Chapter 16: Poison

The Castellani graves lay on a hillside above Rapallo, behind iron gates and a row of cypresses.

Ettore had said we should go before the vote, and he had not said why.

I knew why when we stopped at the last stone in the row.

ETTORE CASTELLANI, it said. BELOVED SON. LOST AT SEA.

Under it was a date two years old, and fresh lilies lay on the grass.

"My mother brings them every week," he said. "She knew."

"Then why did she say nothing?"

"Because if Dario found out, I would be dead."

I stood beside the stone with my hands in the pockets of the grey coat.

I had come to this cemetery twice before, in black, on Dario's arm.

He had never let me walk past the gates.

"Too painful," he had said both times, and he had turned me back to the car.

"I am sorry I never put a flower on it," I said. "I held a candle, and I did not know who I was holding it for."

"You held it for me."

"Not on purpose."

"No," he said. "Not on purpose."

His hand found mine in my pocket and closed over it.

It was a rough hand, and I noticed that it was warm, and that he did not let go.

I looked sideways at him, and he was looking at his own name on the stone.

"I thought I would feel something worse," he said.

"What do you feel?"

"Tired. And you beside me."

My throat closed.

His phone buzzed against his hip.

He took it out, listened, and his face changed in the space of one breath.

"When?"

"Is he breathing?"

"Keep him on his side. I am coming."

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