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Jack, nearby, takes out his gun to cover Rizzo as well.
Sandro stands and moves to the middle of the room, observing Rizzo like a specimen in a jar. “As my brother points out, you’ve incriminated yourself. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“Fuck you, Castellani,” is all Rizzo says.
“Then you also condemn yourself.” Sandro looks around the room. “Do we all agree?”
This is no democracy. They all know that. But it’s a grave matter, putting to death one of their own, and Sandrowantstheir backing, even if he doesn’tneedit.
One by one, they nod their assent. Vito DiPietro even snarls out an old curse on Rizzo in Italian, and spits at Rizzo.
Sandro crosses the floor to the doorway. “Pedretti!” he barks, and a moment later, Max Pedretti has joined us.
“Boss?”
“Take Rizzo down to the cells. And make sure he has no way to do damage to himself. I want him alive, you understand? Jack, go with them,” he adds, turning to his right-hand man. “Make sure.”
As Jack and Pedretti drag Rizzo away, his screams and curses echoing through the grand salon, it does little to ease the tension. Because this isn’t over. Not yet. Not based on the look in Julian’s eyes.
He’s remained eerily calm despite the chaos around us—and he’s looking straight at me.
None of the other men have made a peep since Rizzo got dragged out, until Lombardo speaks. “But—why?Whywould Rizzo kill Caroline? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Julian sends me a look that reads like an apology, then takes a breath to answer.
Oh, God. I know what’s coming.
“Rizzo killed my mother because he was ordered to,” Julian says. “His orders came from Aldo Bernardi. Leo’s father.”
CHAPTER54
JULIAN
“Is that true?”Sandro demands, turning on Leo.
Leo shakes his head, but it’s not ano. It’s not even confusion. “I don’t know.”
“It’s true,” I tell him.Gently. I’ve never felt gentle before. “I spoke to all of you,” I go on, looking around the room, “about the day of my mother’s murder—and the day before, too. The meeting of all those Family heads. Rizzo told me himself that he was talking to Aldo Bernardi and Mario Brunello. Vito—you confirmed it.”
Vito gives a vigorous nod. “It’s true!” he says, sounding excited to be involved. “I saw them!”
“The maze is right next to the fishpond. On the day of the meeting, my mother spoke to Lombardo about seeing three men talking together. Bernardi, Brunello, and Rizzo.”
“But—“ Lombardo breaks in.
“Let my brother speak,” Sandro says sharply.
“I don’t believe she actually heard what they were saying,” I go on, “but they were very worried that shehadheard them. I suspect Rizzo was on the take with them, had some deal worked out with the Bernardi crews working the docks. You told me yourself, Leo,” I say, looking at him, “that when Rizzo ran the crews around the port, he played along very nicely with your Family.”
Leo doesn’t respond. He just stands there, taking it in.
“But whatever he said,” I continue, “none of the three men there wanted it getting back to Ciro. I know my mother didn’t hear it, though, because she would have told Gene. Right?” I glance at Lombardo, who is looking grayer and grayer. But he nods. “And then, I assume, Aldo Bernardi told Rizzo to kill my mother as soon as practicable—but to leave it until the next day.”
“Hell of a chance to take, if they thought she’d heard them,” Al Montanari mutters.
“Yes. But muchmorerisky to kill Ciro Castellani’s wife in the middle of a meeting with all those Family heads. Aldo certainly wouldn’t want to be connected to it, and my father was going away right after the meeting, anyway. So they took a chance. They waited. And it paid off. Ciro assumed—like Gene—that she had drowned herself. And you two,” I add, staring at Vito DiPietro and Al Montanari, “assumed Ciro hadorderedher killed, so you asked no questions.”
They have the grace to look ashamed, but I feel nothing but contempt for them. The look on Sandro’s face suggests he thinks the same.
