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Authors: Nora charles
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in men, but she would never have gotten past yellow teeth and no brains.”
Kate figured that there might have been more than two blond surfers in Acapulco last summer, but only said, “How did you learn that the surfers were in Palmetto Beach?”
“I hired a private detective. He’s doing what the Mexican police should be doing, investigating those three men.” Grace shook her head. “As for me, I’ll haunt them. I’ll follow them to the ends of the earth, at least until my money runs out.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Those three bastards know where my daughter is.” She wiped her eyes with a cocktail napkin.
Kate, always within reach of Pepcid AC, Kleenex, and Tylenol, dug into her handbag and handed Grace a small package of tissues.
“Thanks,” Grace whispered as her face crumbled. “Amanda and I were very close. If she were alive she’d call me. She’s dead, isn’t she?”
Neither Kate nor Marlene answered Grace’s question.
“If Jon Michael killed Amanda, now he’s dead and I’ll never know the truth.” Grace’s agony was palpable. “Do you think someone killed him?”
Thinking Grace would be the prime suspect, Kate said, “No. I saw Jon Michael’s body. I’m sure a shark killed him.”
Grace shook her head. “Is your granddaughter here, Kate? I really need to talk to her.”
Fifteen
Tuesday Morning, October 31
The image of Jon Claude’s bloody stump woke Kate up just before the clock struck seven. If only there was a delete button for the subconscious.
Ballou yelped as she crawled out of bed, nuzzling her ankle as she headed toward the bathroom. Kate had heard Katharine come in at eleven thirty and, though wide-awake reading Ava Gardner’s biography, she hadn’t gotten up. She’d decided to wait until morning to discuss Jon Michael’s death and Grace Rowling’s visit. Now that morning had arrived, Kate dreaded that conversation, wondering if her granddaughter already knew about the surfer.
Tempted to go back to bed, instead she walked to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, her lifelong panacea.
Katharine sat at the kitchen table clutching her own cup of tea. Somehow that pleased Kate.
“Nana, Jon Michael’s dead. Did you know that?”
Kate heard the heartbreak in Katharine’s voice, almost a replay of Grace Rowling’s tone last night.
“I’m so sorry, darling.” Kate put her arms around her granddaughter, not sure what else to say. She gave Katharine a long hug, and then turned on the jet under the kettle.
“Claude called me.” The girl had dark circles under puffy eyes. She’d been crying long and hard. “Attacked by a shark. What a terrible way to die. I cried all night. Your couch must be totally tearstained.”
“You didn’t sleep in the guest room?”
“Mom’s in the guest room.” Katharine didn’t hide her disgust.
“Jennifer’s here?” Kate reeled, feeling out of control.
“Yeah, she sure is. She flew down on Sunday night and checked into the Boca Raton Hotel, you know, that resort on the beach; nothing but the best for Mom, right?”
Katharine screwed up her nose, reminding Kate of Charlie’s expression of disgust. No doubt Jennifer had checked out of the hotel and slept here last night because she hadn’t wanted to let Katharine out of her sight.
“Mom said she had an appointment with a client up in Palm Beach yesterday morning, but I know she’s been spying on me, Nana. Now she’s insisting that I go home with her today. But I’m not going. Not today. Not ever. I promised Jon Michael’s grandmother when I called her this morning that I’d be at his funeral and no one, not even Jennifer Lowell Kennedy, can stop me.”
So Katharine had spoken to Florita Flannigan, who Marlene had suspected might be Diamond Lil, bank robber extraordinaire. What had the girl been up to yesterday? And why had Grace Rowling wanted to talk to her? Grace had declined to tell Kate, only saying she needed to speak to Katharine alone and she’d be
Kate figured that there might have been more than two blond surfers in Acapulco last summer, but only said, “How did you learn that the surfers were in Palmetto Beach?”
“I hired a private detective. He’s doing what the Mexican police should be doing, investigating those three men.” Grace shook her head. “As for me, I’ll haunt them. I’ll follow them to the ends of the earth, at least until my money runs out.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Those three bastards know where my daughter is.” She wiped her eyes with a cocktail napkin.
Kate, always within reach of Pepcid AC, Kleenex, and Tylenol, dug into her handbag and handed Grace a small package of tissues.
“Thanks,” Grace whispered as her face crumbled. “Amanda and I were very close. If she were alive she’d call me. She’s dead, isn’t she?”
Neither Kate nor Marlene answered Grace’s question.
“If Jon Michael killed Amanda, now he’s dead and I’ll never know the truth.” Grace’s agony was palpable. “Do you think someone killed him?”
Thinking Grace would be the prime suspect, Kate said, “No. I saw Jon Michael’s body. I’m sure a shark killed him.”
Grace shook her head. “Is your granddaughter here, Kate? I really need to talk to her.”
Fifteen
Tuesday Morning, October 31
The image of Jon Claude’s bloody stump woke Kate up just before the clock struck seven. If only there was a delete button for the subconscious.
Ballou yelped as she crawled out of bed, nuzzling her ankle as she headed toward the bathroom. Kate had heard Katharine come in at eleven thirty and, though wide-awake reading Ava Gardner’s biography, she hadn’t gotten up. She’d decided to wait until morning to discuss Jon Michael’s death and Grace Rowling’s visit. Now that morning had arrived, Kate dreaded that conversation, wondering if her granddaughter already knew about the surfer.
Tempted to go back to bed, instead she walked to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, her lifelong panacea.
Katharine sat at the kitchen table clutching her own cup of tea. Somehow that pleased Kate.
“Nana, Jon Michael’s dead. Did you know that?”
Kate heard the heartbreak in Katharine’s voice, almost a replay of Grace Rowling’s tone last night.
“I’m so sorry, darling.” Kate put her arms around her granddaughter, not sure what else to say. She gave Katharine a long hug, and then turned on the jet under the kettle.
“Claude called me.” The girl had dark circles under puffy eyes. She’d been crying long and hard. “Attacked by a shark. What a terrible way to die. I cried all night. Your couch must be totally tearstained.”
“You didn’t sleep in the guest room?”
“Mom’s in the guest room.” Katharine didn’t hide her disgust.
“Jennifer’s here?” Kate reeled, feeling out of control.
“Yeah, she sure is. She flew down on Sunday night and checked into the Boca Raton Hotel, you know, that resort on the beach; nothing but the best for Mom, right?”
Katharine screwed up her nose, reminding Kate of Charlie’s expression of disgust. No doubt Jennifer had checked out of the hotel and slept here last night because she hadn’t wanted to let Katharine out of her sight.
“Mom said she had an appointment with a client up in Palm Beach yesterday morning, but I know she’s been spying on me, Nana. Now she’s insisting that I go home with her today. But I’m not going. Not today. Not ever. I promised Jon Michael’s grandmother when I called her this morning that I’d be at his funeral and no one, not even Jennifer Lowell Kennedy, can stop me.”
So Katharine had spoken to Florita Flannigan, who Marlene had suspected might be Diamond Lil, bank robber extraordinaire. What had the girl been up to yesterday? And why had Grace Rowling wanted to talk to her? Grace had declined to tell Kate, only saying she needed to speak to Katharine alone and she’d be
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