"Why?" She shrugs. "How would I know? That's Family business, and I stay out of it."
Raffi gives a lopsided smile. "See, I don't think that's true. I think maybe you're the real power behind the throne, Ms. Rochford."
"Ridiculous." Her denial is as swift as it is vehement. I almost believe it.
Almost.
"You actually are a talented actor, aren't you?" Raffi goes on with a hint of amusement. "Look, if you don't want to come clean, I'll lay out for you what I think happened that night."
"Go right ahead." Roxy shakes back her hair.
"I think you sent Chops Lollo to kill Clemenza."
"That's insane."
"Is it?" Raffi asks. "Because we have an audio tape that proves otherwise. Chops, on record, killing him."
We don't have that at all, but I keep my mouth very, very shut. And for a long moment, Roxy just stares back at Raffi. And then her face crumples. She sinks into one of the armchairs, all her bravado evaporating. "You don't understand," she says, her voice small. "Ever since I got mixed up with Gino, I've felt…unsafe. You don't understand how much I've been through." She gives a sniffle. "I've been terrified formonths, since even before the Bernardis split in two. All I want is to get married and to be a good wife and to besafe." She wraps her arms around herself."Clemenza approached me that first night," she says, looking over at Raffi now. "He made it very clear what he expected from me—that if I didn't go to him, spend the night, he'd make sure the parley went against us."
I find myself believing her. Tony Clemenza threatened me, too, after all—blackmailing me for any information I had. And Mr. Clemenza's self-interest was evident in his mediation.
"Of course I told him to take a hike. But Chops overheard him," Roxy goes on. "I don't know where he got the knife from?—"
"The kitchen," I exclaim, even though I should stay quiet. Roxy's eyes dart to me. "He complained about your breakfast," I say awkwardly. "I sent him down to the kitchen to watch Chef's preparations of a new tray." I look over at Raffi. "I completely forgot."
So did he, judging by the faint surprise in his eyes.
Roxy nods vigorously. "That must be it. But I had no idea what happened until after, when he told me he'd taken care of Clemenza, to—to protect me. And to protect Gino, of course. But Gino had nothing to do with it. Neither did I."
"Alright, Ms. Rochford," Raffi says, his tone neutral. "I'm sorry to hear that you were threatened. I absolutely understand why you felt unsafe, and I'm also sorry your bodyguard decided to act on his own. I could even overlook it, because Tony Clemenza pretty much got what was coming to him. But what I can't overlook is the fact that you killed Chops Lollo to keep him quiet."
"No," she says firmly, her voice cold as ice. "I didn't kill Chops. And you have no proof that I did. That was Russo."
"Come on, now. You knew about the secret passage behind this wardrobe. You pretended to Chops that you wanted Russo dead, too, after that incident at the pool. But all you really wanted was to get Chops into that passageway. You, Chops and Gino, working together, would have been strong enough to move the wardrobe to access it."
Ms. Rochford gives a derisive laugh. "But even in this crazy scenario of yours, Gino and I couldn't have moved itbackinto place after Chops was dead."
"No. But he helped pull it back into place along with you—just in case anyone came in and saw what was going on, right? Is that what you told him? Chops followed orders. He would've done what he was told."
Something Nero Andretti once said to me about Mr. Lollo floats into my mind.He was a good bodyguard. Very obedient.
"So once he was in there," Raffi goes on, "Chops helped pulled it back into place with a rope tied all the way around it—a rope that I found there next to him. I guess you told him to untie it, pull it into the passage with him. He would've expected you to help him get the wardrobe out of the way and let him out again after he was done with Russo. But instead, as soon as he pulled the rope in, he got a chest full of lead as reward for his faithful service. Andyouthought you'd successfully tied up any loose ends that could lead back to Clemenza."
"Absurd," Ms. Rochford says faintly. Then, with more force, "There would be bullet holes in the wardrobe if that were the case."
"And there were," Raffi agrees. "You filed them down with a nail file, burned them a little to make them look more realistic.They're not all that convincing once you know what you're really looking at—but they were good enough at the time. They convinced the audience, just like a prop is supposed to do." His smile is bitter. "See, this whole time, I've been getting this sense that I'm only seeing what someone wanted me to see. Like a play, you know? With props and sets…and who'd know more about props and sets than an actor? I got caught up in the show. In your performance."
Did I imagine it, or did I see a quick flash of pride in Ms. Rochford's face?
"So once those holes looked near enough to knots, you hit the button to close the passage panel from Chops' side. When I found him, it looked exactly like you intended: like he'd been attacked from Russo's side. But here's the thing," Raffi says. "I don't think you camepreparedfor all this. Someone gave you that lighter. The nail file. And, of course, the gun and silencer. Maybe someone who likes a little drama and fun himself?"
My heart sinks. But Ms. Rochford has already gone back to denials.
"Your imagination is astonishing," she says. "Good enough to work in my industry, even. But you're wrong."
"Am I?" Raffi challenges. "I just want the truth, Ms. Rochford. For my own peace of mind. I don't plan on telling anyone."
"Your theory might entertain some B-movie audience, but it's nothing more than a wild guess. And why the hell are you trying to pin it on me? I'm not a killer. If anything like that had happened, wouldn't the more obvious suspect be the new Bernardi Don?"
