Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO KEPT HIS WIFE'S SECRET
Luca read Sofia's handwriting three times.
Then he looked at the date on the parking ticket.
“November fourteenth,” he whispered.
His wife had been dead for two years.
Yet the ticket suggested that someone connected to her car had reached the hospital that night.
I stood beside the bed, holding Oliver's hand.
The little boy stared at the music box as though it might explain something nobody else understood.
“Could somebody have planted it?” Daniel asked.
Luca nodded slowly.
“Yes. And until we know who, we can't assume what it means.”
That surprised me.
The Luca Moretti I'd known rarely questioned his own instincts.
But tonight he seemed determined not to make another mistake.
He folded the ticket and placed it inside a clean envelope.
“We'll give it to the detectives.”
Then Oliver reached toward the photograph inside the music box.
“Blue.”
I leaned closer.
“What blue, sweetheart?”
He touched Sofia's bracelet in the picture.
A narrow silver bracelet with three blue stones.
I remembered seeing it before.
Not on Sofia.
On Vanessa.
At the engagement dinner three weeks earlier.
Vanessa had worn a silver bracelet with three blue stones and told everyone it was a family heirloom.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said carefully, “I think Vanessa has your wife's bracelet.”
Luca stared at me.
“That's impossible. Sofia was buried with it.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“Are you certain?”
“I helped choose what she wore.”
Daniel took a photograph of the music box.
“Maybe there were two bracelets.”
“Maybe,” Luca said.
But his expression suggested he didn't believe it.
Downstairs, the police had arrived.
Detective Rachel Hayes from the Chicago Police Department's organized crime unit took control of the immediate scene.
She was in her early forties, with dark hair pulled tightly behind her head.
She asked Luca to explain the discovery of Marcus and the recorder.
Then she requested separate interviews with every adult involved.
When Vanessa was brought into the study, she looked smaller without her audience.
Her makeup had begun to fade.
She held a tissue in both hands.
“Luca,” she whispered, “I know you're angry.”
“You knew Marcus was downstairs.”
She nodded.
“Why?”
She glanced at Detective Hayes.
“My father said Marcus was going to destroy everything.”
“What everything?”
“The foundation. My mother's work. The hospital grants.”
Richard Bellini had established a charitable foundation after his wife died.
It funded children's rehabilitation programs.
For years, Luca had donated millions.
Vanessa chaired the foundation's annual gala.
Those responsibilities had given her an important place in Chicago society.
But I'd seen another side of her.
The woman who counted household expenses while ordering twenty-thousand-dollar dresses.
The woman who told me Oliver's therapists were too expensive, then spent more on flowers for her engagement party than some families earned in a year.
“I thought Marcus was stealing money,” she said.
Luca stared at her.
“You thought that justified locking him in a room?”
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“My father said it was temporary.”
“And Oliver?”
She looked at the floor.
“He saw us moving Marcus.”
My breath caught.
“You knew?”
Vanessa nodded.
“He was standing behind the staircase.”
“That's why he stopped speaking?” Luca asked.
“I didn't know that would happen.”
“You threatened him?”
She shook her head.
“My father told me to keep him quiet. I thought if he believed nobody would listen to him, he'd stop trying to tell people.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then I felt Oliver's fingers close around my hand.
Vanessa looked toward him.
“Oliver, sweetheart—”
“Don't,” Luca said.
His voice was quiet.
“Don't ask him to comfort you.”
Detective Hayes intervened.
“Ms. Bellini, we'll need a full statement concerning Marcus's confinement and what you knew about the threats to Oliver.”
Vanessa wiped her face.
Then she looked at the watch on Luca's desk.
Her expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
Luca followed her gaze.
“My father's watch.”
“That's not possible.”
“Why?”
Vanessa stood so suddenly her chair scraped the floor.
“My father has been looking for that watch for years.”
Detective Hayes leaned forward.
“Why would he want it?”
Vanessa's eyes filled again.
“Because he believes something was hidden inside.”
Luca opened the watch.
The inside appeared ordinary.
A simple mechanical movement.
No folded paper.
No secret compartment.
But Daniel examined the back plate.
“The screws have been replaced.”
He turned it over.
Two tiny screws were silver.
The others were brass.
“Someone opened this recently.”
Luca stared.
“Who?”
Vanessa whispered, “I don't know.”
Detective Hayes asked who had access to Sofia's room.
Vanessa hesitated.
“My father. Anthony. Marcus. And me.”
Then she added something that made Luca straighten.
“Also, Mrs. Whitcomb.”
I recognized the name.
Eleanor Whitcomb had been Sofia's closest friend.
A retired nurse who lived outside Chicago.
She sometimes sent Oliver birthday cards.
But she hadn't visited the mansion since before I started working there.
“Why would Eleanor have access?” Luca asked.
“Because Sofia gave her a key.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“And because your wife didn't trust you with everything.”
Luca flinched.
The words were cruel.
But I saw something in Vanessa's eyes.
Not satisfaction.
Guilt.
Detective Hayes asked another question.
“Did Mrs. Whitcomb know anything about Sofia's death?”
Vanessa stared at the silver watch.
“She was the last person Sofia called.”
Luca looked stunned.
“How do you know?”
“Because I answered Sofia's phone the next morning when it rang.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
The room went silent.
Vanessa began crying again.
“My father told me to stay away from Eleanor. He said she was dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?” Hayes asked.
“She claimed Sofia had discovered something about the foundation.”
Luca looked at Detective Hayes.
“Can we contact her?”
The detective nodded.
“We'll locate her.”
But Oliver suddenly pulled away from me.
He walked toward the bookshelf.
There, between two framed photographs, stood a picture of Sofia with Eleanor Whitcomb.
Eleanor wore a pale blue cardigan.
Sofia was smiling.
Between them stood a much younger Richard Bellini.
Oliver pointed at Eleanor.
“Nice lady.”
I crouched.
“You remember her?”
He nodded.
“She cried.”
“When?”
Oliver touched his chest.
“After Mommy.”
Luca approached.
“Buddy, did Eleanor come here after your mother died?”
Oliver nodded.
Then he pointed toward Vanessa.
“Red lady yelled.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Detective Hayes took the photograph.
“Mr. Moretti, did anyone tell you Eleanor visited?”
“No.”
Oliver looked at the silver watch.
Then whispered something that barely reached us.
“She took the little thing.”
“What little thing?” I asked.
Oliver pointed to the watch.
“Inside.”
Luca lifted it.
“You mean something was inside the watch?”
Oliver nodded.
Then looked directly at his father.
“Nice lady gave it to Mommy.”
Vanessa suddenly began shaking her head.
“No. That can't be right.”
Luca turned.
“Why not?”
She looked at Detective Hayes.
“My father told me Sofia stole something from him.”
“What?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“A small brass key.”
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Then she whispered:
“HE SAID THAT KEY COULD PROVE THE FOUNDATION PAID FOR SOFIA'S DEATH.”
