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“Come and sit. We’ll go to the sitting room.” She waves her hand toward the archway to our left.
I nod and Adrian gets up from his seat.
From his movements I see that his whole body appears robotic. His neck and right arm are skin but the rest of him is all artificial.
What the hell happened to him?
My skin crawls just looking at him and knowing the Fontaines must have done this to him.How is he alive?
We go into the sitting room which looks more like an old fashioned library.
There are bookshelves going around the room and a black leather sofa in the center.
An arm chair is next to it and a coffee table made of oak.
Adrian and Mary sit together and I sit in the armchair.
I try not to look too much at Adrian, not because the sight of him is so gruesome but because I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, or think I’m staring in any rude way.
Mostly, I can’t believe I’m here and in his presence. About to get answers.
“He will sign and I will translate but I kind of know the story,” Mary states. “If it’s okay I’ll tell you as much as I can of what happened and Adrian will cut in when he feels the need to.”
“Of course. I’m just grateful,” I answer.
Adrian signs something quickly and Mary looks at him. She nods.
“Adrian wants to know how you knew about him. He wants to know how you came by his name,” Mary explains.
I press my lips together and think back to how it all started.
My restaurant. Such a simple thing. Recipes and my restaurant. It led me here. Mother
“I cook. I was going through my mother’s stuff looking for recipes. I saw a picture of her with Mr. Russo.” I stop and reach into my purse. I brought it because it’s the only thing I have that gives me a pass to get the info.
I pull out the envelope and take out the picture. I hand it to Adrian who reaches for it with his robotic arm.
He scans over it and looks back at me. The eye on the good side of his face looks sad. The eye on his left doesn’t move all that much. I notice some scarring on the ball so I’m not quite sure if he can see through that eye although it looks like he can.
He signs to Mary who nods again and sighs.
“This picture was taken the day before she died. Adrian took it. The same day she died, the Fontaines came for him too, and William,” she explains. “They killed William.”
I take a shaky breath. “The same day?” I ask and Mary nods.
“I knew from the picture and what she wrote that what I thought happened didn’t. Or not the way I believed. I found a note and my father and I thought she killed herself.”
Adrian shakes his head and it’s clear from what expression I can make out that he’s adamant Mom would never do that.
He signs again and Mary says, “Your mother wanted to take you away. She planned to leave and had tickets booked for a flight to Europe. That was the plan. She thought you were in danger. She was going to leave straight away.”
“There was no mention of leaving.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I’m noticing too how there’s all this mention of me and her but not Dad. Wouldn’t he be in danger too?
It’s the Fontaines, but knowing how Dad was, or rather is, I can imagine him wanting to stay and ride it out. I remember when two of my cousins from Calabria were found out talking to the feds we had threats on us. That was when Mom started acting withdrawn around Dad. That was when the arguments started and it was clear she wanted out.
“She was supposed to leave,” Mary chimes in.
“What is this about Mary? And the files? What are they? I know someone killed her and made it look like a suicide. What was so important that she had to die?” I ask.
