Chapter 4 - THE PHOTOGRAPH WITH THE MISSING CORNER
“Peter Bellini was sent away?”
Luca's voice was barely above a whisper.
Arthur sat with his hands folded over the dark wool coat.
“That's what your father believed.”
“Believed?” Luca repeated. “I was told Peter moved to California after a family disagreement.”
“He did leave Chicago,” Arthur said. “But the reason was never explained.”
I stared at the photograph.
The young boy stood between Anthony Moretti and my mother.
He had dark hair, a nervous smile, and one hand clasped tightly around Margaret's fingers.
Something about that hand troubled me.
Then I noticed it.
The photograph's lower right corner had been torn away.
There should have been another person standing beside Peter.
Only the edge of a pale dress remained.
“Who was cut out?” I asked.
Arthur leaned forward.
His expression changed.
“I don't know.”
But I could tell he recognized something.
Luca noticed too.
“Arthur.”
The old man sighed.
“Evelyn asked me to destroy a photograph once. Years before your father died.”
“Why?”
“She said it would cause trouble between Anthony and Richard Bellini.”
Luca held up the picture.
“Was it this one?”
Arthur shook his head.
“No. The one she showed me had five people.”
I looked at the torn corner again.
Five people.
Anthony.
Evelyn.
Margaret.
Peter.
And someone else.
“Did you destroy it?” Luca asked.
“No.”
“Where is it?”
Arthur lowered his head.
“I gave it back to your mother.”
Upstairs, the old grandfather clock struck midnight.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Daniel entered.
“Detective Whitcomb is still waiting for the hospital records to be confirmed. She'd like to speak with Miss Bennett's mother.”
My heart sank.
“My mother can't handle an interrogation.”
“She doesn't have to be interrogated,” Luca replied. “We can explain the situation and let her decide what she's able to share.”
I looked at him.
“Then I want to be there.”
“Of course.”
The next morning, Luca drove me to the rehabilitation facility.
Daniel followed in another vehicle.
I had never imagined sitting beside Luca Moretti in the back of his black sedan.
And I certainly hadn't imagined doing it while carrying evidence from his father's death.
My mother was sitting near the window when we entered.
Margaret Bennett was fifty-eight.
Her once-dark hair had turned mostly silver.
Pain had bent her fingers and stiffened her shoulders, but her eyes remained sharp.
She smiled when she saw me.
Then she noticed Luca.
The smile vanished.
“Claire.”
“Mom, we need to talk.”
Her gaze stayed on him.
“You look like Anthony.”
Luca approached slowly.
“Mrs. Bennett, I'm Luca Moretti.”
“I know who you are.”
He pulled up a chair.
“My mother remembers you.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“That poor woman.”
I showed her the photograph.
Her fingers trembled.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was sewn into Anthony's coat.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
“He kept it.”
“Mom, who was standing in the missing corner?”
She looked toward the window.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered:
“Vanessa.”
I stared at her.
“Vanessa Bellini?”
My mother nodded.
“She was a little girl then. Six years old.”
Luca leaned forward.
“Why was she removed from the photograph?”
“Because Richard never wanted anyone to remember where that picture was taken.”
I looked at the garden behind them.
It appeared ordinary.
Roses.
A stone path.
A white bench.
“What was special about the garden?”
Margaret looked at Luca.
“That wasn't the Moretti garden.”
He frowned.
“Then whose was it?”
“Peter's.”
Luca sat back.
“Peter owned a house?”
“Anthony bought it for him.”
“Why?”
My mother hesitated.
“Because your father believed Richard was stealing from his brother.”
The room went silent.
Margaret continued.
“Peter was gentle. He wasn't interested in business. Anthony wanted him to have something independent, somewhere Richard couldn't control his money.”
Luca stared at her.
“Did Richard know?”
“He found out.”
“What happened?”
“Peter signed papers he didn't understand. Within a year, the property was gone.”
Luca looked toward the photograph.
“And my father became involved?”
“Anthony tried to get it back.”
I felt sick.
“Mom, why did you leave the Moretti household?”
Margaret's eyes filled.
“Because I helped Peter hide financial records.”
Luca leaned closer.
“Records of what?”
“Money Richard had taken from trusts meant for his younger brother. Anthony had been trying to prove it.”
“Why didn't he go to the police?”
“He planned to. But Peter was terrified. Richard controlled his housing and medical care.”
Luca looked confused.
“Peter needed medical care?”
Margaret nodded.
“He had epilepsy. Nothing that made him incapable of living a good life, but Richard treated him like an embarrassment.”
I thought of Evelyn being called senile whenever she tried to speak.
The cruelty felt painfully familiar.
Then my mother gripped my hand.
“Claire, listen carefully.”
“What is it?”
“Did Evelyn give you the spoon?”
I nodded.
Three tiny scratches.
Her breathing became shallow.
“Then Richard knows she's remembered.”
“Remembered what?”
My mother looked at Luca.
“Your father didn't die immediately after drinking that tea.”
Luca froze.
“The hospital said he collapsed at home.”
“He did. But he remained conscious long enough to tell me something.”
“What?”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“He said Richard wasn't working alone.”
I remembered Evelyn's words.
Other one.
Luca leaned forward.
“Who was helping him?”
My mother shook her head.
“Anthony didn't know for certain. But he believed someone inside his own household had been passing information to Richard.”
Luca's face darkened.
“Who?”
Margaret reached toward her bedside drawer.
Inside was a small red velvet pouch.
She opened it and removed a delicate gold bracelet.
A child's bracelet.
A tiny engraved heart hung from the clasp.
I had seen it before.
In the torn photograph.
Vanessa had been wearing it.
Margaret turned the heart over.
On the back were three engraved initials.
V.E.M.
Luca frowned.
“Vanessa Evelyn Moretti?”
My mother shook her head.
“No. Vanessa Elizabeth Bellini. The final letter isn't an initial.”
She pressed a fingernail against the tiny M.
A concealed hinge opened.
Inside the charm was a miniature folded strip of paper.
Margaret placed it in Luca's hand.
“Anthony hid the name of the person he was afraid of.”
Luca unfolded it.
He read the two handwritten words.
May you like
And his expression changed completely.
“EVELYN MORETTI.”
