Chapter 8 - THE LAST MESSAGE FROM A DEAD MOTHER
“Give me the book, Eleanor, or the priest dies first.”
Lawrence Voss pointed his pistol toward the hallway where Father Michael stood frozen.
Nell held the red ledger against her chest.
For eight years, she had dreamed of learning who destroyed her family.
Now one of those men stood directly in front of her.
And he was threatening another innocent person.
“You killed my mother,” she whispered.
Voss tilted his head.
“Your mother was an unfortunate woman who didn't understand when to stop asking questions.”
“She was trying to help people.”
“She was interfering with important business.”
Nell's hands tightened around the book.
“You stole money from families who had nothing.”
Voss smiled.
“Money doesn't belong to people simply because they need it.”
The coldness in his voice frightened her more than the gun.
He truly believed what he was saying.
“You won't get away with this.”
“My dear girl, I've been getting away with it for eight years.”
He extended his free hand.
“The book.”
Father Michael moved slightly in the hallway.
Voss immediately turned the pistol toward him.
“Don't.”
Nell felt panic rising.
She had sent photographs to Carmine, but only of several pages.
The remaining evidence was inside the book Voss wanted.
If she surrendered it, the men responsible for her mother's death might escape justice.
If she refused, Father Michael could die.
“Please,” the priest said quietly. “Don't do anything foolish.”
Nell looked at him.
Then she slowly lowered the ledger.
“Fine.”
Voss smiled.
“Good girl.”
“But first, answer one question.”
He sighed.
“What?”
“Why did you need my mother dead if you already controlled the money?”
His expression changed.
For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he stepped closer.
“Because Rosa found something worse than stolen money.”
Nell's heart began pounding.
“What?”
“Your mother discovered how those properties were acquired. Families were pressured into selling for pennies. Those who refused received threats. Some had their businesses condemned. Others lost insurance coverage.”
“And my mother?”
“She found the original agreements. She intended to testify.”
“So you burned the bakery.”
Voss stared at her.
Then he smiled.
“I arranged for the evidence to disappear.”
The distinction was deliberate.
Nell understood that he was carefully avoiding a direct admission of murder.
But he had said enough.
She had quietly activated the recording function on her phone while sending the photographs.
It was still recording inside her coat pocket.
Voss moved forward.
“Now give me the book.”
Nell handed it over.
He opened it, flipped through several pages, and smiled.
“Eight years,” he murmured. “Eight years looking for this.”
Then he pointed the gun toward a storage closet.
“Both of you. Inside.”
Father Michael looked toward Nell.
“Do as he says.”
They stepped inside.
Voss slammed the door.
A lock clicked.
Then his footsteps disappeared.
Carmine arrived at St. Agnes twelve minutes later.
Nell had managed to send a single message before Voss took the ledger.
VOSS IS HERE. ARMED. CHURCH STORAGE.
Carmine entered with Benny, who had been reinstated after helping rescue Palmira.
They found the storage closet locked.
“Nell!”
“Carmine!”
Her voice came through the wooden door.
Benny forced the lock with a pry bar from the maintenance room.
Carmine opened the door.
Nell stumbled forward.
He caught her.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I'm fine. Father Michael is fine.”
Carmine exhaled.
Only then did Nell realize his hands were trembling.
He looked toward the priest.
“Where's Voss?”
“Gone,” Father Michael answered.
Nell pulled away.
“He took the ledger.”
Carmine's expression darkened.
“But you sent photographs.”
“Not enough. I only captured seven pages.”
Benny checked the church's security system.
“The rear gate camera shows him leaving in a gray sedan.”
“Send it to the police,” Carmine ordered.
Nell reached into her pocket.
“There's something else.”
She held up her phone.
“I recorded him.”
Carmine looked at her.
“What?”
“He admitted arranging for the evidence to disappear. He talked about the threats and stolen property.”
They listened.
Voss's voice filled the church hallway.
Your mother discovered how those properties were acquired.
She intended to testify.
I arranged for the evidence to disappear.
Carmine looked at Benny.
“Preserve that recording. Don't let it disappear.”
Benny nodded.
Nell looked down.
“I should have held onto the ledger.”
Carmine turned toward her.
“No.”
“But—”
“You were protecting yourself and Father Michael. You made the right choice.”
She looked into his eyes.
For the first time, she believed he meant it.
That evening, the estate library became an improvised investigation office.
Rebecca Shaw worked beside a financial examiner and two investigators from a state agency.
The photographs Nell had taken showed transfers from the storm-recovery fund into accounts controlled by Crescent Hospitality.
Several payments were marked with the mysterious initials C.O.
When Nell pointed them out, Carmine frowned.
“They look like my initials.”
Rebecca examined the account numbers.
“They could be intended to implicate you. But the beneficiary codes correspond to an older account.”
“Whose?” Nell asked.
Rebecca brought up a scanned document.
“Crescent Outreach.”
Palmira, resting nearby, lifted her head.
“Crescent Outreach?”
Carmine turned.
“You know it?”
“Yes. Salvatore established that fund to provide emergency assistance after the hurricane.”
Rebecca nodded.
“The records show money was supposed to move into Crescent Outreach for food, temporary housing, and medical treatment.”
Nell stared at the screen.
“But it didn't?”
“Most of it was redirected.”
“By Voss?”
“Through accounts he administered. Bellarose's companies were the largest recipients.”
Carmine closed his eyes.
