The Dark Heart of Florence by Tasha Alexander (ebook reader screen TXT) 📕

strength I did not know I possessed, I struck him, hard enough that his cheek blazed red, hard enough that one of my rings cut a thin line across his face. He looked at me in disbelief. “You are crazed with grief. Sit down, I will hear your confession.”

“You will leave my house. Now. And never return.”

“You don’t mean that. You don’t know what you want you—” I raised my hand again. He stepped back. “You will regret this.”

“My only regret is that I did not recognize the depths of your evil sooner.”

“You cannot speak to me like that, Mina. You—”

I turned away from him and left the room, slamming the door behind me, my heart pounding. A maid, standing on the gallery landing asked if I needed assistance.

“Inform all the servants that they must never again let Father Cambio into this house. No matter what he says, no matter what he claims, no matter how many times he comes. His presence is hateful to me and this house is closed to him forever.”

She nodded and started to walk away, presumably to do as I asked, but then she turned around and opened the door to the Sala dei Pappagalli. “My mistress would have you leave,” she said. “Will you go quietly or shall I summon someone to encourage you?”

The priest stormed out of the room, pausing to turn around and look at me when he reached the top of the stairs. He said nothing, but his expression told me I now had a powerful enemy. Blood trickled from the slash on his face. I shook my head. Never had woman been faced with a less worthy adversary.

 Florence,

190327

When Carlo told us he was in possession of the gun that killed Signore di Taro, Cécile gasped. My own reaction was more guarded. Could we trust the boy? Even if he produced the weapon, could we prove it was the one used in the murder?

“How do you know it’s the same gun?” I asked, speaking quietly so as not to alarm the other patrons of the café.

“What other gun would have been flung to the ground just behind the building shortly after the murder?” He looked defiant.

“Tell me exactly what happened.”

“I was milling around that morning, minding my own business. Didn’t have much of anything to do, so I just let myself wander. I turned into Signore di Taro’s street for no reason in particular. Because it was there, I suppose. I walked up and down twice and was halfway back up again when I heard the shots. Two of them, one right after the other.”

“Could you tell where they were coming from?” I asked.

“Not exactly, no,” he said. “The sound bounced around a bit. But I figure it must have been from a front room in one of the buildings. Otherwise, how could I have heard them? Probably wouldn’t have noticed anything if the windows hadn’t been open.”

“How do you know the windows were open?”

He shrugged. “If they weren’t, the sound wouldn’t have been bouncing around, would it?”

It was a keen observation. “Did you look to see which buildings had open windows?”

“I can’t say I did.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Truth is, I was a bit scared, but I won’t admit that to anyone ever again, all right? So don’t go telling my friends.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said. “It’s perfectly natural to be frightened in such a situation. What did you do next?”

“I ran as fast as I could to the main street, and once I got there, didn’t stop for more than a mile. Then, when I did, I thought maybe I should try to see what had happened, so I went back. This time, though, I went into the alley that runs behind those houses.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I was afraid that whoever fired the shots might be coming out the front door, since they were fired from the front, at least that’s what I thought. If he knew what I heard, he might decide to shoot me, too, mightn’t he?”

“The situation certainly called for an abundance of caution,” Cécile said.

The boy nodded. “Exactly, signora. There was no one else in the alley, not even a cat. It was completely empty. I crept along, keeping quiet. And then I saw it.”

“The gun?” I asked.

“Yes. It was right there on the ground. Must have been flung out a window.”

“So you picked it up?”

“I did.”

“I understand that you tried to report what you’d heard,” I said. “Did you go to the police?”

“Well, I saw one of them right after I left the alley, which seemed like a sign, telling me what to do, so I went up to him and said what I’d seen. He didn’t believe me and said that making up stories could land me in jail.”

“Didn’t you show him the gun?” I asked. “Surely that would have helped persuade him you were telling the truth.”

“No, he only would’ve taken it away from me.”

“What did you do with it?”

“I’ve got a place where I hide things. It’s there.”

I needed to tread carefully. Colin should examine the weapon, and it seemed more plausible that I could persuade the boy to allow that than to get him to agree to speak to the police again. If I first suggested the latter, I might be able to bring him around to the former. “Now would be a good time to bring it to the police. They won’t doubt you so readily, given that they know Signore di Taro was murdered.”

“I’m not going back to the police. If I tell them that it’s the gun that killed him, they might decide I was the one who did it.”

“I can’t believe they’d think you’re a murderer,” Cécile said.

“I’ve got a reputation, signora,” he said, sounding rather proud. “So they might indeed think I’m a ruthless killer.”

Between his short stature, skinny build, and the incomprehensible odds that he could have managed to acquire a gun in ordinary circumstances, this seemed