Page 57 of Iron Crown

“Ma’am,” he said. He opened his mouth to speak more, then closed it again. Then he sighed, “Mr. Green told me that you are free to do whatever you want and go wherever you want because you are the lady of the house. But, can I give you some advice?”

I looked at him, a little offended by his impudence, but also curious about what he had to say. I nodded for him to go on.

“Don’t go in there right now. I don’t care if you listen at the door, but I don’t think you should go in there until he comes out.”

He looked away from me, his eyes down at his feet.

“I’m really good at keeping secrets, ma’am,” he said, his voice lower than before. “Please, just… don’t go in.”

I stared at the door, my mouth hanging open.

“And when he comes out,” Kieran added, his face pulled down in a sad little frown, “Please… be gentle with him. Boss is a tough man, but this…”

He shook his head.

The picture was becoming clearer now.

I placed my back to the wall, facing outwardin the same direction as Kieran.

“Do you want to take the chair?” Kieran offered as he began to rise to his feet.

I waved him back down, as I slid to the floor, just… listening… to the tragedy unfolding on the other side.

I didn’t know who I felt sorry for. For Morelli? For Eoghan?

No, I wasn’t aching for either of them.

Strangely enough, I ached for Cosima. She would be devastated.

Chapter seventeen

Damned All The Rest

Eoghan

Neither of us said the words. Neither of us acknowledged what had come to pass. We simply talked as we always had, ignoring the ticking of the doomsday clock that matched the beat of my pulse.

We were two men on a runaway train on a long bridge that would end in a sudden drop. While everyone fruitlessly tried to escape, to scream, to beg the heavens for a better fate, we were here. Sitting, having a drink.

We had accepted our fate long ago, but neither of us wished to say it out loud and ruin what was left of this tragic friendship.

“I have something for you.” I reached into the pocket of my blazer, to the small stack of photographs I’d taken from Vasiliev. “I know you’ve been eager for word of Cosima. Well…” I snapped the pictures in my hand. “I’ve got this for you.”

I handed them to him. Each photograph was as large as printer paper, some blown up on small details, because I wanted him to see everything with his poor eyesight.

He deserved every detail he could derive from this gift.

“What’s this?” Morelli said in delight after the first sip of his drink.

He reached his shaky hand towards it and stared at the first photo.

It wasn’t much. A simple one of Cosima Durante, standing near her home. Her hand on a ripe, large belly.

“What is this?” Morelli asked again, his tone more somber now, as he flipped to the next image.

Cosima was in a hospital gown, holding a baby in her arms.

The next was of that mother and child. The baby wore a frilly christening gown, as Cosima stood,somber-faced, in front of a glorious panel of stained glass windows. The baby was bundled in miles of lace.

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