Chapter 7 - THE SIX PEOPLE WHO REFUSED TO DISAPPEAR
“Then we're going to find all six.”
Luca spoke with a determination I hadn't heard before.
Edward stood beside the library table, staring at the broken silver bird.
I looked at the list.
Margaret Lewis.
Thomas Reed.
Evelyn Price.
Daniel Foster.
Anna Walsh.
Helen Mercer.
Six names.
Six people who had tried to stop Richard Bellini.
And at least one of them had spent years believing nobody would ever listen.
“Margaret is dead,” I said quietly.
Rebecca had told me her mother had passed away eighteen months earlier.
Edward nodded.
“But she left Rebecca her papers. That may be why Rebecca approached the hotel.”
“What about the others?” Luca asked.
Edward rubbed his forehead.
“Thomas moved to Wisconsin. Evelyn retired to Indiana. Daniel Foster still lives somewhere in Chicago.”
“And Helen?”
Edward looked away.
“We need to find her.”
Luca turned to me.
“Claire, would you be willing to help Detective Whitcomb go through the records?”
I looked at the list.
“Of course.”
He paused.
“You shouldn't feel obligated.”
I thought about my mother sitting in a hospital bed.
About Giuseppe crying at dinner.
About Helen's abandoned coat beneath the cot.
“I already am.”
The following morning, Detective Sarah Whitcomb arrived at the mansion.
She was a practical woman in her early forties with tired eyes and a quiet voice.
She placed several photographs on the library table.
“We've established that someone used Room Twelve to hold Helen Mercer for at least several days.”
I felt sick.
“Was she hurt?”
“There were signs of a struggle. We can't determine the extent of her injuries yet.”
Luca leaned forward.
“Who arranged the security?”
“A contractor hired by Bellini Development.”
“Richard's company,” I said.
Whitcomb nodded.
“Two guards have been identified. We're looking for them.”
She turned to the next photograph.
It showed the hotel's loading dock.
A white delivery van stood near the entrance.
The image was grainy, but I could see a figure being helped into the back.
My stomach tightened.
“Helen?”
“We believe so,” Whitcomb said. “The timestamp was recorded three hours after the phone message.”
Luca frowned.
“So someone moved her before the police arrived.”
“Possibly.”
I stared at the photograph.
“Look at her feet.”
Whitcomb leaned closer.
Helen appeared to be wearing slippers.
And the person helping her had one hand beneath her elbow.
“She isn't being dragged,” I said.
The detective nodded.
“That caught our attention too.”
“Could someone have been helping her escape?”
“We're investigating that possibility.”
Luca looked at the van.
“Can you identify the driver?”
“Not yet.”
I studied the image again.
The person beside Helen wore a dark coat.
Something small flashed near the collar.
A silver pin.
I leaned closer.
“The bird.”
Whitcomb frowned.
“What bird?”
I showed her the pin Edward had given us.
“The Bellavista staff wore these. Helen gave one to my mother.”
The detective studied the photograph.
“We'll have the image examined.”
For the first time, I felt hopeful.
Perhaps Helen had escaped with someone she trusted.
Perhaps the messages hadn't been a final plea.
Perhaps she'd been trying to warn Giuseppe that Richard's men were returning.
But hope didn't last long.
Whitcomb opened another file.
“We also found a recent financial transaction involving the old medical fund.”
Luca looked up.
“How much?”
“Four million dollars.”
I felt my stomach turn.
“Where did it go?”
“To an account controlled by Bellini Development.”
Luca stood.
“Richard stole another four million dollars?”
“That's what we're investigating.”
Whitcomb raised one hand.
“But there's a complication.”
“What?”
“The transfer carried an authorization from the Moretti family trust.”
Luca went still.
“That's impossible.”
The detective studied him.
“Are you the current trustee?”
“Yes.”
“And did you authorize the transfer?”
“No.”
She looked down at the document.
“Your electronic signature appears on the approval.”
The room fell silent.
I stared at Luca.
He looked genuinely shocked.
“I never approved that.”
Whitcomb nodded.
“We'll examine the electronic records.”
Then she gathered the photographs.
“Until we know more, I strongly recommend that no one involved in the family's finances destroy or alter anything.”
Luca nodded.
“Agreed.”
After she left, I stood beside the library window.
Luca remained at the table.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said, “You think I knew?”
I turned.
“No.”
He looked surprised.
“Why not?”
“Because you looked as shocked as I felt.”
He gave a humorless laugh.
“That's not much of a defense.”
“It isn't a defense. It's an observation.”
I walked toward him.
“But you did let Vanessa handle things you should have checked.”
He lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
“And your grandfather was trying to warn you.”
“Yes.”
I took a breath.
“Then stop blaming yourself long enough to help him.”
He looked up.
Something changed in his expression.
Not pride.
Gratitude.
“Fair enough.”
That evening, Vanessa returned to the mansion under an arrangement approved by Detective Whitcomb.
She was allowed to retrieve personal belongings while accompanied by security.
She wore a cream-colored coat.
Her makeup couldn't hide how exhausted she looked.
When she saw me in the hallway, she stopped.
“Claire.”
I waited.
She glanced toward the security guard.
“Could we speak for a moment?”
I folded my arms.
“You had plenty to say to me at dinner.”
She looked down.
“I know.”
For a moment, she seemed almost human.
“I'm sorry for how I treated you.”
I watched her carefully.
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“Because I was frightened.”
“Of what?”
“My father.”
I stared at her.
She looked toward the library.
“He told me if I didn't help him finish the renovation, he'd ruin Luca's family financially.”
I felt anger rise.
“So you took it out on a housekeeper?”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
At least she didn't pretend otherwise.
I asked, “Did you know Helen was locked inside Room Twelve?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Not at first.”
My stomach tightened.
“At first?”
She looked away.
“After the renovation began, I found an invoice for special door locks. I asked Daddy about it.”
“What did he say?”
“That they were for securing old records.”
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
Her voice cracked.
“Then I heard him arguing with someone about a woman who wouldn't surrender a book.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you tell Luca?”
“No.”
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because my father said he'd expose Luca's business dealings if I interfered.”
I stared at her.
“Luca's dealings?”
Vanessa nodded.
“Daddy has records from before Luca took control of the family.”
I thought about Luca's reputation.
The fear people showed him.
The way his grandfather loved him.
“Are they real?”
“I don't know.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“But I know my father has been using them to control people for years.”
I looked at her.
“Then tell the police.”
She shook her head.
“I already did.”
For a moment, I was speechless.
“You did?”
“Yes. This morning.”
She took something from her coat pocket.
A small photograph.
It showed Helen standing beside a younger Richard Bellini outside the Bellavista.
Richard was smiling.
Helen wasn't.
Vanessa handed it to me.
“Daddy kept this in his safe.”
I turned it over.
A date had been written on the back.
Eleven years earlier.
The night my mother had been accused of theft.
Below it were three handwritten words.
The final witness.
I looked up.
“What does that mean?”
Vanessa's face crumpled.
“I think it means Helen wasn't the person he was most afraid of.”
My heart began pounding.
“Then who was?”
Vanessa looked toward the staircase.
Where Giuseppe was being helped down for dinner.
Then she whispered:
“YOUR GRANDFATHER WASN'T THE ONLY MORETTI WHO KNEW WHAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT.”
Luca appeared behind us.
May you like
His face had gone pale.
“Vanessa,” he said quietly, “are you talking about my father?”
