Page 112 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

Bastian was still lost. “Meaning?”

“Meaning it’s only a matter of time before the people of Vernazza figure outI’ma vampire, what with everyone sniffing around these days. And it’s pretty obvious that thekilleris a vampire, and I’d prefer not to have them banging down my door and brandingmea murderer.”

She flashed a look at Aunt Agata and her knitting needles, as if to prove her point. “So, I created asyndabock. A scapegoat. I was pretty sure the murderer was you, anyway, and this would take care of the problem for good. But I assure you I haven’t killed anybody. There was no body in the kitchen when I was there. Whoever killed the mayor must have put the body there after I left.”

Whitby yowled. “That’s preposterous!”

“Nonetheless, it’s the truth as I know it.”

“As you know it!” Whitby scoffed. “Do you believe this, Bastian?”

Bastian scratched his chin, taking in Kerstin’s appearance. She swigged on the olive oil like a hamster from a water bottle, and he sensed, just as he had with Salvador, that she wasn’t a killer. She seemed genuinely happy with the fruits of her grove.

“Actually, yes,” he said. “I believe her.”

The cat rounded on him, fur standing on end. “You can’t possibly buy this cockamamie story?!”

“I admit it’s a stretch, but look at the facts. Kerstin has no motive.”

“She’s a vampire!”

Bastian gave the cat a level stare. “Which doesn’t make her a killer.”

“Thank you,” Kerstin said.

“Shhh,” Bastian told her. “You’ll only make it worse.”

Whitby opened and closed her mouth. She must see that he was right. Aunt Agata sniffed, as if satisfied with Kerstin’s response, and retrieved her wicker basket, stowing away her knitting needles. They really did look like weapons, and Bastian had no doubt now that their tips were silver.

“I have to ask,” De Luca said, gaze trained on Kerstin. “Did you see anybody else when you left the apartment? Anybody who might have wanted to hurt the mayor?”

“I came and went via the balcony. I didn’t see a soul.” Kerstin stepped closer to Bastian. “I really am sorry about framing you, but I couldn’t bear the thought of being forced to leave my grove. It took me the longest time to find somewhere that felt like home. I’d do anything to keep it.”

Bastian looked at Whitby.

“I understand,” he said. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t okay,” Aunt Agata muttered, considering Bastian with troubled eyes. “I would say that nothing has been okay in this town lately. Aunt Agata knows everything and everyone, but even I’m having trouble figuring out what’s going on with people.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Bastian said, and the shopkeeper gave him a scornful glance.

“I don’t! I blamethem.” She gestured at the street; she must mean the town. Her gaze dropped to the flowers laid in tribute outside the cat café. “If you ask me, it all started when Luna and Matteo broke up.”

“You know about that?” Whitby asked.

“Oh yes. They were together for a couple of months, started seeing each other right after she began working at Micio Micio.”

“Do you know why they broke up?” Bastian asked.

“No, but I saw it happen. They were closing up shop one evening, and I saw them arguing in this very window.” She gestured at the cat café. “I suppose that’s when Luna told him it was over, because he damn near broke the window throwing a chair. He stormed right past my shop looking like he wanted to punch somebody.”

“That sounds like Matteo,” Whitby said.

“After that, he bought flowers from me on three different occasions,” Aunt Agata continued. “The kind of flowers you buy for somebody you’re sweet on. But he stopped doing that when Luna started dating Emilio.”

Bastian felt like he’d stumbled and hit his head. “Emilio?!”

“Luna was with Emilio?” De Luca asked.