‘His widow?’ Raffano queried. ‘But was he-?’

‘It seems that he was. Recently he bought the company of a flighty piece, no different from many others who had been in his life. I’ve no doubt he paid her well, but she wanted more. She wanted marriage so that in due course she could inherit his fortune.’

‘You judge people very harshly, Salvatore. You always did.’

‘And I’m right.’

‘You know nothing about this woman.’

‘I know this.’ With a sharp movement Salvatore pushed the photograph over the table.

Raffano whistled as he took it. ‘This is her? Are you sure? It’s impossible to see her face.’

‘No, it’s a pity about that huge sun hat, but what does the face matter? Look at the body.’

‘A body to burn a man up with desire,’ Raffano agreed. ‘How did you get this?’

‘A mutual friend happened to bump into them a couple of years ago. I believe they’d just met, and my friend took a quick snap and sent it to me with a note saying this was Antonio’s latest “little fancy”.’

‘You can just see that they must have been on the beach,’ Raffano said.

‘The perfect setting for her,’ Salvatore said wryly. ‘How else could she flaunt her expensive charms? Then she whisked him off to Miami, and when she had him to herself she persuaded him to marry her.’

‘When did the marriage take place?’

‘I don’t know. No word of it reached here, which was probably her doing. She must have known that if his family knew about the wedding they’d have put a stop to it.’

‘I wonder how,’ Raffano pointed out. ‘Antonio was in his sixties, not a teenager to obey your orders.’

‘I’d have stopped it, I promise you. There are ways.’

‘Legal ways? Civilised ways?’ Raffano asked, giving him a curious look.

‘Effective ways,’ Salvatore said with a harsh grin. ‘Trust me for that.’