she had cute feet and he loved her toes painted in Sunburst Coral polish, peeking out of high strappy heels. “Sexy, Kate. Like your long, chestnut hair.”
But she needed a pedicure, didn’t she? And her hair wasn’t chestnut anymore.
She went back to the image of the redheaded Charlie working his way up from her toes. What she liked best about dreaming was rewinding to the good parts.
A shrill ring awakened her. The sun had gone behind a cloud, and both the sky and ocean were darker shades of blue. A chill in the air made her shiver. She glanced out at the beach. Far fewer people. How long had she been sleeping? What time was it anyway?
The phone rang again. Kate jumped up and went through the sliding glass doors into her sterile off-white living room. She must add some color. Maybe the cornflower blue of the earlier midday sky. On the fourth ring, she grabbed the receiver and said, “Hello,” her words thick with sleep.
“Is this Mrs. Kennedy? Kate Kennedy?”
“Yes, it is.” She recognized the voice, but still groggy, couldn’t connect it to a face. A woman. Older. Southern. Refined.
“Good. This is Magnolia McFee.”
Of course. Sweet sound. Steel delivery.
“We’re holding a memorial service for our beloved Swami
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