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

self-pity, she’d probably die on the job. Though Dinah’s regulars weren’t famous movie stars’ wealthy widows, they were, for the most part, far better mannered than Dallas Dalton.
    “You bet, sugar, in a sec,” Madge said sweetly, then walked as slowly as humanly possible over to the sideboard filled with steaming coffee pots. Kate wondered if Madge had ever considered lacing a customer’s cup with cyanide.
    Tiffani smiled, a wicked little grin, seeming to support a sister waitress’s small defiance.
    Dallas fixed her baby blue eyes on Kate. With the sun streaming through the window behind her, she looked older than she had in the soft lighting at Mancini’s…her carefully applied navy eyeliner more noticeable…the gray-blue eye shadow slightly smudged. She had creases on her cheeks, but her chin line was firm, her skin pink and healthy, and her smile—much more wicked than Tiffani’s—bright. Though past her prime—Kate scolded herself, ashamed of her ageism and sexist thought process—Dallas Dalton was a very pretty woman.
    “Is the whodunit question still on the table, Kate?” The twang had acquired a smirk.
    Tiffani started, spilling coffee onto her saucer.
    “Yes.” Kate hoped Tiffani would let Dallas do the talking.
    “Did y’all know Swami’s father, David Schwartz, and Danny Mancini grew up in the same section of Brooklyn? That they’d been best buddies back in high school. Went off to war together. I understand they were pretty tough kids. Movable crap games. Fixed fights. All very Damon Runyon. I really loved Guys and Dolls, didn’t you Kate?”
    Sitting next to Dallas, Tiffani looked totally bewildered—and why not? She was much too young to grasp any of Dallas’ New York-gangster, musical comedy references.
    Without waiting for Kate’s review of Guys and Dolls, Dallas kept talking, “Even in his golden years, Danny Mancini is quite the gambler. Horses. Y’all know Shane and I loved horses—had our own stable—but we only bet on the Kentucky Derby. For Danny, horse racing is an addiction, not a sport. He owed his bookie three hundred grand. And when he turned to his old pal’s son, Swami said no. Now, min d you, he’d already paid off many of Danny’s gambling debts. But this time, Danny was in real danger of losing the restaurant. He’d already mortgaged his house. If I were a betting woman, I’d wager Danny Mancini killed Swami Schwartz.”
    Tiffani gasped. “He did insist on pouring the Anisette.” Wondering why Dallas was telling them all this, Kate shook her head. “Though Danny had both the means and the opportunity, what would have been his motive? With Swami dead, he couldn’t borrow any more money from him.”
    “Sugar, Danny Mancini is Swami Schwartz’s godfather. He’s in the yogi’s will.”

Ten

      
    Marlene hadn’t been so excited since she’d lost her virginity. Her heart was dancing to a salsa beat. She turned the air conditioner on full blast. February might be South Florida’s coldest month, but hustling around her apartment, bursting with nervous energy and bordering on an anxiety attack, she felt like a hot flash from hell had consumed her body. Sweat seemed to ooze out of the deepest recesses of her soul. And with all the mess—total mess—though Marlene usually preferred to think of the clutter in her apartment as casual disarray, she couldn’t find her red patent leather, strappy sandals. The ones with the four-inch heels.
    “ Think .” Marlene crawled out from under one of the beds in her guest room. “Where did you take them off?” Talking to herself. A sure sign she was crazed. After all, she wasn’t seventeen and about to hitchhike down to Rockaway Beach with Tony De Luca to share an illegal beer and a robust round of necking under the boardwalk. A half-century had passed; no, flown by.
    She was now Marlene Friedman Gorski Kennedy Weiss. Three times a bride. Twice divorced. Once widowed. Well, twice widowed, though Kevin,