Page 109 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

Arianna clutched the bag to her chest. “Nothing.”

“Was it more olive oil?” Bastian asked, all amusement gone from his voice.

“Oh, I do love Kerstin’s oil,” Aunt Agata said.

“Have you been to our apartment?” Bastian pressed. “Did you stage the kitchen like that?”

Arianna’s face grew tight. “I don’t even know where your apartment is.”

“No? Then why does that smell keep following us around everywhere we go? It was all over the apartment when we found the mayor. That’s what the occult artifacts planted in the kitchen smelled like.”

Angry tears shone in Arianna’s eyes. “What exactly is it you’re accusing me of?”

“Just show us what’s in the bag,” De Luca said, reaching for the straps. Arianna tried to pull away, snapping at him in Italian. He said something back, and they wrestled with the bag. De Luca yanked hard and the bag flew from Arianna’s arms.

It burst open on impact with the cobbles, scattering hard little brown objects across the ground.

“Merda!” Arianna bent down, scrabbling for the objects and stuffing them back into the freezer bag.

“What is this?” Whitby asked, poking one of the frozen morsels with her paw. “It looks like a shriveled walnut.”

“It’s a prune,” Bastian said. Even through the layer of ice, he smelled the dehydrated fruit.

“A prune?” Aunt Agata said, picking one up and raising it to her nose.

Arianna muttered something under her breath as she snatched the object from Aunt Agata’s hand, cramming it into the bag. She looked flustered, her gaze sharp with worry and something else. Guilt? Bastian couldn’t imagine why she would be feeling guilty about prunes, unless they were supposed to be a secret?

“Oh no,” he said, his voice gravelly with amusement. “That’s too good.”

“What’s too good?” Whitby asked.

“The prunes…they’re the secret ingredient, aren’t they? They’re the special something in the gelato that really makes it pop.”

“What?” Arianna said, her cheeks now puce. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bastian laughed, because her reaction made it so obvious. “Oh my. No wonder your family kept that under wraps. Not thesexiestsecret ingredient I’ve ever heard of, but certainly one of the most surprising. I’m assuming Kerstin is your supplier.”

Arianna looked like she wanted to be sick. She held on to thebag like a shield. Kerstin made a disappointed face as she sucked up the dregs of the bottle. She reached into her pocket and removed another.

“I need to get back to work,” Arianna said. “And you”—she jabbed a finger at De Luca—“need to find Enzo.”

She turned and strode off toward the gelateria.

“I would never have guessed it was prunes,” Aunt Agata said. “Funny how the truth is often so mundane. Now all I’m going to taste when I eat gelato is old plums.”

Kerstin unscrewed the lid of her second bottle and the aroma of olive oil filled Bastian’s nostrils. He clenched his fists, his patience thinning as he turned to her. Had the answer been in front of them this whole time?

“Was it you?” he asked. “Were you the one in my apartment earlier today?”

“Apartment?” Aunt Agata said, holding her knitting basket tight. Bastian wished she would butt out.

Kerstin twirled the metal straw in the bottle, her voice wavering as she said, “You’ve found me out. How irritating. Well, at least I tried. I hope you won’t take it personally.”

They all stared at her.

Bastian’s brain filled with static, struggling to process what the woman had said. It sounded like—

“She admits it!” Whitby cried jubilantly.