Chapter 2 - THE SIXTH NAME
“Take your hand out of your pocket, Mr. Bellini.”
Luca Moretti's voice cut through the dining room.
Vanessa's father, Richard Bellini, stopped moving.
For a moment, the only sound came from the grandfather clock ticking beside the entrance.
Richard was sixty-three, a respected Chicago businessman who had spent the evening discussing property investments and charitable donations.
Now his face had lost its color.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your pocket,” Luca repeated. “You reached inside it when Grandpa mentioned the other key.”
Richard gave a strained laugh.
“Surely you aren't suggesting I'm holding someone prisoner because an elderly man folded his napkin?”
Giuseppe's trembling hand tightened around mine.
I felt him struggling to speak.
“Key,” he whispered.
Richard looked at him.
Something cold passed between them.
Luca noticed.
“Show me what's in your pocket.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Luca, please. You're humiliating my father in front of our guests.”
Luca didn't look at her.
“Your father can end the humiliation by answering a simple question.”
Richard slowly removed a silver cigarette case.
He opened it.
Inside were three cigarettes and a small brass key.
Nobody spoke.
Edward Sullivan stepped closer.
“May I see that?”
Richard snapped the case shut.
“Absolutely not.”
Edward stared at the key.
“The Bellavista used those brass keys before we installed the electronic system.”
Luca held out his hand.
Richard's jaw tightened.
“You have no authority to search me.”
“No,” Luca answered. “But the police have been called. You're welcome to explain it to them.”
For the first time, Richard looked frightened.
Then he placed the cigarette case on the table.
Vanessa began crying.
“Daddy, tell him.”
Richard said nothing.
That frightened me more than his anger.
Giuseppe tugged my sleeve.
He pointed at the key, then at his own wrist.
I looked down.
He wore a battered gold watch with a cracked leather strap.
I'd helped him wind it every morning.
“What is it, Mr. Moretti?”
He tapped the watch twice.
Then whispered, “Different.”
Edward leaned over the table.
“Of course.”
Luca turned toward him.
“What?”
“Room Twelve had two locks,” Edward explained. “One ordinary lock for the door and one for the emergency records cabinet.”
He studied Richard's cigarette case.
“That key belongs to the cabinet.”
Luca looked at Richard.
“So you have access to the records Helen Mercer was trying to protect.”
Richard straightened.
“I oversaw the renovation. Naturally, I had access.”
“But you told me the building was empty.”
“It was supposed to be.”
The words hung between them.
Luca's expression hardened.
“Supposed to be?”
Before Richard could answer, the security chief approached.
“Sir, Chicago police are on their way to the Bellavista. Detective Sarah Whitcomb is responding.”
“Tell her there may be a woman trapped inside.”
“Already done.”
I watched Luca turn back toward his grandfather.
“Grandpa, I need you to tell me something.”
Giuseppe looked exhausted.
His fingers trembled against the tablecloth.
“Did Richard hurt Helen?”
The old man closed his eyes.
Then shook his head.
Vanessa seized the moment.
“See? This is all a terrible misunderstanding.”
But Giuseppe opened his eyes again.
He pointed toward Richard.
Then folded the napkin once more.
Not into the upside-down triangle.
This time he folded it into a narrow rectangle.
Edward inhaled sharply.
“What does that mean?” Luca asked.
Edward hesitated.
“It was another hotel signal. Used when a guest was being watched by someone who had authority over them.”
Richard stepped backward.
Luca stared at him.
“Who was watching Helen?”
Richard's mouth opened.
No answer came.
Then Giuseppe whispered one word.
“Daughter.”
I looked at Vanessa.
She went completely still.
Luca followed my gaze.
“Vanessa?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Giuseppe struck the table.
“Not... her.”
Everyone stared.
The old man was struggling to lift his hand.
I gently supported his elbow.
He pointed toward the brass luggage tag.
“The daughter,” he repeated.
Edward picked up the tag and studied the names.
“Helen Mercer,” he murmured. “Margaret Lewis. Thomas Reed. Evelyn Price. Daniel Foster. Anna Walsh.”
He turned it over.
His expression changed.
“Anna Walsh.”
Luca frowned.
“What about her?”
