Page 32 of Of Murder and Matrimony

I made it halfway through my plate of food before Diego’s stare unnerved me. Setting my fork down, I pinned him with a look. “I’m fairly certain I’m safe while I eat, Diego. Why don’t you take a seat and finish your coffee?”

“I’m fine, thanks, Mrs. Neretti,” he responded, leaning against the counter's edge.

I rolled my eyes and resumed my meal. “Are you going to follow me around everywhere?”

“Pretty much.” He shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. “You have free rein of the property, within reason. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make me chase you. These shoes aren’t great for sprints.”

He kicked the heel of one shiny black dress shoe against the toe of the other. I wondered what my husband had told his men.

“Am I a flight risk?”

“You tell me.” Diego kept a neutral expression on his face but arched a brow. The man seemed unflappable.

I set my fork on my empty plate and took a drink of my coffee. Martina knew exactly how I liked it, with a bit of cream and sugar. “I’m not a flight risk. I have no plans to run.”

“Fair enough.” He rinsed his empty mug and put it in the dishwasher when Martina fussed at him, then resumed his position holding up the marble counter, waiting until I was done.

“Let’s see what trouble we can get up to.” I shot Diego a sly smile as I stood. Martina beat me to the dirty dishes, whisking them away and tutting at me when I tried to insist on helping. It had been a long time since I’d had somebody to do basic tasks for me.

I walked along the lower floor of the Neretti home, taking in the floral spring décor. I remembered it used to be decorated seasonally. “Diego?”

“Yes, Mrs. Neretti?” He stepped forward, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Has anything been touched since…” I trailed off, uncertain how to broach a sensitive topic.

Diego seemed to sense my hesitation. “Everything remains how the late Mrs. Neretti left it.”

“I see.” I continued through the rooms. Ghosts of Dante’s mother lingered there, in the small touches she left. While it didn’t feel like home to me, it probably brought a modicum of comfort to her family. I’d feel guilty about changing anything.

The family room in the back of the house had doors leading to the expansive patio. I walked through them, breathing in the warm summer air. Antonella’s roses scented the air, and I was drawn to the blooms, touching flower petals and noticing that they needed some care. After what Diego told me about the house, I’d venture a guess that nobody had dared touch the late matriarch’s flowers.

“Could I get some small pruning shears and a pair of gardening gloves?” I asked my guard, who had taken up a position against the side of the house.

Diego reached for his phone and held up a finger. “Give me a minute. I’ll see what we can do.”

He held a brief conversation in low tones, then slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Somebody will bring them to you shortly.”

While I waited, I took in the all-weather seating areas and the fancy firepit. It wasn’t so much a pit, more like a giant, hammered metal bowl with sides and a decorative grate over the wood. All that had been removed for the wedding reception.

Beyond the patio was a hedgerow, probably a good six feet tall. I remembered the pool area from summers as a child, and I wandered down to the black wrought-iron gate, peering through to see it was much as I recalled. The hedges hadn’t been there when I was younger. Now the shrubbery concealed the pool, offering privacy. There was still a little hut used for dressing and showering off to the side. Lounge chairs surrounded the pool and a smaller hot tub in the corner. Unlike years past, there were no pool toys visible. I don’t know why that surprised me. Of course, there wouldn’t be toys if children weren’t present to use them.

“We cover it in the winter, so it stays a bit warmer,” Diego explained from behind me. “It’s a bit of a cold walk, but the groundskeepers will clear a path.”

I nodded and returned to the patio just as a younger man in a black suit came hurrying across the yard, huffing and puffing as he stopped before me and held out a white bucket. Inside, there was a pair of small gardening gloves and shears.

“Thank you,” I said as I took the bucket.

The man nodded and quickly pulled his hand away so he wouldn’t accidentally touch me. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Neretti.”

Poor kid was clearly terrified to speak to me, his voice wavering. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye. I could thank my wonderful husband for the fear he’d instilled in his men.

“That’s all,” Diego barked. The younger guard snapped to attention and spun on his heel, speed-walking away.

“He wasn’t bothering me.” I set the bucket by the roses and reached in to grab the gloves, slipping them onto my hands before taking the shears.

“Doesn’t matter,” Diego said gruffly, returning to his position in the shade. “It isn’t his job to hang around.”

I sighed and turned my focus to the flowers before me, pruning the bushes methodically as best as I could. Antonella used to love explaining how to care for her beloved roses, but it was impossible to remember everything she’d tried to teach me over a decade ago.

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