Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“Who’s it from?”
He motions with his chin at the piece of paper that lies on top of the box.
I snatch it up and read the details.
It’s from Saverio?
“Ma’am?” The man clears his throat. “This thing weighs a ton.”
Not trusting anyone, I don’t invite him into the apartment. “You can leave it there.”
He sighs but puts the box on the doormat. “No signature is necessary.” Saluting me, he says, “Have yourself a good evening.”
“Thank you,” I reply to his back.
I wait until he’s gone before I sneak to the top of the stairs. When I’m certain there’s no one hovering downstairs, I go back and open the box.
It’s filled with … groceries.
From fresh vegetables and fruit neatly arranged in transparent containers to vacuum-packed meat and fish, there’s enough to feed a small army. On the top lies a punnet of big, red, juicy-looking strawberries. A note is stuck to the side with sticky tape.
Tearing off the piece of paper, I unfold it. The handwriting is bold and neat.
For a woman who needs to eat for two.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Saverio
When Kevin pulls up at my house, a man gets out of a car parked in the street and leans on the hood. He crosses his arms and his ankles as he watches our approach. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, but his cocky stance and the cheap suit scream detective.
“You can drop me off here,” I tell Kevin. “Pull into the garage and wait there. I’ll be leaving in ten.”
He acknowledges the instruction with a nod.
I measure my visitor before Kevin brings the car to a stop, taking in the brush cut of his blond hair and the meaty muscles beneath his jacket. It’s the bulk men who use steroids pack on, not the hard-cut definition of diligent and strenuous exercise.
He flips back a pair of aviator glasses when I get out of the car, eyeing me with a smirk when I walk over.
My tone is brusque. “Can I help you?”
“Detective Jordan.” He brushes his jacket to the side and flashes a badge attached to his belt. “Do you have a minute?”
“I’m leaving for an appointment soon.”
His tawny brown eyes hold a challenge. “I’ll make it quick.”
My smile is condescending. “Best get started then.”
“How well do you know Luigi Bianchi?”
I raise a brow. “I’m sure you already know his daughter and I were together.”
“Yes.” He studies me closely. “It was quite the breakup, but you managed to keep it out of the news.”
My smile stretches. He’s needling me to get a rise out of me in the hope I’ll lose my temper. Men act unpredictably when they’re out of control. They can let things slip they never meant to say.
When I don’t react, his jaw sets in a hard line. “It’s safe to assume you know them rather well.”
“Define well.”
“You must be close to the family if you’re still seeing them after Rachele Bianchi dropped you like a hot potato.”
Years of practice taught me how to push my emotions down. “I’m still friends with Giorgio.”
“Both you and Giorgio knew Mr. Lewis, the late owner of the Lewis accounting firm.”
I don’t deny it or ask how he knows. He’s either faking knowing it for a fact or he questioned the staff at the firm. “We met him briefly.”
“How did you meet?”
“My girlfriend recommended him. She works there.”
He narrows his gaze. “Ms. Brennan, right?”
“That’s correct.”
Tilting his head, he adopts a mock frown. “How long have you and Ms. Brennan been together?”
“Not long. As you just stated, I came out of a relationship a short while ago.”
“What business did you see Mr. Lewis about?”
“I was hoping he could manage the accounting of a new application development company that Giorgio and I co-own.”
“Could he?”
“No.” I look him straight in the eye. “He said he was too busy.”
“He didn’t have the time?”
“He didn’t have the capacity to take on more business.”
“His murder must’ve come as a shock to you,” he says, openly mocking me with his toothy grin.
I opt for honesty. “Not particularly. People get killed all the time.”
“But surely not people you know intimately.”
Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of people I knew intimately take a bullet, and more than half of those times, the bullet came from my gun. However, I don’t take the bait by admitting that I knew Lewis well. “I only met him that once.”
“Where were you on the night of his murder?”
“As I told the officer who questioned me, I had dinner at Rusty’s before walking Anya home.”
“She didn’t join you for dinner?”
“She wanted to work late.” I check my watch. “I’m afraid your minute is up. Was there anything else?”
“No.” He straightens and drops his glasses back onto his face. “Not for now.” Walking around the car, he adds as he opens the door, “Have a nice day, Mr. De Luca.”
I watch him go, committing every detail to memory. It’s always good to know your enemies. I have enough friends on the force, but I don’t lack adversaries.