Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE CHARITY HOSPITAL
“You sent Claire away?” Rachel asked.
Alessandro could barely hear her.
The yellowed letter trembled between his fingers.
Eight years earlier, he'd made a decision he considered necessary to protect his family.
Now he was beginning to understand that someone else had paid for it.
“I didn't know her name,” he said.
Rachel stepped back.
“That doesn't answer my question.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“No. It doesn't.”
Outside, rain struck the tall laundry room windows.
He placed the letter on the table.
“Eight years ago, one of our construction contractors caused an accident at a redevelopment site in East Boston. A security guard died. Three workers were injured.”
Rachel waited.
“The company blamed defective equipment. But I learned the contractor had ignored safety reports.”
“What happened?”
“I ordered the project suspended and the contractor dismissed.”
“That sounds like the right thing.”
“That's not the decision I'm ashamed of.”
He turned Nicholas's watch over in his hand.
“The security guard's daughter came to our family hospital carrying photographs. She claimed someone had deliberately disabled the safety alarms.”
“Claire.”
“I didn't know that then.”
“What did you do?”
Alessandro took a breath.
“My mother was receiving treatment there. There were reporters outside. Our attorneys told me the girl was being paid by a rival developer to create a scandal.”
“And you believed them?”
“I wanted to believe them.”
Rachel's eyes filled with disappointment.
“What happened to her?”
“I authorized security to remove her from the hospital. I told the administrator not to let her near my mother again.”
Rachel stared at him.
“She was trying to prove how her father died.”
“Yes.”
“And you made sure nobody listened.”
Alessandro looked down.
“Yes.”
For years, he'd remembered that night as an unpleasant business incident.
Now he remembered the young woman's face.
The desperation in her eyes.
The folder pressed against her chest.
Her voice calling after him:
“My father didn't have to die!”
He had walked away.
“Why would your mother hire her afterward?” Rachel asked.
“That's what we need to find out.”
The envelope contained another item.
A small card bearing the name of an East Boston restaurant.
MARTINO'S CAFÉ — TABLE SEVEN.
The same restaurant appeared in the photograph of Claire and Nicholas.
On the reverse, someone had written:
Ask Rosa what Nicholas left behind.
Alessandro called Marco.
“Find out whether Martino's Café still exists.”
“It does, sir. Family-owned. Same location.”
“Have the car ready.”
Rachel folded the uniform carefully.
“I want to come.”
“No.”
Her expression hardened.
“Then I want you to explain why.”
“Your father was threatened tonight. You should be with him.”
“My father has security. Claire doesn't.”
Alessandro looked at her.
Rachel continued.
“Someone hid that uniform for six years. Someone threatened my father because I found it. And you just admitted you turned Claire away when she needed help.”
Every word struck its target.
“If you're going to find the truth,” Rachel said, “you need someone who isn't afraid to tell you when you're wrong.”
Alessandro almost smiled.
Almost.
“Get your coat.”
They reached Martino's shortly before midnight.
The small restaurant stood between a pharmacy and a closed tailor shop.
Inside, an elderly woman was wiping down the counter.
She looked up as Alessandro entered.
Then she noticed the watch in his hand.
Her expression collapsed.
“Where did you get Nicky's watch?”
“Rosa Martino?”
She nodded.
“I'm Alessandro Romano.”
“I know who you are.”
There was no warmth in her voice.
Rachel placed the photograph on the counter.
“We're looking for Claire Morgan.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
She pulled out a chair.
“Sit down.”
Alessandro remained standing.
“Is Claire alive?”
“Yes.”
The answer released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
“Can you tell me where she is?”
Rosa looked toward Rachel.
“Before I tell you anything, I want him to answer one question.”
Rachel sat.
Alessandro nodded.
“Ask.”
“Did your family ever apologize for what happened to Thomas Morgan?”
The name struck him.
Thomas Morgan.
The security guard killed in the construction accident.
“No,” Alessandro admitted.
“Then that should tell you what kind of family Claire believed she was entering.”
Rosa opened a drawer beneath the counter.
Inside was a small velvet pouch.
She emptied it onto the table.
A silver rosary fell beside a wedding photograph.
Nicholas wore a dark suit.
Claire stood beside him in a simple ivory dress.
They were holding hands beneath the brick archway outside the restaurant.
Alessandro lowered himself into a chair.
“They were married?”
“Civil ceremony. June eighth. Six years ago.”
“Three months before Nicholas died.”
Rosa nodded.
“Nicholas wanted to tell you. Claire was afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because by then she'd discovered her father's death wasn't an accident.”
Alessandro looked at the photograph.
Nicholas appeared happier than Alessandro had ever seen him.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“Because Claire believed you were involved.”
“I wasn't.”
Rosa studied him.
“Then why did you order security to remove her from the hospital?”
He had no answer that would satisfy her.
Rosa picked up the rosary.
“Your mother sent Nicholas here after she met Claire. Elena knew the girl had evidence that could hurt the family's business.”
“Mother knew?”
“She was trying to make things right before she died.”
Alessandro frowned.
“My mother died before Nicholas married Claire.”
“Yes. But she left him something.”
“What?”
“A letter explaining how the accident was covered up.”
Alessandro leaned forward.
“Where is it?”
Rosa shook her head.
“Nicholas took it to a meeting with Edward Whitmore. Two days later, he was dead.”
Rachel exchanged a glance with Alessandro.
“Why Edward?” she asked.
“Because Whitmore Development was the subcontractor responsible for maintaining the site's safety equipment.”
Alessandro stood.
He had spent years believing the contractor was an independent company.
He hadn't known Edward controlled it.
“Did Claire know?”
“She learned shortly before Nicholas died. She went to confront Edward at his charity dinner.”
“The dinner where she accused him of inappropriate behavior,” Rachel whispered.
Rosa's expression sharpened.
“That's what they told people?”
“That's what Alessandro was told.”
Rosa shook her head.
“Claire accused Edward of destroying safety records. She also accused him of forcing himself on a young employee who tried to report the problem. Claire wasn't the only victim.”
Alessandro remembered the public complaint.
The whispers.
Edward insisting that Claire was unstable.
He'd believed the wealthy businessman over the woman he'd once ordered removed from his mother's hospital.
Rosa continued.
“Nicholas promised he'd expose everything. Then his car went off the road.”
“Do you think Edward killed him?”
“I think Nicholas learned something that made very powerful people nervous.”
Alessandro placed both hands on the table.
“Why didn't you come to me?”
“I did.”
Silence settled over the restaurant.
Rosa's eyes shone.
“I came to your estate the morning after Nicholas's funeral. Camille Whitmore met me at the gate. She said you knew everything and wanted Claire kept away.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
Rosa disappeared into the kitchen.
When she returned, she carried an old leather reservation book.
“Claire left me this before they took her away.”
She opened it to a date six years earlier.
A folded piece of paper was tucked between the pages.
It contained a list of names.
Edward Whitmore.
Dr. Leonard Pierce.
Margaret Voss.
And one more.
Alessandro recognized the final name immediately.
VITTORIO ROMANO.
His father.
The man who had taught him everything about loyalty.
The man who had died only three years earlier.
Beneath the names, Claire had written:
All four were present when the hospital agreement was signed.
Rachel looked toward Alessandro.
“What agreement?”
Rosa's face drained of color.
“The agreement that made Claire Morgan disappear.”
Then she turned another page.
A date had been circled in red.
May you like
Next to it were five chilling words.
ALESSANDRO WAS NEVER TOLD WHY.
