“And what would your name be?”
Charlotte scowls at the man they’re calling de Palo. “Who wants to know? Who are you?”
“Yes,” says Mitch. “Who are you exactly?” Standing, she’s almost backed against the settee where her knitting spills over the cushions, the wool tangling.
exactly?”De Palo swings his attention her way, his smirk oozing like slime. “I’m sure you know who I am.”
know What does she know that we don’t?
Charlotte’s eyes narrow, but Mitch shoots her a warning glance. Her voice cool. “And what do you want?”
want?”“As I said. To talk to your husband. I’m quite sure he expected to see me at some point. Why don’t you call him now?” He fishes into his pocket, producing Mitch’s phone. “You can put me onto him. Tell him Frankie de Palo has dropped by to see him.”
A single brow ar
