The Murder“Katie,” I said, “would you like to meet Roland?”
Cesare said, “You can’t be serious.”
I rose. “Whether you like it or not, he’s her kin.”
I met his gaze for a long moment, then he nodded. “Let’s go to the house,” he said to his men. “Have a man bring Miss Gardena and Master Roland to the parlor.”
One of the men jogged away. We followed more sedately, Katie gaping at the halls, the gardens, the flowers, in awe, as if she’d never seen anything like them.
Gardena and Roland were already in the parlor when we arrived. The parlor was white trimmed in black velvet and silver, with a sofa and several silver-wood armchairs around a silver-and-glass coffee table.
Gardena smiled warmly when she saw us. “Hello, Miss Katherine.” She held out a white-gloved hand. “I’m Miss Gardena. I r
