Giovanni returned to Joanne’s side, and she gasped as she watched Carla enter the church dressed in black, removing her sunglasses and genuflecting before she took her seat. She looked the part of the glamorous mistress, although she hadn’t given much thought for her lover’s wife and children.
“What’s happening about Ponti’s funeral?” she asked Giovanni. “Before his accident, Dante said he would be helping your sister take care of it.”
“Nothing to worry about there, Joanne. Ponti’s brother has turned up from Verona.”
“Did the police discover who shot him?”
“It was Carlo Brunelli, a local businessman involved in a crime protection racket here that Ponti had tried to muscle in on. The polizia have arrested him and his associates. There will be a big trial, I have no doubt. Hopefully Brunelli will go to jail for a long time, and a lot of people on the island will be glad to be rid of Ponti too.”
Joanne let out a breath, a shot of guilt running through her veins because she had suspected Dante of killing the man. It had only been a brief moment, but how could she have doubted him? Yet, hadn’t he doubted her too?
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