Death Bliss
I keep my eyes on the column of figures I have been pretending to study for the past twenty minutes and I wait.
The name, I know, is on one of the 1980s purchase deeds. Matteo pulled those deeds from the shelves yesterday morning, on my instruction, and I reviewed them myself before Serafina entered the room. They are stamped with the name of a Calabrian broker who handled the intermediary clauses on the transactions that funded this estate. I know the name. I have known it since I was twenty-four years old, standing in my father's study while he explained, in the same tone he used to explain the olive harvest, that the masseria had been purchased with money that did not come from olives. Th