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Natalia asked.
    “His dalliance with the wild side. He didn’t elaborate, just said it got messy on occasion.”
    “Did he tell you anything at all about his private life?”
    “A tidbit here and there. Mostly I surmised. Sometimes he arrived out of sorts—hung over from clubbing, that sort of thing—and sore in body. I am not prurient, Officer Monte. I didn’t press him for details. That said, he was a kind soul.
Simpatico
.”
    “And what of Stefano Grappi?” Natalia slipped out her notebook.
    “I knew of his relationship with Mr. Grappi, of course. But Vincente had at least one other friend as close—his boss at the museum.”
    “How did you come by that information?”
    “My husband contributed generously to the museum. When he died, I was voted his place on the board. We knew a great deal about everything and everyone there.”
    “I’m sorry to hear of your loss.”
    “Well, they come to all of us, these losses. I don’t erase decay from my garden. Some people prune blossoms as soon as they shrivel. Not I. The disintegration is as beautiful as new growth. My husband and I—we had wonderful years together. Nothing to feel sorry for. Forgive me. I don’t have many people I talk to, so I ramble when given half a chance.”
    “No, it’s interesting.”
    “A polite young woman. Anyway, what can I add?”
    “You were here the night before you found the bodies in your garden? But you didn’t see or hear anything.”
    “That’s right. I was awake, too—couldn’t sleep. But the villa’s walls are extremely thick and the air-conditioning was on, the double-pane windows shut.”
    “You didn’t look out into the garden at any point?”
    “When I can’t sleep, sometimes I make myself a cup of tea and bring it out onto the patio.”
    “Not the other night.”
    “No. Too warm and buggy.”
    “Would you be willing to look at some photos to see if you recognize anyone who may have been around your neighborhood yesterday?”
    “Why not? Do you wish me to come to your post?”
    “That won’t be necessary. Either my partner or I will bring them by and sit with you. One of us will call and arrange a convenient time.” Natalia put away her notebook.
    “Come yourself if you can. I’ll give you a tour of the house and grounds.”
    “That’s very kind.”
    “Kindness has nothing to do with it. I like the company of young people.”
    Natalia laughed. “I’m not sure I qualify.”
    “Trust me. You do.”
    Natalia called Mariel to tell her she was running late and needed to stop at the bank.
    “
Nonce problema
,” Mariel said. “I’m unpacking boxes. Take your time.”

Chapter 5
    Natalia rang off as she passed the black-draped Funerari Sanzari emporium, then noticed the man at work across the street putting up new death announcements. Bent over, holding his pants with one hand, he dipped his brush into a bucket and slapped a large sheet of paper on the wall next to some others: a white poster with no ornamentation, only a name in bold black ink. Vincente Lattaruzzo had officially joined the revered ranks of the dead.
    Natalia arrived at her bank just in time to see Lucia Ruttollo, in a chenille housecoat and sagging white socks, assisted out of the small, circular, glass enclosure where customers were scanned before entering. Natalia flashed her Carabiniere ID and stepped through, her weapon setting off beeping momentarily.
    Meanwhile Maria Fanno, Lucia Rotollo’s distant cousin, took Lucia’s arm and walked her brazenly past ten customers queued and waiting their turn at the teller’s window.
    She positioned old Mama Lucia in front of a young bank clerk, then sat on one of the chairs lined up against the wall. People were grumpy and unhappy with this, but no one dared challenge Maria. Lucia opened her pocketbook with gnarled hands and took out a wad of bills. She peeled off the rubber band and counted the notes before turning them over to the teller.
    Lucia Ruttollo’s oldest son