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

to Show in the first race of the Daily Double; then Number Six to Win and Number Four to Show in the second race. Her father’s betting logic: Number Four—for the number of letters in his first name: Bill. And Number Six—for the number of letters in his last name: Norton. Bill Norton had seldom lost. Nor had his daughter. Kate’s winning “system” drove Charlie crazy. She smiled, remembering. The smile brought tears to her eyes. Even happy memories hurt.
    “Godfather or not, Nick Carbone’s too self-righteous to help Danny Mancini cover up a murder, don’t you think?” Had Marlene spotted her tears and tried to distract her? No matter. As tired and vulnerable as Kate felt, it was better to have murder than memories on her mind.
    “I’d like to think so, but this morning godson and godfather took off together, leaving the crime scene evidence in the hands of Tiffani and a rookie cop. That’s very strange behavior for such a by-the-book detective.”
    “Slow down, Kate.” Marlene was panting. “That entire dinner seems to have settled in my esophagus.”
    Kate, who’d taken a Pepcid AC as a precaution before dinner, reached in her pocket and handed one to Marlene. “I can’t swallow this without water.”
    Tempted to say, then suffer, Kate nodded encouragingly. “Try. And, if you really can’t get it down, we’re only steps from the lobby. You can use the water fountain near the pool.”
    Marlene popped the tiny tablet into her mouth, then, looking miserable, shook her head.
    Moving slowly wouldn’t help her sister-in-law’s heartburn. Kate picked up the pace.

      
    Amazing. At eight forty-five on a Saturday night, Ocean Vista’s lobby was as deserted as a graveyard. Miss Mitford’s desk area had gone dark and the piped-in music had been turned off. The water gurgling in Aphrodite’s fountain seemed eerily loud in the silence.
    Marlene, who’d kept her mouth shut until she’d reached the water fountain, had swallowed the tablet and was talking again.
    “Spooky, isn’t it? There must be a few live ones left in the dining room. What time does Tiffani finish up?”
    “Nine thirty.” Kate pressed the elevator button.
    “Hold that elevator, sugar.”
    Kate, recognizing the twang, turned around. Gone were the too-tight jeans and spangled denim jacket. Dallas now wore black yoga pants and a black cashmere sweatshirt. What she was carrying caught Kate’s attention: A whip, crafted from rich cordovan leather.
    “Well, ladies, I didn’t reckon to run into you two so soon.” Dallas glanced around the lobby. “Makes Death Valley look lively, don’t it?”
    “Are you bringing that whip up to your apartment?” Marlene sounded shrill, not unlike chalk scratching a blackboard.
    “Sure am. Thistle’s on his way home to mama.”
    “As president of Ocean Vista,” the shrill had become a shriek, “I forbid you to bring that horse here. Your condo documents clearly state that we don’t permit animals over twenty pounds.”
    If that were true, Kate had better put Ballou on a diet.
    “Chill out, sugar. My original arrangements worked out. Thistle’s moving into his new quarters on Monday. And tomorrow being Sunday, all the workmen are off, so tonight I’m going to sleep in my new home for the first time. Kind of a test run. I just brought this over from the hotel. Reminds me of Shane’s and my days on the range.” Dallas ran her hand over the leather on the whip, almost caressing it. “I never sleep without Thistle’s saddle next to my bed.”
    They rode up to the third floor in dead silence.
    “I could seriously strangle that woman,” Marlene said, as they entered Kate’s apartment, Ballou’s yelps of joy and affectionate ankle nips greeting them.
    Kate laughed. “One murder at a time, please.”
    Marlene scooped Ballou up and sat on Kate’s off-white couch, holding the Westie in her lap.
    “Well, I think I’m going to live. Your pill worked. I can breathe again. I’m going on a