Death Rides the Surf Read Online Free Page B

ex-nun.
    According to Joe Sajak, widower and womanizer, during the weekly poker games in Ocean Vista’s rec room, side bets were being placed on Mary Frances’s virginity. The odds were two-to-one against. But Kate figured putting money on Mary Frances’s chastity would be a safe bet. Maybe safer than betting on Katharine’s.
    “So where were you this morning, Miss Costello?” Katharine tried again.
    Mary Frances beamed. “I had a private session with the world-famous talking skull.” She paused for dramatic effect.
    Kate watched as Nick’s fleshy jaw dropped.
    “His owner is based in Fort Lauderdale. She travels the world with Mandrake, you know, but they’re in residence here for the summer. They just returned from a conference in Cairo. I was lucky to get an appointment. My astrologist’s a personal friend of the skull and his owner.”
    Katharine stared at Mary Frances—Kate thought with amazement, but it could have been fear.
    “For God sake’s, Mary Frances!” Marlene banged on the table. “How can a former high school principal be such a superstitious sucker?”
    Nick drained his glass, shaking his head—Kate guessed in disgust, not amazement.
    “Miss Costello,” Katharine’s voice was shaky. “You spent the morning with Florita Flannigan?”
    “Yes, I did, indeed.” Mary Frances seemed pleased that Katharine had heard of the skull reader. “In addition to running Golden Glow, Palmetto Beach’s best tanning salon, Florita reads skulls. For only fifty-five dollars, selected clients can enjoy private sessions with her crystal skull—reputed to have been found in an Aztec ruin—and get advice from the world beyond.” Mary Frances ran her right hand through her hair, messing her curls just enough to make them flatter her more than ever.
    Nick waved the waiter over. “Another martini here.” He turned back to Mary Frances. “I know the place. The advertisements brag that Golden Glow is the only tanning salon/skull reading operation in Broward County. We’re monitoring Ms. Flannigan’s activities very closely.”
    “Why?’ Katharine asked. “Florita Flannigan is an honorable, hard-working woman.”
    “Have you met her?” Nick asked.
    “Well, I haven’t actually met her yet, but Mrs. Flannigan is my boyfriend Jon Michael’s grandmother. He absolutely adores her.”

Seven
    Halloween was only two days away. Back in Rockville Centre, Long Island—where Kate and Charlie had lived for over forty years—the frost would be on the pumpkins and the neighborhood children would be stuffing scarecrows and getting costumes ready for trick-or-treating.
    Ocean Vista’s residents, some of them in their second childhoods, Kate thought uncharitably, were getting ready for Halloween. At last year’s bash, the condo president had been found murdered on the beach. Kate didn’t see how her neighbors could top that, but God knows they were trying, eagerly planning this evening’s pre-Halloween picnic.
    Instead of autumn leaves and sweater weather, the temperature at three o’clock hovered at eighty degrees. When Kate and Marlene returned from walking Ballou, the beach was awash with gossip about who would be going to the beach party as Sonny and Cher and how Joe Sajak had rented a Batman costume with extra padding in the tights.
    The warm sea was capped with rough-for-South-Florida waves and the surfers were driving some of the seniors out of the water.
    Great, Kate thought as she sank into her beach chair, Ballou at her feet.
    Three of the Four Boardsmen were in the surf. Kate watched Katharine try out a brand-new surfboard, purchased on their way home from lunch. A wave knocked her granddaughter off the board and into the sea. Katharine screamed so loud that Ballou, more than fifty feet away, barked. As Jon Michael helped Katharine back onto the board, Kate felt a pang of fear. Why? How could she feel such intense, collective dislike for young men she’d never met?
    While shopping for the