‘They won’t eat me,’ she said.
Raphael raised an eyebrow at Jett and Max as if to clarify.
‘I’m vegetarian,’ Max lied.
‘Big breakfast,’ Jett said.
He almost rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll be right outside.’
‘De-winging butterflies,’ Jett muttered under his breath as Raphael sauntered down the aisle like a jilted groom.
Ariana sniffed. The sound scraped away the last of Jett’s resolve.
‘Are you crying because your fiancé murdered the Barbaranis’ lawyer?’ Jett dug his elbows deeper into the hard wood, feeling Mary’s disapproving gaze from above. ‘Or because your father did? Or maybe there’s a new player in town, Ariana. Did your father hold a tournament to pick a new hitman? Or was there always someone waiting on the bench for Skinner to tap out? Your father’s always one step ahead.’
‘Jett,’ Max hissed.
Ariana’s shoulders were still, the handkerchief wrapped around her hands in her lap; she was cradling it like it was a sick dove. Slowly, she turned. Her eyes were bright with fresh tears but her mouth was tight. ‘I am not my father. And I am not my fiancé.’
‘That wasn’t a no.’ Jett leant back. ‘And you clearly know what I’m talking about.’
‘The whole town knows about Clarkson Lieu,’ Ariana said, folding the handkerchief into a square. ‘And my dad didn’t even know him. He thought Antonella was going to take the case.’
‘And Forrest?’ Max said.
‘Forrest doesn’t like it when I talk about him in front of other people. Especially not people who work for the Barbaranis.’
‘I don’t work for the Barbaranis,’ Max said. ‘I’m a private investigator.’
‘Whose office is in AntonellaBarbarani’slaw firm.’
‘Seems you know a lot about the layout of Nella’s law firm,’ Jett said. ‘Maybe it was you who strung Clarkson up on the fan. Or Raphael at your request.’
This time Max’s kick was obvious to everyone. Jett’s eyes watered.
‘Mr Randall.’ Ariana’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t think you’re meant to give out specific details of a crime scene to anyone. Especially someone you’re accusing of committing the crime. See, now I know what you know.’
‘Well, you know slightly more,’ Jett said. ‘You know who killed him.’
Jett hadn’t spent much time with Ariana, didn’t know much about her besides who her parents and fiancé were. She had always been an addendum in his mind. But now he was forced to reconcile the idea that Ariana La Marca was a separate entity. She might have had just as much reason as her father to want Clarkson dead if he’d found something that threatened her family. Itwaspossible that Matteo had ordered Forrest or someone else to kill Clarkson and hadn’t told Raphael or Ariana. Raphael’s choice to not murder the Barbaranis the night of the gala couldn’t have gone down well with Matteo, even though he hadn’t been the one to order their murders. Raphael had had a clear shot at a goal and he’d turned around and walked off the field. Maybe that was enough for Matteo to ice him out about this latest kill?
But then why would he be allowed to escort Ariana to mass?
It didn’t fit. Even though he had to begrudgingly agree thatifClarkson hadn’t killed himself(if!),the La Marcas were the obvious suspects by default, something still didn’t feel right.Theydidn’t feel right. He thought ambushing Raphael on a Sunday morning would give him clarity, make him accept that whatever it was about Clarkson’s death still niggling in the back of his mind was just exhaustion and shock. But Ariana’s reaction only reinforced the feeling.
‘Clarkson Lieu was innocent,’ he said, trying to see if she reacted.
Ariana blinked. ‘No one’s innocent,’ she said, ‘especially not in this place.’ She gestured to the high eaves and stained-glass windows of the almost empty church.
‘Ariana,’ Raphael called from the doorway – an avenging angel haloed by glittering morning sun, ready to shoot an arrow through Max and Jett if they moved any closer.
She moved away, towards Raphael at the back of the church. Jett still wasn’t sure why she’d told him to leave her alone with them, but just before she got to the aisle near the First Station of the Cross painting (Jesus is condemned to death), she stopped and turned back to them.
‘I want to help you,’ Ariana said. ‘You’—she looked at Max—‘you saved me, you saved all of us. I owe you my life, so I want to help. But I can’t help with this.’ With that she let Raphael’s glare continue to pull her down the aisle, towards him. Neither of them bowed at the altar on their way out.
Back with Bessy, Max clicked in her seatbelt and stared stonily out the window. ‘Why were you such an arsehole to her? It’s not her fault her dad’s a cunt and her future husband’s a psychopath.’
‘I don’t think me holding her hand and stroking her hair while she cried was going to make a difference,’ Jett replied. ‘She knows we don’t like her – why should I pretend?’