His father's signatures had been used to move charitable money into private companies.
Some transactions had been genuine.
Others had been altered.
But the consequences had fallen on ordinary families.
“Can you prove which signatures were forged?” Carmine asked.
“We're working on it,” Rebecca said. “We have some originals from the trust archives. We need the complete chain of transactions.”
Nell looked toward Palmira.
“Maybe Papa knows.”
Emmett Fontaine was brought to the estate that night after his physicians approved a medically supervised transfer to a secure recovery room.
He was still confused at times.
Some mornings he recognized Nell immediately.
Other times he spoke to her as though she were a stranger delivering pastries.
But he was eating better, and the dangerous sedating medication had been discontinued.
Palmira insisted on seeing him.
When Emmett entered the library, she stood with difficulty.
“Emmett.”
He looked at her.
“Palmira?”
Her eyes filled.
“You remember me?”
Emmett smiled faintly.
“You always complained I used too much butter.”
Palmira laughed through tears.
“And you never listened.”
Nell watched them embrace.
It was the first peaceful moment she had experienced in days.
Then Emmett noticed his old blue cookbook on the table.
He reached for it.
“Rosa kept two,” he said.
Nell crouched beside him.
“Two what, Papa?”
“Books.”
“We found the red one.”
He shook his head.
“No. Two copies.”
Nell froze.
“What do you mean?”
Emmett ran his thumb along the back cover.
“Rosa said paper burns.”
He tapped the spine.
“But pictures don't lie.”
Carmine leaned forward.
“Pictures?”
Emmett looked at Nell.
“Your mama borrowed a little camera. One that could photograph pages.”
Rebecca immediately understood.
“Microfilm?”
Emmett nodded.
“Small pictures.”
Nell took the cookbook.
Its back cover was thicker than the front.
She carefully examined the binding.
A narrow strip of stitching had been repaired with dark thread.
Her mother had always stitched books rather than throwing them away.
Nell took a small pair of scissors.
With trembling hands, she opened the seam.
A tiny sealed packet slipped out.
Inside was a roll of photographic film.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Rebecca reached for a protective envelope.
“If this contains copies of the original records, we may have exactly what we need.”
Nell stared at her father.
“Papa, you kept it safe.”
Emmett smiled.
“Rosa told me to.”
Nell wrapped her arms around him.
For eight years, she had feared his memories were all disappearing.
Now one of the most important things he had ever remembered might save them.
Shortly before midnight, the photographs developed from the microfilm arrived through a secure forensic service.
The images showed the original ledger pages, along with signed invoices, property-transfer records, and several handwritten notes from Rosa.
One document was particularly important.
It was an instruction ordering Fontaine's Bakery security alarms disconnected on December 18.
The authorization bore Carmine's signature.
But a second page specified that the system was to be shut down temporarily for maintenance.
A later handwritten amendment ordered the rear doors secured.
That amendment bore Lawrence Voss's initials.
Carmine stared at it.
“I signed the maintenance order. I never saw that amendment.”
Rebecca nodded.
“The dates and handwriting support that distinction. We'll need forensic examination, but the alteration is significant.”
Nell stepped closer.
“Then Voss used your signature to make the bakery unsafe.”
“Yes.”
“And your father tried to save my mother.”
Carmine looked at the document.
“It doesn't erase my responsibility for signing without checking.”
“No,” Nell said softly. “But it means you didn't know what he was planning.”
Their eyes met.
For the first time, the anger between them began to loosen.
Then Rebecca turned another page.
Her expression changed.
“What is it?” Carmine asked.
“This is a trust distribution summary from four years ago.”
“That was when my father died.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca pointed to the bottom.
“One of the old accounts was reactivated after Salvatore's death. A substantial amount was transferred to a company registered under your name.”
Carmine frowned.
“I never authorized that.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“The records say otherwise.”
At that exact moment, Carmine's phone began ringing.
It was Conrad Bellarose.
Carmine answered.
Conrad sounded cheerful.
“I assume you've enjoyed your little investigation.”
“What do you want?”
“To remind you that the gala begins tomorrow evening.”
“I'm not signing your contract.”
“Oh, I think you have bigger problems now.”
Carmine looked toward Rebecca.
“What problems?”
Conrad laughed.
“Check the news.”
Benny switched on the television.
A local reporter stood outside City Hall.
BREAKING NEWS: NEW EVIDENCE LINKS ORSINI FAMILY TO MILLIONS IN MISSING CHARITY FUNDS.
Photographs of Carmine appeared beside copies of financial records.
The reporter continued.
“Authorities are reportedly investigating whether Carmine Orsini personally benefited from fraudulent charitable transactions.”
Nell stared at the screen.
Then came the words that silenced the entire room.
“An arrest warrant has been issued for Carmine Orsini.”
Outside the estate, blue police lights began flashing.
Carmine stood.
Benny moved toward the door.
“Boss, we can get you out.”
Carmine shook his head.
“No.”
Nell grabbed his arm.
“They're framing you!”
“I know.”
“Then don't let them take you.”
Carmine looked at her.
“If I run, they'll use it to destroy every piece of evidence we have.”
The front doorbell rang.
Carmine gently removed her hand.
“Trust Rebecca. Trust Benny. And don't stop.”
Nell's eyes filled.
“What about you?”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“Bring the truth into the light.”
May you like
Then the front doors opened.
And Carmine Orsini walked out to be arrested for a crime he had spent four days trying to expose.
