‘I’m too tired for revenge,’ said Bella, and she sounded tired, too: old and exhausted.
‘Do you believe these rumours?’
‘Did I say I believed them?’ Bella shrugged. ‘Tito had many enemies, you know.’
Ruby said nothing, but she was chillingly aware of Bella’s eyes on her, gauging her reaction. She was aware of what the Danieri family was. Michael had told her about the Camorra in Naples and how it had now come onto the streets of London. It was a brotherhood, a society, older than the Mafia which had its roots in Sicily. She didn’t think for a minute that Bella was simply a sweet, doddering old woman. Like the rest of her kin, she could be lethal.
‘You were close to Michael Ward,’ said Bella.
‘Yes,’ said Ruby. ‘I was.’
‘He was married to my niece Serafina up until the time she died. She grew up here, and changed her name to Sheila. She wanted to “fit in”, you see.’
‘I know all that.’
‘Then you came along. And I think he was happy with you.’
‘I hope so.’
‘But then he died too. Violently. Perhaps your boy Kit believed that Tito gave the order to kill Michael. That Vittore or Fabio carried out that order. And for that, for the death of the man who meant so much to him, perhaps your Kit sought revenge.’
Ruby said nothing. She was too frightened to speak. Terrified of saying the wrong thing, landing Kit in the shit. If what Bella said was right, then this wouldn’t stop here.
Blood will flow.
Not Kit’s, she thought. Please not Kit’s.
‘But you know the funny thing?’ asked Bella.
Ruby shook her head dumbly.
‘No, not funny. That’s the wrong word. Sad is the right one, I think. My boys didn’t do it. They didn’t kill Michael.’
Ruby stared at the woman. Clearly, she was making excuses for Tito, Vittore and Fabio.
‘You think I am fooling myself,’ said Bella.
Ruby shook her head. ‘I think you’re protecting your sons.’
‘I am not making a feeble attempt to cover their backs.’ Bella pushed the veil back from her face, and Ruby felt shock at the sight of the poor woman’s pudgy and wrinkled face, but Bella’s eyes were hard as two black stones and they crackled with authority and intelligence. ‘Tito thought he might give the word to Vittore and Fabio, but first they came to me. Tito wanted to do it, he said, but this was my late niece’s husband, this was blood. So first he wanted to get my blessing. But I told him no. Under no circumstances. Miss Darke, none of my sons would go against their mama’s wishes.’
