Private Rome

Chapter 49

“You’re convincing,” I said, “but the problem I have is that Father Brambilla told Matteo Ricci you wanted him and Luna warned off the Lombardi investigation. You didn’t want your daughter and her partner looking into the death of a Rome prosecutor.”

Antonelli’s smile faded. Now even Luna eyed him with suspicion.

“Why?” I asked. “Why wouldn’t you want them looking into Lombardi’s death?”

Antonelli stared me straight in the eye and held my gaze for a moment.

“What do you see when you look at me?” he asked.

“Someone who’s grown rich from the misery of others,” Faduma replied.

Antonelli’s eyes narrowed and a thin smile pinched his lips, but he said nothing as the servant returned, carrying another tray of food. The man cleared away our primi and then served plates of braised meat, chipped potatoes and steamed broccoli.

“Lamb shoulder,” he said before departing with the used dishes.

Antonelli’s thin smile hadn’t wavered and he stared at Faduma while the secondi were served. She held her own and eyeballed him back.

“I have acquired such wealth as I possess by giving people what they want,” Antonelli replied. He turned in my direction. “When you look at me with my daughter, what do you see, Mr. Morgan?”

Antonelli’s gaze softened as his eyes fell on Luna.

“A father,” I replied. “With love in his heart.”

He nodded. “I loved her mother very much and I love Luna more than words can say. I asked Father Brambilla to advise his old seminary student to back off the investigation only because I knew it would be dangerous for the police officers involved — mostly because my daughter is even more stubborn than I am.”

Luna shook her head to deny this and spoke volubly to her father.

“But you are, my darling,” Antonelli said. “You would never listen to me if I told you danger lay ahead of you. You would only become more suspicious and inclined to dig in your heels.”

“True,” Luna conceded grudgingly.

“So I sent a man I knew Inspector Ricci trusted, to warn him off,” Antonelli confessed. “Mostly to protect my daughter.”

“Why?” I asked. “And protect her from what?”

“Whatever got Lombardi killed,” Antonelli replied.

“Do you know why he was run off that road?” Faduma asked.

Antonelli shook his head.

“Then why warn them off?” I remarked.

“If you have played this game as long as I have, you learn to spot the signs. Murdered priests, a dead prosecutor, rumblings in the high places of Rome... someone is making a play for more of the power that tantalizes so many in this city.”

“But not you?” Faduma asked.

“This is my land. I am a farmer at heart. It keeps me grounded.”

“And even with your network and resources, you still have no idea who is behind all this?” I said.

He shook his head again. “I have moved here to the security of my family’s ancestral home in order to protect my daughter. The attempt on Matteo’s life demonstrates that whoever is behind this wants all the loose ends dealt with.”

“But why not take the battle to whoever that is?” I asked.

“Perhaps when we know their identity that will be possible, but in times of uncertainty, self-defense is the prudent course,” Antonelli replied.

I glanced at Faduma, who shared my skepticism about this measured response.

“I may not agree with my daughter’s career choice, but I honor it,” Antonelli continued. “I would never disrespect her role as a police officer by commissioning the assassination of a priest, and certainly wouldn’t order an attempt on her police partner’s life.”

Luna’s expression softened and she looked at her father with something approaching tenderness.

“You can still surprise me sometimes, Papà,” she remarked.

“Love can do that, my dear,” he replied. “I value nothing higher than your happiness and safety. Mr. Morgan, you have been manipulated by someone who does not know me into believing I would harm my daughter’s career, destroy what little trust she has in me, and make her an accomplice to the murder of innocents.”

He let his words sink in.

“So I ask you again, what do you see when you look at me?”

He took Luna’s hand and held it fondly.

For a moment I studied the man and his daughter before replying in the only way I could: “A loving father. One who is devoted to his child.”