Luna shook her head slowly.
“In truth, she is ashamed of me,” Antonelli revealed. “She hides our connection so it does not hinder her advancement. She does not approve of who I am or what I do.”
I glanced at Luna, who gave me a sheepish nod.
“Of course, she is not so stupid that she does not know my places of business are the safest locations for her to hide.”
Antonelli confirmed what I’d suspected, that the brothel in the tower block was one of his.
“But she is stubborn like her father and will not listen when I say there are things happening that require greater security.”
“What things?” I asked.
“Rome is a city built on power,” Antonelli replied. “The pursuit of it awakens an addiction that can drive people crazy, and every so often someone has—how do you say?—an overdose that makes them crave more and more. Their hunger for power becomes insatiable and they try to take too much. More than is good for them.”
“Who is trying to take it this time?” I asked, biting another mouthful of bread.
“We don’t know,” Luna replied. “But we’re sure it has something to do with the Lombardi murder and Father Brambilla’s death.”
“Whoever it is, they made a grave mistake,” Antonelli said. “Luna is the youngest of my children. Her mother was not my wife. She was my last love, taken from me ten years ago in the most recent power struggle. One of my rivals tried to kill me, but only succeeded in taking Luna’s mother from us. He paid, of course, but I will not see my daughter suffer the same fate as her mother.”
“You think this has something to do with you?” I asked.
“In Rome all things are connected,” Antonelli said. “The people who have targeted you and Luna obviously consider you a threat. Perhaps they think you both know something.”
“About what?” I asked.
“About the reason Filippo Lombardi was killed.”
CHAPTER29
“DID YOU KNOW him?” I asked.
Antonelli tilted his head and studied me. “Is that what you really mean to find out?”
He was sharp, but I guess one didn’t rise to the height of power in Rome without an ability to read people.
“Was he corrupt?” I asked.
“I didn’t know the man, but from what I understand, he was the opposite of corrupt,” Antonelli replied, ignoring his plateful of mozzarella and soft ripe tomatoes, which he’d spread on estate bread. “Perhaps that was his problem. The stick that won’t bend is sometimes broken.”
“We found nothing,” Luna nodded. “In the time we were looking into Lombardi, we didn’t turn up anything to suggest he was dishonest. And I asked around. People said he was a decent man.”
“A jewel,” Antonelli remarked. “An honest prosecutor is a diamond to be cherished.”
I gave him a surprised look.
“Not by people like me, of course,” he added. “But by the public. How would the world be if everyone was dishonest? My daughter might be surprised to hear me talk like this. We don’t often discuss our work.”
“Because you know what I think of what you call work,” she responded.
“Our lives are kept separate, for her protection and mine,” Antonelli said. “If Lombardi was an honest prosecutor that might have been enough to get him killed.”
“So, someone had him driven off the road because of what he knew?” I suggested.
Antonelli shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“And now they’re worried your daughter and I might know it too?”