Edward lowered himself into a chair.
“Anna was Helen's daughter.”
A murmur spread through the room.
Richard looked toward the exit.
Luca immediately noticed.
“Don't even think about leaving.”
Edward continued.
“Anna worked in the Bellavista's accounting office for seven years. She resigned after discovering irregular payments.”
“When?”
“Almost eleven years ago.”
Giuseppe began shaking his head.
Edward stopped.
“What is it, Mr. Moretti?”
The old man pointed at me.
I stared at him.
“Me?”
He nodded.
Then whispered, “Anna.”
My stomach dropped.
“My mother's name is Anna.”
Luca turned.
“Your mother?”
I swallowed.
“Anna Bennett. She was Anna Walsh before she married my father.”
Edward stood so quickly his chair tipped backward.
“Claire?”
I nodded.
He stared at my face.
“Good Lord. You have her eyes.”
I felt suddenly exposed beneath forty-two pairs of watching eyes.
“My mother never told me she worked at the Bellavista.”
Richard's expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
He had known.
Giuseppe squeezed my hand.
“Your... mother.”
I knelt beside his wheelchair.
“Mr. Moretti, what are you trying to tell me?”
He reached for his watch.
His trembling fingers struggled with the clasp.
I helped him.
Beneath the leather strap was a tiny folded piece of paper.
The edges were yellowed.
Giuseppe pressed it into my palm.
I carefully opened it.
Three words had been written in faded blue ink.
Anna kept copies.
Below them was a number.
314\.
Luca leaned closer.
“What is that?”
Edward looked at the paper.
“The Bellavista had three hundred and fourteen safe-deposit compartments.”
Richard suddenly spoke.
“Those compartments were emptied years ago.”
Edward turned toward him.
“I didn't say compartment three hundred and fourteen was still there.”
Richard fell silent.
Luca looked at me.
“Claire, did your mother ever mention a safe-deposit box?”
“No.”
I felt tears rising.
“My mother has been sick for almost a year. She has kidney problems, and I work here because her treatment is expensive.”
Giuseppe began crying.
He reached up and touched my cheek.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
Something inside me tightened.
“Why are you apologizing?”
He tried to answer.
But his breathing became uneven.
Luca immediately called for his grandfather's nurse.
As she approached, Giuseppe grabbed my wrist.
“Anna,” he whispered. “Protect... Anna.”
Then his eyes closed.
The nurse checked his pulse.
“He's conscious, but exhausted. We need to get him somewhere quiet.”
Luca nodded.
“Claire, go with him.”
I stood.
But Richard blocked my path.
“Miss Bennett.”
His voice had changed.
It was almost gentle.
“Your mother is a very sick woman. I wouldn't want tonight's unpleasantness to upset her.”
I stared at him.
“Is that a threat?”
He looked wounded.
“Of course not.”
Luca moved between us.
“Stay away from her.”
Richard stepped back.
His expression hardened.
As I pushed Giuseppe's wheelchair toward the hallway, Edward hurried after us.
“Claire, there's something else.”
I stopped.
He looked at the paper in my hand.
“Three-fourteen wasn't just a compartment number.”
“What do you mean?”
Edward swallowed.
“It was Anna's employee identification number.”
My heart began pounding.
“Why would Giuseppe hide that number for eleven years?”
Edward glanced toward the dining room.
Then spoke quietly.
“Because the night your mother disappeared from the Bellavista, the hotel reported that a quarter of a million dollars had been stolen.”
I stared at him.
“My mother isn't a thief.”
“I know.”
He took a breath.
“That's why I never believed the official report.”
“Then why didn't you help her?”
Edward's eyes filled with regret.
“Because I was told she'd confessed.”
I shook my head.
“That never happened.”
Edward looked at the gold watch in Giuseppe's lap.
“Claire, your mother didn't leave the hotel voluntarily.”
A cold sensation spread through my chest.
“What?”
Edward's voice dropped.
“Eleven years ago, she was carried out through the service entrance after midnight.”
I couldn't move.
“Who carried her?”
Edward looked toward Richard Bellini.
May you like
Then whispered:
“THE SAME MAN WHO JUST WARNED YOU NOT TO UPSET HER.”
