Dazio lay curled and moaning on the floor.

“Come,” my brother said.

I ignored him.

I tended to Dazio. There was no dealing with Johnny when he was like this. I was angry, and the boy was hurt. Later, Zanche and I took Dazio down to Santa Monica to walk along the Palisades and look at the lights and the ocean and the young people gathered on the pier.

By the time we returned, Johnny was gone.

30.

I didn’t get on the plane to Rome. Part of the reason was that not long after the fight with my brother, we were visited by a Los Angeles homicide detective. She was an Asian woman, plainclothes, who told me the autopsy had found aconite in Paolo’s system, as well as a Chinese herb called Li Lu. Both of these were used in Eastern medicine. The problem was that in combination, they could be quite calamitous to the heart.

I was very cooperative.

I told her the treatment had been prescribed in Rome and then continued here, though Paolo had gone through some difficulty to find the herbs. When she asked where he’d gotten them, I told her I didn’t know. Someplace out in Pasadena or Long Beach, I wasn’t sure.

“He was a believer in alternative medicine,” I said. “My brother and I, both of us, we expressed our concerns. That last morning, Paolo seemed to be getting better. Then all of a sudden . . .”

She asked about Johnny, and I told her he’d gone off to Tahoe for a few days. I could see her mind clicking, but whatever her suspicions, those doubts would take time to follow up, to check out every Chinese pharmacy in greater Los Angeles, and it would be harder yet to prove Paolo hadn’t fallen victim to an error in his own judgment, or to the general quackery and misinformation that permeated the field.

“Do you know the name of the hotel?”

“No,” I said. “But I can have him call you.”

“Please.”

I didn’t tell her about the fight. That Johnny had rummaged through my room before he left and taken an envelope with a good deal of cash, emergency money I’d been carrying since Rome. So I’d been forced to arrange an international wire transfer, moving quickly, as I feared access to my husband’s accounts might be in jeopardy.

––––––––

I hadn’t given up the idea of returning to Rome, but after seeing the detective I had second thoughts. I wasn’t worried about the evidence so much as the publicity. Leaving here all of a sudden, off to Italy, might deepen suspicions. On the other hand, I was his wife. I should attend the service in Rome. Not doing so might cause even more doubts.

Then there was the matter of the will, the various settlements, and the consequences if I delayed signing too long.

I hesitated.