Bruno’s face goes pale. “I-I always suspected, but the doctors and the medical staff said it was a heart attack. It just always seemed suspicious to me.”
“I think whoever is trying to kill us now is associated with the person who killed Dad.” I take a deep breath. “I’m pretty sure it was cyanide poisoning.”
“Cazzo.” Bruno whispers.
“Did you know Francesca Marconi?”
Bruno shakes his head.
“Or anything about the assassination of the Marconi Family?
“That was before my time with your family. I started working for your father about a year after it happened. He had fired his other head of security and a friend of his recommended me. Your father never talked about what he did. Everyone said the Marconis had turned on the families and were working with the feds. They were selling information about the families so they wouldn’t wind up behind bars. Salvatore would know more about it. He has been with your father longer than me.”
I stand up. “Grazie, Bruno.” I give him a hug.
“Where are you off to now, Farfalla?”
“I have to go see Nonna. Make sure you stay home and rest.”
He scowls at me.
“That’s an order.” I lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek.
“Alright, alright. I’m going to gain weight staying home and Maria constantly cooking for me.”
“No, you won’t.” I chuckle and head for the door.
“Cipi?”
I turn around. “Yes?”
“When you find the devil behind all of this, make sure you kill him. Okay. No trial. No mercy.”
I give him a smile. “You know I will.”
He gives me a weak grin. “That’s my girl.”
Chapter thirty-three
The tight coil of dread strangles my lungs as Mario drives us back to the compound.
Bruno’s comments during our chat make me feel like a failure.
Every time someone in this family asks me for an update on the case, I can’t give them an answer.
We’re grasping at straws and nothing seems to add up.
Once Mario drops me off at home, I cross the street to Nonna and Mama’s house. Mama is out shopping right now and Nonna is home alone.
My footsteps echo on the porch as I press the doorbell.
No answer.
My heart starts to pound and the cold chill of ‘what ifs’ slither down my spine. Forcing myself to stay calm, I walk around the side of the house into the backyard, and breathe a sigh of relief as I find her tending to her roses.
“Nonna.” I call.
She looks up and smiles. “Ey, Cipi.” She comes over to me and gives me a hug.
