Either heisa plant, or…
Or he’s as alone in this world as I am.
Once the formalities of the burial have been completed, people mill around talking. There will be a formal luncheon for the Castellani Family, so now is my only chance to speak with the emissaries from the other Families. I approach them each in turn, and each of them give me their condolences. I look them in the eyes as I thank them, trying to track any flickers, any guardedness, any hint that they might be the one who ordered this death.
No one asks about the culprit. Not with the FBI so close. But they all know it was no heart attack that killed my father.
But Vincenzo Esposito asks after someone else. “Your brother, Julian. He’s not here?”
Vincenzo is a huge, broad-shouldered man in his forties with an expressionless face, the kind of man who does not need the dark sunglasses he wears to hide his thoughts. He’s the Esposito Enforcer, or so the story goes. I do wonder what’s behind this sudden concern for Julian. Especially from Vincenzo, who is one of Anna-Vittoria Esposito’s many cousins.
“My half-brother is unwell,” I tell him, watching him closely.
He almost asks something else, but hesitates, then nods. “I hope he’ll recover soon,” he says, and turns to leave.
After I’ve received all the condolences I can stomach, I stand a little apart, looking over the small crowd. If the killer is not here, the person who sent them may well be. I raise my guard as I see Angelo Messina ambling toward me, his husband slightly behind, looking this way and that in the manner of a bodyguard.
“Don Castellani,” Messina says, kissing me on both cheeks before shaking my hand. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I appreciate you being here.” The lie rolls easily enough off my tongue. “I did not expect—”
“And you must forgive us for intruding on a private ceremony,” he says. “But I have a message for you. It’s from a friend of mine. Someone who would like to also be a friend of yours.”
“Yes?” He means Luca D’Amato, of course.
“He’d like to pay his respects in person. He’s been considering a vacation here in LA.”
This is not the news I was expecting, and I don’t like the sound of it. “I’d be very happy to receive him.”
“Of course,” Messina murmurs, as though that was never in question.
“The last time we met,” I begin, pausing so that Messina can fill in the blanks. The FBI don’t need to knowallour business, after all.
He nods his understanding. “Circumstances have changed.”
The last time we met, my father was Don Castellani, and Messina made it clear that no alliance would be made with the Morelli Family. But my father no longer rules the Family, and I…
I would rather make a friend of the Morellis than an enemy.
But I still don’t like Luca D’Amato moving in so quickly to test the waters.
Messina and his silent husband leave soon after. The rest of the crowd begins to disperse as well, but from a distance, I watch my mother and Gene Lombardo in deep discussion. Are they conspiring together? Have they done so already?
I shake my head impatiently. Can I really suspect my own mother of killing my father? She is more than capable of it, but whynow? Why not years ago, if she wanted him dead?
And then, to my horror, I see Lina Lamond a few yards away, hesitating as she looks at my mother, and then walking forward with determination.
She can’t mean to speak to my mother, surely.
Surely?
Oh, God—
At the last moment, when I’ve already begun a hurried walk toward them, I see Wilson intervene. He’s the only staff member I permitted to attend the funeral, and now I’m glad he did. He heads off Lina Lamond, leading her away with an arm through hers, patting at her hand and nodding as she says something, dabbing at her eyes.
I mutter a silent prayer of gratitude to the Virgin. I don’t even dare imagine what my mother’s reaction would have been. Lina was playing not with fire, but with a nuclear bomb.
It’s time to get my mother out of here. I walk over and dismiss Lombardo with a nod. “It’s time, Mamma. Are you coming to the gathering?”
