Chapter 12: The Pantry

I grew up in that pantry.

I knew every shelf in it, and I knew exactly where my mother used to keep the rolling pin.

It was on the second shelf behind the flour, at my left hand, and I kept my eyes on Ramiro's face.

"Put it down," I said.

"I can't do that." He sounded sorry. "I like you, Serafina. I did from the first lunch."

"Then why?"

"Because your father promised me the Quintero chair, and I want it."

Giulia made a small sound.

His gun pressed deeper into her dress.

"You poisoned Tadeo's coffee," I said. "You killed the cook."

"I had the cook killed. The poison was meant for you."

He smiled.

"I told your father it should be you, the wife. Then Tadeo drank it himself, the fool."

"Why would that matter to you?"

"Because I wanted him to watch you die."

I swallowed.

I put my left hand flat against the shelf.

I held my right hand out in front of me, open.

"Ramiro," I said. "Papa sent me."

His eyes flickered.

"What?"

"He sent me to tell you the plan changed. He wants her alive."

I kept my voice flat.

"You're to put the gun down and walk her out the back door."

"He said nothing about that."

"He wouldn't say it at the table, would he, with the priest sitting there?"

Ramiro frowned.

I watched him think it over.

I watched him take one quick glance at the swinging door, listening for my father's footsteps.

I took the rolling pin off the shelf and brought it down on his wrist.

The crack was loud and wet.

He screamed.

The gun hit the tile and skittered under the bottom shelf.

"Giulia, run!"

She ran, with her hands on her stomach, and I swung again and hit him across the ribs.

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