Why wouldanyonekill Clemenza? That's what I can't figure out. As far as I knew, both Bernardi factions seemed okay with how things were going. And even if Sandro thought the Morellis were going to object to something—whateverthatwas—there's no way in hell he'd take out Tony Clemenza.
I pour out a slug of whiskey from the bar provisions Darian himself must have set up in this guest room, and press it into his hands. The sun is only just rising, but I don't care. He wraps his fingers around it gratefully, color starting to return to his face as he takes a big sip.
I crouch before the chair, looking him over. No blood, thank God. He didn't get too close to the body. "Did you see anything out of the ordinary last night or this morning? Anyone hanging around Clemenza's room? Walking around the corridors?"
Darian shakes his head mutely.
I want to ask him why he didn't come to me last night. But that's the last thing that should be on my mind. I stand and start to move away, but Darian grabs my wrist, pulling me back. I pause, wishing I could offer real comfort.
"You're safe here," I promise, resting my free hand on his shoulder. His eyes meet mine, wide and terrified. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Darian. You have my word. But I have to call Julian."
He nods, releasing my wrist. I step away from him and dial Julian's number on my cell. He answers after a long time, sounding annoyed and half-asleep.
"I need you up at the house right away," I say. "Clemenza's gone and got himself killed."
Julian gives a little gasp. "Finally!" he says. "Something interesting during this dull parley! We'll be right there."
Maybe I should've called Sandro first. I do that now, and his reaction is a lot different to his younger brother's—a lot louder, too.
Julian arrives shortly after that with Leo at his side, Leo stony-faced and Julian bright and chirpy. I give them Darian's keys and they make their own way to Clemenza's room.
They don't take long. On their return, Julian looks slightly less excited by events, and when he speaks, I start to understand why. "This is rather inconvenient," he sighs, "not least because poor Darian here is going to look rather suspicious."
I've been sitting on the arm of the chair, making sure Darian is okay, but now I jerk my head up. "What? Why?"
"He has a key that opens any door—almostany door—in Redwood Manor, and he found the body. And, of course, he's had a fewcontretempswith Clemenza in the last two days."
"If Darian had cause to kill anyone, it'd be that asshole Russo," I snap. "And Jesus, look at him." I stab a finger toward Darian,who jumps a little. "Does he look like a killer to you?" I thought Julian would be on our side, not immediately start jumping to conclusions.
"Unfortunately, Darian looks exactly like someone who has just killed for the first time and discovered they don't have the stomach for it," Julian says meditatively, staring closely at him.
Darian gives a little cry, and I put my arm around him instinctively.
"For goodness' sake," Julian says, a little testy now, "OfcourseI don't think he did it. I'm just saying, he's a convenient scapegoat for whoever did. Don't you agree, Leo?"
Leo looks grim. "I think we should wait till Sandro gets here to start anything."
Finally, some sense.
"Oh, yes," Julian says. "I'm sure my big brother will be very calm about the Clemenza corpse, a model of restraint. But in the meantime, it would behoove Darian to get his alibi straight. The blood has mostly dried. This kill happened several hours ago."
"Then that's okay," I say at once, "since Darian was with me all night, right up until six or so, when he got up to start his day."
No one says anything, but Julian's unblinking stare gets to me after a few seconds.
"What?" I challenge.
"Darian was with you all night?"
"You heard me."
"You were…fucking, were you? All night?"
"You want a list of positions?" I snap.
"Hey." Leo's gruff warning reminds me that Julian isn't just some prying asshole. He's Darian's boss—andmy superior in the Family.
Still, I don't like where he's going with these questions. "It's none of your goddamn business," I tell him with a little less heat, "but…yeah."
