Dead on Her Feet (An Antonia Blakeley Tango Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free

of his personal assets will go to Lauren Weiss Rothenberg, his ex-wife.”
    “That’s good work.”
    “Guest had dinner at Aria with Shawna Muir on Thursday night. The staff remembers because he proposed over dessert. If he had anything to do with the deceased’s, uh, unfortunate accident, sir, we’ll have to be real careful, sir. You know who his family is, don’t you?”
    Whoa Bessie. Not those Guests. One of the most over-privileged families in Atlanta. “I do now.”
    “Mrs. Rothenberg hadn’t left New York so her alibi checks.”
    “Good. What about Rothenberg’s last movements?”
    “Looks like he ate dinner at home on Thursday. Last credit card purchase was at Publix. Rotisserie chicken, salad stuff, bottle of wine. We’re fixin’ to get the phone records.”
    A hearse pulled into view on the winding path. A fair size crowd followed on foot. Miles Rothenberg had been loved or at least respected. The vehicle halted periodically and the mourners recited a prayer at each stop. Morrow spotted Guest in the middle of the pack with his arm around the woman who’d watched him in class. Antonia Blakeley had turned up with two other people he’d seen at the dance studio: a thin red-haired woman and a portly man with a comb-over. The mourners chatted among themselves with more animation than he usually saw at Christian funerals.
    Jackson said, “The lady in the blue raincoat, that’s his fiancée. Shawna Muir. Flight attendant.”
    “She was at the dance class. Seemed concerned to see me questioning Guest. Any link to Rothenberg?”
    “Not so far, sir. Who’s the lady with the long brown hair waving her umbrella?”
    “Ms. Antonia Blakeley to you. Dance teacher.”
    “What the heck’s she doing, landing a plane?”
     “Organizing the mourners, probably.” Morrow chuckled. “You should have seen her the other day. Ordering the class around like a drill instructor. Tried to horn in on the investigation.”
    The hearse stopped and six pallbearers shifted the simple pine coffin onto their shoulders and bore it to the grave. The mourners gathered. One woman stood alone. She wore a black ribbon on her trench coat, which made her a member of the family. Lauren Weiss Rothenberg.
    Morrow signaled to Jackson. They left their observation post and joined the group, keeping close to Guest but out of his sight line.
    The rabbi spoke in Hebrew, then in English: “O thou that dwellest in the covert of the Most High and abidest in the shadow of the Almighty …” He did full justice to the psalm, but in Morrow’s experience, evil did touch people who said their prayers.
    Just as the rabbi finished it began to drizzle.
    After the coffin was lowered into the ground Lauren Weiss Rothenberg picked up a shovel, turned the blade face down and jabbed it into the soil. Morrow heard the scrape of metal against stones. She turned towards the grave and flicked the shovel. Dirt and pebbles rained down onto the box. She placed the shovel on the ground and turned back towards the other mourners.
    Morrow watched Blakeley go up to her and offer condolences. He got the impression they’d not met before. He waited to see if Guest would do the same.
    Guest had been standing at the fringes looking off into the distance. He took his hands out of his pockets and approached the grieving woman. “Lauren.”
    She whipped around. “You! Don’t speak to me.”
    Guest stepped back, astonished. “Lauren—”
    “You’re responsible for this.”
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “You have some nerve, you slick son of a bitch.” Lauren reached for the shovel but before she could put it to use Ms. Blakeley stepped between them.
    “Time to go.” Blakeley grabbed Guest by the arm and hauled him out of reach, no mean feat considering their height and weight differences.
    The Rabbi did his best to rise above the commotion. He made it through the memorial prayer and bade the non–family members to form two lines. As the mourners passed