The Villa

Tony had affairs. He may have arranged to meet someone there, to break off an affair or to…"
    "Do you know who he might have been involved with?"
    "No, I stopped looking a long time ago. But there was someone. He knew who'd called Rene that night, I'm sure of it. And he seemed edgy at the party. That was unusual for Tony. He was rarely ruffled. He was a bit rude to David Cutter, and not as sociable as was his habit. I think, looking back, he was in some sort of trouble. I don't know. I didn't want to know so I didn't do anything about it. If I had… I can't know if it would have made a difference. That's painful."
    Claremont rose. "We appreciate your cooperation, Mrs. Avano. We'd like to speak with the other members of the family now, Mr. Cutter and any members of the staff who were here during the party."
    He specifically wanted to question Sophia again. He took her alone, while his partner took David Cutter. "You didn't mention that you and your father had a heated argument on the night he was killed."
    "No, I didn't, because you didn't ask. Now that you do, I'd have to qualify. An argument is between two people over a point of disagreement. There was no argument."
    "Then how would you qualify it?"
    "Hard words. Hard words that were a long time coming. It's difficult for me, Detective, to know they're the last words I'll ever say to him. Even though they were true, even though I meant them, it's difficult. I was angry. He'd been married hours after the divorce from my mother was final. He hadn't bothered to tell me of his plans, hadn't bothered to give my mother the courtesy of informing her, and he came to a family event with his new wife on his arm. It was careless and insensitive, and just like him. I told him so."
    "My information is you threatened him."
    "Did I? I might have. I was furious, hurt, embarrassed. Rene had cornered my mother and attacked her—verbally. There was no call for it; she had what she wanted. He let it happen. My father was brilliant at letting things happen and remaining somehow oblivious to the damage done."
     
    Word spread. Across the country, and across the Atlantic. Donato sat in the office on the first floor of his home, drank brandy and considered. The house was finally quiet, though he expected the baby would be up squalling for its breast before long.
    Gina was sleeping, and if it wasn't for that habitual middle-of-the-night circus, he could have slipped out and spent a relaxing hour with his mistress.
    Best not to risk it.
    Tony Avano was dead.
    The meeting scheduled with Margaret Bowers the next morning would and should be postponed. That would buy him time. He'd preferred keeping his business dealings with Tony. He'd known just where he stood with Tony Avano.
    Now Tony was dead, and there would be a great upheaval. There would be talk, gossip, delays, snags. He could use that to his advantage.
    He must go back to California, of course. He would have to offer his support and his sympathies to Pilar and Sophia. And assure La Signora that he would do whatever she required him to do in order to maintain Giambelli's production.
    Since it was only two days before Christmas, he would convince Gina that she must remain at home and not upset the children. Yes, that was good. And he could take his pretty lady along for company.
    No one would know the difference.
    Yes, this would give him time to figure out what had to be done, and how to do it.
    Poor Tony, he thought, and lifted his brandy. Rest in peace.
     
    Jeremy DeMorney turned down the volume on the evening news and removed his dinner jacket. He was glad he'd made it an early night. It was better to be home, alone, when the news hit, than out in public.
    Tony Avano, the worthless bastard, was dead.
    Almost a pity in a way. The current climate had made Avano ripe for picking. And Jerry had waited a good long time for it.
    Leaving behind a sorrowful ex-wife, he imagined, a merry widow and a grieving daughter. All more than he'd deserved.
    As he undressed, Jerry considered flying back out to California to attend whatever memorial service the Giambellis planned. Then dismissed the idea.
    It was a bit too well known that the late, unlamented Avano had slept with Jeremy's wife.
    Oh, they'd handled it like civilized people, of course. Not counting the split lip Jerry had given his adulterous wife as a parting gift. Divorce, financial settlement and a pretense of manners in public.
    Well, Jerry thought, they'd all excelled at