Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
The moment he admitted the teenager had taken a punch at Amaranthe, Salvatore was stricken with guilt. I’m sorry, Geno. Amara. I shouldn’t have said that to them.
They already have that information, or they wouldn’t be here to confirm it. We had to admit it to them, or they’d believe we’re trying to hide it, Geno said. But, Amara, you don’t say one word without Raffaele’s consent until we know what this is about. Who knows what that hideous little girl has done now.
“Ms. Aubert, would you tell me what happened?” Terence asked. He wandered over to the sideboard and lifted the lid on the lasagna, inhaling the aroma.
“Amaranthe, don’t answer his question,” Raffaele interrupted. “We’ve been more than cooperative. Put the lid back down, Detective. Why exactly are you here? I’m not allowing my clients to answer any further questions until you let us know what is going on.”
“It’s odd that neither Lucca nor Salvatore mentioned Ms. Marchel as being part of the problem,” Patrick observed.
Geno sighed. “Seriously, Patrick? Detective Laker asked if there had been a problem with a teenage girl named Jennifer Porthman, not if Ms. Marchel was involved. Had that question been asked, it would have been answered.”
“Did Ms. Marchel file a complaint against any of my clients?” Raffaele asked.
“No,” Terence assured them.
“Spit it out or we’re done,” Raffaele snapped. “We’ll make an appointment to meet with you at the station if you want any other questions answered.”
“Geno.” Patrick ignored Raffaele. “Who the hell has it in for you? Who wants you implicated in murder? Every time I turn around, someone you know is either robbed or murdered and your name comes up.”
“Patrick,” Terence cautioned.
“For God’s sake, Terence. We checked his alibi every time. We know where he was tonight. We saw him.”
“He’s a billionaire. He can pay for whatever he wants.”
Good cop, bad cop routine in your own dining room? Stefano asked.
“I’ve known Geno a long time, Terence, and in any case, I can tell you, someone’s out to get him, not the other way around.” Patrick looked stricken. For the first time Geno could see that he mattered to the detective. “I’m serious, somebody either wants you dead or in prison. Tonight, Lyna Marchel was murdered in the same way your parents were murdered. In the same way Noemi and Caio Diliberto were murdered. In the same way Viola and Marcelle Marino were murdered. A similar weapon was used on the young woman murdered on the porch of Miranda’s Miracles.”
Beside him, Amaranthe placed her fork on her plate and turned her face up to his, shock in her eyes. “Lyna? Why would anyone kill Lyna?”
“They dipped her finger in blood and wrote your name, Geno, as if she named you as her killer,” Patrick persisted. “It was your good luck that you went straight from the studio to your home, and every traffic light confirmed it, and then the security cameras in this building confirmed it. Your car was easy to track. The time of her death was easy to establish. At that time, you were going into the condo. You have enemies, Geno. I want to know who they are.”
“Patrick, if I knew who killed my parents, don’t you think I’d tell you? If I had a clue who was doing this, targeting people who matter to me.” Geno gestured around the table to his cousins. “I was afraid to have my brothers here in New York with me. I asked them to stay away. I was afraid to have my cousins and their wives here. I don’t like Amaranthe going to work. She’s supposed to perform and needs to go to rehearsal. It terrifies me to have her go because I’m afraid she’s a target. Honestly, I even worry about you,” Geno admitted. “That someone might find out you matter to me.”
There was a short silence. “The lasagna smells good,” Terence said hopefully, looking at Raffaele. “I’m practically family with that admission.”
“Patrick’s family. You’re—I don’t know what you are,” Raffaele denied. “Fine, sit down. Food’s great. Amara, I’m sorry about Ms. Marchel. You’ve been having a difficult time of it.”
Terence hastily filled a plate with food and sank into a vacant chair. “We’ve been at this for hours. I’m starving.”
Patrick sat, but he didn’t take any food. He looked more distressed than ever. “Geno, your people must have files on threats made to you.”
Francesca got up, moved around the table to the sideboard and immediately fixed a plate of food for the detective.
“I’m Stefano Ferraro,” Stefano introduced himself, “Geno’s cousin. My brother Taviano; his wife, Nicoletta; my wife, Francesca. We’ve looked at all those threats numerous times. We have teams of investigators looking at them. We have other cousins with teams of investigators looking at them. Like you, we feel the threat to Geno and his family is very real. We have no idea why, and we’re searching for a reason.”