listen to that either.”
“On the other hand,” Kat added, no longer smiling, “I can tell you who killed Bishop Capuletti.”
“She . . . never . . .”—pant—“did it, Dorma.” It was Lodovico Montescue, red faced, with rivulets of sweat on his choleric face. He looked ready to keel over.
“Grandpapa!”
“Away from him . . . girl.” The old man went off into a paroxysm of coughing. Benito, quicker on the uptake than most, grabbed a chair from against the wall and sat the old man down on it. “Thank you. You’re a good lad. Listen, Dorma. My granddaughter knows nothing about this . . . killing.”
“I do.” Kat said firmly.
Lodovico shook his head. “She’s got a maggot in her head about this Marco Valdosta here. But leave my granddaughter out of this. I’ve forsworn my
“On the other hand,” Kat added, no longer smiling, “I can tell you who killed Bishop Capuletti.”
“She . . . never . . .”—pant—“did it, Dorma.” It was Lodovico Montescue, red faced, with rivulets of sweat on his choleric face. He looked ready to keel over.
“Grandpapa!”
“Away from him . . . girl.” The old man went off into a paroxysm of coughing. Benito, quicker on the uptake than most, grabbed a chair from against the wall and sat the old man down on it. “Thank you. You’re a good lad. Listen, Dorma. My granddaughter knows nothing about this . . . killing.”
“I do.” Kat said firmly.
Lodovico shook his head. “She’s got a maggot in her head about this Marco Valdosta here. But leave my granddaughter out of this. I’ve forsworn my