Free The Two Deaths of Senora Puccini by Stephen Dobyns

I found Malgiolio and Dalakis in the midst of an argument. It appeared that Malgiolio wanted some of the soldiers to be kept in the house for our protection. Dalakis said it was unnecessary, arguing that the soldiers had better things to do.
    â€œWhat’s more important than seeing to our safety?” said Malgiolio. “We could be killed here.” He stood by the liquor cabinet, slapping his fist into the palm of his left hand.
    â€œAbsolute foolishness. We’re perfectly safe as long as we stay inside.” Dalakis laughed and shook his head, as if he found something lovable about Malgiolio’s fear. “Explain it to him, Batterby. Nobody’s going to burst in here, although I expect we should close the curtains.”
    So often had I been the butt of Malgiolio’s jokes that his fear gave me a little twinge of pleasure. “Carl’s right,” I said. “What danger is there? Certainly, I’d prefer to be home, but here at least we’ll be well fed.”
    As I spoke, Dalakis crossed the room and closed the drapes, which were made of a dark blue material with pictures of birds, much like the tropical birds in the garden. “See,” he said, “now we can’t even hear the gunshots.”
    â€œI’d feel safer if I was armed,” said Malgiolio.
    I started to make some light remark about Señora Puccini’s pistol but decided against it. Most likely it would upset Malgiolio even more. The door opened and Pacheco entered.
    â€œI’ve come to escort you to the dining room. Everything is a little disturbed, as you can imagine. I’m afraid you’ll have to start your soup without me. I must do a bit more work on that fellow’s leg.”
    We passed through the hall in single file. Several soldiers looked at us sullenly. Here they were risking their lives while we were about to sit down to dinner. They’d probably had little to eat all day. The wounded man remained unconscious, his face so white that he appeared dead. We entered the dining room, which was next to the library. I was expecting it to be elaborate and so was not surprised, but behind me I could hear Dalakis catch his breath.
    It was a long room with a crystal chandelier suspended over the table. But what was particularly striking was that the table was set for the entire group—not only for us but for the six who hadn’t come and the other six who hadn’t even been expected. It was set for sixteen: a seat on either end and seven on each side. And there were flowers everywhere. The long table had four different vases with complicated arrangements of at least a dozen different flowers. Unfortunately, I have never been an admirer of cut flowers and yet the extravagance of color as well as the palpable weight of their scent took one’s breath simply as spectacle. A second door at the far end of the room opened onto the corridor that ran along the edge of the garden, and through a window I could see the cages of the tropical birds.
    â€œAs you can see, you have a wide choice of seats,” said Pacheco. “Sit where you wish. I’ll return as soon as possible.”
    We watched him leave, then looked back at the table, which was covered with a thick white cloth. Each place setting included four separate wine glasses and eight pieces of silver. Malgiolio picked up a knife, felt its weight, then returned it to the table. The napkins were dark blue linen.
    â€œShall we all sit at one end?” said Malgiolio, and immediately took his place at the far end opposite the open door giving a view of the garden. I sat down across from him and Dalakis sat on my left. The place at the head of the table we reserved for Pacheco. It was odd to look past Dalakis at that vast expanse of table with those flowers and elaborate place settings and think no one would be sitting there.
    As soon as we were seated, a young man entered through the open door with a tray of oysters.