that the only reason I live in the apartment on Via San Lorenzo instead of living in this house, half of which I rightfully owned before you saw fit to kick me out, is to please you and your regal consort, Matilda. Five minutes of your time won’t kill you.”
Quietly, Guglielmo had come in and stood now in a corner of the room.
“Miss Berilli is leaving.” Giuseppe said. “See her to the door.”
“Not before I’ve said what I came to say,” Eugenia stated.
Giuseppe cupped his hands on his ears.
Guglielmo approached Eugenia. “This way, Miss,” he said, bowing.
Eugenia took one step sideways. “Have you heard about that nurse, Giuseppe, what’s her name …?”
“What nurse?” Giuseppe whined.
“Doctor Sciaccaluga’s nurse.”
Giuseppe showed a hint of interest. “What about Doctor Sciaccaluga’s nurse?”
“She’s dead.”
“What’s her name again?” Giuseppe asked.
“Palmira Bevilacqua.”
“Palmira Bevilacqua,” he repeated. “I must have met her if she worked for Doctor Sciaccaluga. I can’t remember her face though.”
“Her face is not important,” Eugenia said. “The important thing is that she’s dead and—
“Was she sick?” he asked, slumping back into the armchair.
“Not for long,” Eugenia explained. “Her death was quite sudden, I understand. Now, what do you think of this: a certain Father Camillo is going to hold Palmira’s funeral in the cathedral. Do you understand? In the cathedral!”
“Unusual,” Giuseppe admitted.
“Unusual? I say it’s scandalous,” Eugenia said. “I was thinking of having a conversation with the Archbishop on the subject. Perhaps you should do the same. Privileges are privileges. What is the world coming to these days?”
“All right,” Giuseppe conceded. “I’ll talk to the Archbishop. Will you please leave now? Guglielmo!”
“You should also talk to Doctor Sciaccaluga,” Eugenia went on, “and find out if he’s the one who arranged the funeral.” She grimaced, “You are friends with him, are you not?”
“I’ll ask him as soon as I see him,” Giuseppe replied, ignoring the mockery in his sister’s voice. “Happy? Now go!”
“I see,” Eugenia mumbled. “You think I’m a nuisance. Fine. I’ll go.” She took the parasol from Guglielmo’s hand and marched to the house door, which she opened without waiting for the butler to do the honors.
“Are you leaving?” a quivering voice asked as Eugenia was about to set foot outside.
Out of the corner of her eye, Eugenia caught a glimpse of Matilda Pellettieri, Giuseppe’s wife, standing in the left corner of the foyer. She was wearing a blue silk dress with white lace along the hem and the neckline. Both the dress style and color enhanced her gracious tall figure and the intensity of her blue-green eyes. Her silvery hair was gathered in a bun fastened with three ivory pins carved in delicate filigree.
“Yes,” Eugenia said brusquely, “I’m leaving. I came to see your husband, but he’s in a bad mood, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Matilda approached her at the door. “I did notice,” she said. “He has been in that mood for several days. He doesn’t talk to anyone and barely eats. All he does is spread poultices on his shoulder, ten times a day. I’m sure it’s still sore from the horse accident, but ten times a day … Doctor Sciaccaluga said three times a day. Giuseppe isn’t listening to anyone. Did he say anything to you?”
Eugenia shook her head. “Only that he wants to be alone. He doesn’t look sick, if you want my opinion, but he didn’t go to the office today, so something isn’t right.”
“He didn’t go yesterday either,” said a disconsolate Matilda.
“He looked … scared,” Eugenia said. “Perhaps that horse frightened him more than we think.” She paused then lowered her voice. “Or the anniversary of Caterina’s death is tearing him apart.”
“Perhaps,” Matilda murmured. “I must say, I’ve never seen Giuseppe skip work two days in a row. He even went to the office the day after Caterina’s funeral. Now he acts like he doesn’t care about his profession anymore.”
Eugenia’s expression hardened. “We must find out what’s eating him. People are talking about the D’Onofrio’s case. My neighbor asked me about it this morning. She said that Giuseppe used to be such a good lawyer. Used to be, can you believe it?”
“He has been neglecting everything recently,” Matilda said sadly, “I don’t know why.”
“If you ask me,” Eugenia quipped, “Doctor Sciaccaluga has a bad influence on Giuseppe. I still don’t see the reason for their friendship to continue.”
“Me neither,” Matilda sighed.
Eugenia’s voice betrayed her anger. “If Giuseppe keeps acting this way, he will ruin his reputation as a lawyer and that of the family along with it. I