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“I had nothing to do with that. It was Augusto who did it, and he got fired.”
“What if someone comes looking for Dante? What if he talks?”
Renzo waved her off. “Vergenti will never believe him.”
“What about Big Nose? He said he didn’t see any carriage.”
“Vergenti didn’t hear him. And what value would anyone place on his word against mine? Among lunatics, my credibility soars.” Renzo laughed, but Teresa didn’t.
“Still, he could tell the other staff. Someone might ask questions.”
“Don’t worry.” Renzo had more important things on his mind. “My dear, since our success with Prince Pinocchio, I’ve been thinking we could do it again and—”
“Haven’t you been listening?” Teresa glared at him as only a wife could. “Never,eversay that again. We’ll never do it again. I’ve been praying for forgiveness.”
Renzo chuckled. “You think we’ll burn in hell?”
“I knowyouwill.” Teresa stormed out of the staff room, and Renzowatched her go, mulling it over. He’d lost faith in God long ago. A sane conclusion, for anyone who worked in the madhouse.
Dante had just been servedbreakfast, a piece of stale bread and strawberry jam on a metal plate pushed through the door. He pounced on the plate, knowing he had to get it before the rats. He picked up the bread, swiped it through the jam, and stuffed it into his mouth. The strawberry tasted sweet, and he wished it would last forever, but it didn’t.
Suddenly a rat scurried from the corner, its pointed nose twitching. Dante scooted backward with the plate. The rat raced toward him, then stopped at the rope attached to his ankle. There was a glob of strawberry jam on top, which must have fallen.
The rat started eating the jam with sharp white teeth. Dante knew how their teeth felt because the rats bit him at night, leaving welts on his ankles. He licked his plate quickly, getting the last of the jam. Meanwhile, another rat raced from its nest, then another and another, swarming on the rope.
Dante edged away, frightened. The rats finished the jam on the rope and chewed the rope itself.
Roland is fierce and Oliver is wise.
Dante was starting to think he should be both.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Franco trotted Arabo with Roberto lagging behind on the mare. They had left thegiardinoand were making their way to the village on a dusty road. Prickly pear cactus, its paddles gray-green with pink flowers, flanked the road with agave, aloe, and yucca. Sometimes Sicily looked like a desert to Franco, but she never lost her wild and primitive beauty.
The brothers still hadn’t spoken, and Franco was beginning to think his twin would never talk to him again. “Roberto, pick up the pace, would you? We need to get to the piazza.”
“We have something to discuss, don’t you think? It’s why I came with you on this stupid errand.”
“This stupid errand is my job.”
“Iseverythingabout work? Aren’t some things more important, like me?”
“Okay, fine.” Franco halted Arabo. Roberto caught up, and the twins walked side-by-side on the horses.
“Franco, explain to me why you killed that man.”
“I told you, it was necessary.”
Roberto scoffed. “For a new horse? Is that why?”
“No, I wouldn’t kill a man for a horse.”
“I’m surprised, you love horses. Then why?”
“It’s better if you don’t know. Trust me.”
“I used to.” Roberto shot him a look. “You said it was business. What could possibly justify an unprovoked murder? Who was he?”
