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“Ma’am,” I said, interrupting her as gently as possible, “could we speak in private?”
“So you can slip a stiletto in my front, Signor? I think not.”
I glanced at her consigliere and all the men surrounding her on the dais. I didn’t trust a single one of them with what I was about to say. “I have a piece of delicate information – ”
“Delicate or indelicate, I trust my men with my life. Anything you can say in front of me, you can say in front of them.”
Great.
I weighed what I was about to do.
I wondered if Niccolo and Dario would approve…
Screw it.
I didn’t see what other choice I had.
“We have reason to believe that my uncle – ”
“Fausto,” she interrupted me with a huge smile – like they were old friends. “How is he these days?”
“Treacherous, ma’am,” I said darkly.
“Oh?” she asked in mild surprise.
“We believe it was him who – ”
“Believe it was he,” she interrupted.
I frowned at her, not quite understanding.
“…what?”
“It is not ‘we believe it was him,’” she said snootily. “It is ‘we believe it was he.’”
I couldn’t believe it.
Here I was, about to tell her that my uncle was a traitor and a viper –
And she was acting like an old schoolmarm.
The Widow continued her lecture. “Precision in speech is a virtue, Signor Rosolini. Pay attention to your grammar, or risk not being taken seriously.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, Signora,” I replied darkly.
I couldn’t help myself.
At least it was only about 1% as bad as what Adriano would have said.
The Widow raised her nose even higher in the air as she glared down at me.
“You do so remind me of my granddaughter. She’s sarcastic, too.” Then the Widow relented. “So… what, exactly, do you believe your uncle has done?”
“Fausto conspired with a Sicilian named Mezzasalma to murder the Agrella family… and then they tried to pin it on me and my brothers.”
From the look on the Widow’s face, this time I’d actually shocked her.
Before she could say anything, her consigliere leaned over and whispered something in her ear – and covered his lips with his hand.
