Chapter 21. The Interrogation

LORENZIO

"You talk to your brother often? Are you and Leandro close?"

"No. He phones me once, twice a month. Well, used to." I reclined and stared at the bald detective sitting a few feet away from me.

With his legs crossed, he chewed gum and wore a simple coat and black pants. He looked to be pushing 50. He knew I grew up and lived in Florence practically my entire life, but for the past two hours, he only asked me English questions. Perhaps someone from Interpol wanted the recording in English. "Why not? You don't get along?" Detective El Moussa asked with a straight face.

"Not really."

He nodded. "Why?"

"We don't have the same goals and outlook on plenty of things." And frequently talking to someone who only understood the language of self-interest would drive me absolutely mental.

"But who was your father's favorite? You or Leandro?" A lopsided grin stretched his pale lips.

"My sister. The youngest."

"Lessandra?"

I nodd