Death of the Swami Schwartz (A Kate Kennedy Mystery Book 2) by Noreen Wald

with another student? Had she totally lost her mind?
    “Any fool could see that the guy was crazy about her, but Tiffani told my wife she’d fallen madly in love with Swami Schwartz. Go figure. That young doctor’s in trouble; Tiffani’s a tease.”
    Kate wondered if Herb spoke from personal experience.
    “What about Danny?” Marlene asked, her tenacity coming through loud and clear.
    Herb sighed. “Look, I like Danny Mancini and I don’t believe for a New York nanosecond that he killed Swami Schwartz. They were family, you know. But that Dallas gal is right. Danny’s a big gambler. Owes the mob more than a quarter of a million. He’s not only in danger of losing the restaurant, he’s in danger of losing his life.” Herb wiped his beefy hand across his brow. “Or he was. Now, with this inheritance, he’ll be okay again. At least until the next sure thing. The next safe bet. Danny’s addicted. He belongs in Gamblers Anonymous.”
    From some deep, dank recess of Kate’s mind, Tiffani’s tale about Detective Carbone and Danny Mancini going off together this morning, leaving the waitress and the young cop behind to pack up the evidence boxes, suddenly surfaced, covered in muddy questions itching to be answered.
    “Herb, do you know if Danny Mancini and Detective Carbone are friends? Maybe even longtime friends, from decades ago in New York?”
    Herb’s hound-dog jowls drooped to what she suspected might be an all-time low. “You’re one sharp cookie, Kate Kennedy. Danny Mancini is Nick Carbone’s godfather too.”

Twenty-Three

      
    If dessert hadn’t been included in the price of her dinner, Kate would have gone straight home. But had she left after Herb’s bombshell, she’d have forgotten to ask him to recommend an attorney for Tiffani. So now she and Marlene were wading through deep-dish apple pie, topped with vanilla ice cream, and mulling over likely lawyers.
    “Why don’t we just put the three names in a hat and let Tiffani pick the winner?” Marlene asked, around a mouthful of pie. “I’m much more interested in Detective Carbone’s relationship to Danny Mancini.”
    “Do you suppose many people know about that?” Kate somehow didn’t think so.
    “Let’s see what we have here. Herb learned Danny was Nick Carbone’s godfather during a poker game between him, Danny and two waiters from Mancini’s. And you were right, Kate. Danny, Nick, and Swami had come from the same neighborhood.”
    “Most of those waiters have been at Mancini’s for forty years. Danny would have trusted them. Or maybe Danny didn’t care if people knew Nick was his godson. Maybe it wasn’t a secret.” Kate sipped her coffee. “But Herb sure acted as if it were, and neither Mancini nor Carbone has ever mentioned it.”
    Marlene put her spoon down. “I’m outta here. Come on, Kate, let’s go home. We have work to do.”

      
    A breeze had kicked up and the temperature had dropped some, but the crowd on the pier remained thick. Mostly teenagers starting out on this cool February evening, while the early-bird diners and the families with young children headed home.
    Not wanting sand in their shoes, they walked back as they had come, along A1A, accompanied by the scent of hibiscus and the rustle of palm trees.
    Almost no one walked anywhere in South Florida; tonight was no exception. In both the north and south lanes, traffic whizzed by. Saturday night drivers were always in a hurry. The Neptune Boulevard Bridge must be down, allowing quick access to the mainland. People going over to the movies on Federal Highway, or down to a café on Las Olas, or, maybe, out west to the track to bet on the trotters.
    Charlie had loved the track. But Kate usually held the winning tickets. And the horses in the race, the jockey’s record, the owners’ colors had nothing to do with her success. She’d played the same Daily Double combination that her father had played for over forty years. Number Four to Win and Number Six