Page 71 of Absinthe Minded

“If you could answer the question, Mr. Marchionni. The court is aware the children’s parents are deceased, otherwise we would not be here.”

I glanced at Maggie. Big mistake. She’d gone as white as a marshmallow and looked like she’d melt into the floor at any moment. “The kids come into my room once, maybe twice a week. They miss their parents.”

“Has Chloe ever come into your room alone?”

“No.”

“Have you ever slept in her bed?”

“Fu… I mean, no.” I stared at my mother until she glanced away.

Santiago cleared his throat. “Could you tell the court the state of the household bills when you first moved into Ms. Guthrie’s home?”

How the hell did he know… My bank account.My fucking mother was on my account. She’d insisted in case something happened to me. “The bills were current, with the exception of the electric. It was one month past due.”

“What about the mortgage? Was it current?”

I smiled for the first time since I’d walked into the room. He’d screwed up, and I planned to take full-fucking advantage of it. “There isnomortgage on the house. My brother owned it free and clear.”

“You mean the Marchionni Corporation owns the house and privately financed a mortgage to Miss Guthrie after your brother passed away?”

I turned to the judge. “My folks insist we keep all of the family assets under the business name for tax purposes. My brother paid off the note on the house. Maggie, Miss Guthrie, wanted to pay something for rent so no one would accuse her of profiting from her sister’s death.”

Santiago stood with his back to my parents and winked at me. He’d given me a gift, and we both knew it. “I have nothing further.”

The judge said, “Miss Guthrie, do you have any questions for the witness?”

“I do, Your Honor.” She stood and moved from behind the table. “Mr. Marchionni, would you tell the court where Chloe thought you’d been over the previous fourteen months?”

I stared at my father. “She thought I’d gone to heaven with her mom and dad.”

Evelyn gasped and pressed her hand to her chest.

“And why is that?” Maggie glanced back at her soon to be mother-in-law.

“My father urged my brothers and me to stay away from the children.”

She went back to her table, grabbed a stack of papers and handed them to the clerk. “Your Honor, I’d like to submit the police reports from Giuseppe Marchionni Jr. and Rebecca Guthrie Marchionni’s automobile accident.”

Santiago stood. “The reports are already in evidence.”

“Not these, Your Honor. I’ve secured the preliminary notes and handwritten reports from the responding officers, as well as phone logs detailing Giuseppe Marchionni Sr.’s concerns about theaccident.”

My parents and Santiago huddled together and whispered.

The judge cleared his throat and motioned to the clerk. “I’ll accept Miss Guthrie’s documents.”

She turned back to me. “Why would a grandfather demand uncles not to visit grieving children?”

My father met my eyes as if daring me to answer. What could I do? I was under oath and the truth was spelled out in the reports. “He insisted my brother and sister-in-law were murdered.”

“Despite the police findings?”

“Yes.”

Maggie cocked her head. “Would you say your father’s actions were warranted?”

I rolled my lips in. She’d pushed a little too far. “I don’t know.”

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