Page 34 of Bonded in Death

“Everything you can tell us helps. He was wounded in the war?”

“Wounded? No, he did the… cyber. Dangerous, yes, dangerous times, but Gio didn’t fight. Not a solider but a technician?”

“He has a wound, an old wound.” Eve touched a hand to her side.

“Yes, the scar. An accident, a fall from his scooter—yes, that samespring, after Paolo and before Gio comes again. A rainy night, and someone drove too fast and close, wet roads, and he wrecked his scooter. He hurts the ribs, and has the cut. Ah, and he broke these two fingers in the fall.”

She held up her index and middle fingers. “They were still healing when he came to see us. And the wound on his side, infected a little. My sister treated it the country way, and it healed. A scar, but it healed.”

“And he had other injuries?”

She looked blank. “No. Oh, yes, he sprained his ankle in the garden three years gone. And once, he returns from a trip with his eye blackened. He walked into the wall.” She laughed a little. “Up in the middle of the night, thinking home, and forgot where the wall was in the hotel. You mean this?”

“It’s helpful” was all Eve said. “What about the Wasp?”

She got the reaction she’d expected. A blank frown.

“In the garden? They will build their nest sometimes. Gio doesn’t like to kill them—he says they serve a purpose. But he doesn’t want them to sting the children, so he knocks down their nest, and tells them to build a new one but not in the garden.”

“Did he ever mention anyone he called Fawn, or Rabbit, or Hawk?”

“No. I would remember such odd names as those.”

“How many languages did he speak?”

“Oh, Italian, of course, and English as good as the children’s—he insisted they learn to speak English very well.”

“He spoke better English than any of us.”

She smiled at her son. “He had a gift. He speaks very good French, Spanish as well. Some German, even some Ukrainian. It helps, you see, for his work. He is often sent to places where they speak another language, and Gio is very good with languages.”

“How did this friend contact him?”

“I never thought to ask.” This clearly distressed her. “I never thought to ask him this.”

“Did this friend ever contact him before?”

“He never said. But I think a good friend,Tenente, as he spoke of an oath. A promise made, and he left so quickly. I know worried, but also pleased. Pleased to see this friend again. How could he be so pleased if this was his killer?”

“He wasn’t a stupid man,” his son added. “He may not have fought in the wars, but he worked through them, lived through them, kept his family safe. He worked in cybersecurity, rooting out those who commit crimes.”

“I don’t for a minute think Giovanni Rossi was a stupid man. I think his killer used his loyalty as a weapon against him. It’s possible this contact wasn’t made by the friend, but someone posing as his friend. Or, if not, that this person had no loyalty.

“What about coworkers? Do you know anyone he worked with at the security company?”

“Yes, of course. His supervisor the last few years, before he retired. Some of the young ones. Many had, like Gio, retired. And the younger came in. He enjoyed them, working with them, being around them. He said they kept him—”

Once again she looked to her son.

“On his toes.”

“Sì, giusto.”

“If you could give me some names. Coworkers—the ones who retired, like he did. Some of the others he might have worked closely with. Team members.”

“Yes, I can do this, if it helps.”

“I’d appreciate it. How long are you staying in New York?”

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