The Villa

crazy about me."
    "I didn't like your father." He said it simply, without apology and without pleasure. And for that reason alone it didn't sting. "Jury's still out on you. But I do like your mother, and I really don't like Rene, or the fact that she tried to sic the cops on Pilar, and maybe on you, over this."
    "Then you'll be thrilled to know my second stop today is Rene. I need to go a round or two with her about a memorial service."
    "Boy, won't that be fun? Do you think there'll be hair pulling and biting involved?"
    "You men really get off on that kind of thing, don't you? It's just sick."
    "Yeah." He sighed, heavy and wistful, and made her laugh, the first easy, genuine laugh in days.
     
    It occurred to Sophia that she'd never been in an actual police station. Her idea of one had been fictionally generated so that she'd expected dark, dank corridors with worn linoleum; noisy, cramped offices; surly-eyed, snarling characters and the stench of bad coffee served in paper cups.
    Secretly, she'd been looking forward to the experience.
    Instead she found an office atmosphere with clean floors and wide hallways that smelled faintly of Lysol. She wouldn't have said it was quiet as a tomb, but when she walked toward the detectives' division with Ty, she could hear her heels click on the floor.
    The detectives' area was scattered with desks, utilitarian, but not scarred and dented as had been her hope. There was the scent of coffee, but it smelled fresh and rich. She did see guns, so that was something. Strapped to belts or harnessed over shoulders. It seemed odd to see them in the well-lit room where the major sound was the clicking of computer keys.
    As she scanned, she connected with Claremont. He glanced toward a door on the side of the room, then rose and walked toward them.
    "Ms. Giambelli."
    "I need to talk to you about my father. About arrangements, and your investigation."
    "When I spoke to you on the phone—"
    "I know what you told me on the phone, Detective. Basically nothing. I think I'm entitled to more information, and I'm certainly entitled to know when my father's body will be released. I'm going to tell you my next step will go over your head. I'll start using every connection I have. And believe me, my family has many connections."
    "I'm aware of that. Why don't we use the lieutenant's office." He gestured, then cursed under his breath when the side door opened and his partner walked out with Rene.
    She was magnificent in black. Pale of cheek, with her hair shining like the sun and coiled at the nape, she was the perfect picture of the society widow. Sophia imagined she'd studied the results carefully before stepping out and she hadn't been able to resist relieving the black with a delicate diamond starburst brooch.
    Sophia stared at the pin for a long moment, then snapped her attention to Rene.
    "What's she doing here?" Rene demanded. "I told you she's been harassing me. Calling me constantly, threatening me." She clenched a handkerchief in her hand. "I want to file a restraining order on her. On all of them. They murdered my poor Tony."
    "Have you been practicing that act long, Rene?" Sophia asked icily. "It still needs a little work."
    "I want police protection. They had Tony killed because of me. They're Italian. They have connections to the Mafia."
    Sophia started to laugh, a little bubble of sound at first that built and built until she couldn't stop. She staggered back and sat on the low bench along the wall. "Oh that's it, that's right. There's a hotbed of organized crime in my grandmother's house. It just took an ex-model, a social-climbing bimbo gold digger to ferret it out."
    She wasn't aware her laughter had turned to weeping, that tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I want to bury my father, Rene. Let me do that. Let me have some part in doing that, then we'll never have to see or speak to each other again."
    Rene tucked her handkerchief back in her purse. She crossed the room, a room that had gone very quiet. And waited until Sophia got to her feet again. "He belongs to me. And you'll have part of nothing."
    "Rene." Sophia reached out, sucked in a breath when her hand was slapped sharply away.
    "Mrs. Avano." Claremont's tone was a warning even as he took her arm.
    "I won't have her touch me. If you or anyone in your family calls me again, you'll deal with my lawyers." Rene threw her chin up and strolled out of the room.
    "For spite," Sophia murmured. "Just for spite."
    "Ms.