Chapter 3 - Seventeen Missed Calls
The account ending in 7719 did not belong to Emilio.
At least, not on paper.
By midnight, Martin Bell had confirmed that much.
The account was registered to a consulting company in Delaware called Orison Strategic Partners.
The company had no employees, no public office, and a mailing address shared by eighty-six other corporations.
That alone meant nothing.
What mattered was the money.
During the previous fourteen months, Moretti Maritime had paid Orison just over eight million dollars for "international advisory services."
Lucia sat at her mother's desk while Martin read the preliminary report aloud.
Giovanni stood by the window.
Emilio paced near the door.
Clarissa had been moved to a guest room under watch.
She had objected loudly.
Giovanni had ignored her quietly.
"Eight million is not eight hundred," Lucia said.
"Someone signed those payments."
Martin looked at Emilio.
"They carry your authorization code."
Emilio stopped pacing.
"My authorization code is used by my office."
"Your office says you personally approved five of the transfers."
"My office says whatever keeps them employed."
Lucia stared at him.
"You really cannot hear yourself anymore, can you?"
"And you really enjoy this."
"Our mother is dead."
"You keep saying that as if grief makes you honest."
Lucia stood.
"Leave."
Emilio laughed.
"This is my father's house."
Giovanni turned from the window.
"Leave."
Emilio's smile disappeared.
"You are taking her side before we know anything."
"I am taking your mother's side."
"She accused me from the grave."
"Then prove her wrong."
Emilio looked from his father to Lucia.
"Fine."
He reached for the door.
"Ask Clarissa who introduced me to Orison."
Lucia frowned.
"What?"
Emilio opened the door.
"You want your mystery."
He glanced back.
"Start with her."
He left before Giovanni could stop him.
Martin removed his glasses.
"Was that true?"
Lucia looked toward the hall.
"With Emilio, truth is usually whatever he thinks will hurt someone else first."
Giovanni walked to Helena's desk.
For a moment, his fingers hovered over the chair.
He could not bring himself to sit in it.
"Find out anyway."
Lucia nodded.
Then her phone rang.
It was her mother's assistant, Nora Keane.
Lucia answered immediately.
"Nora?"
The woman sounded frightened.
"I found something."
"What?"
"Not over the phone."
"Where are you?"
"At the office."
Lucia looked at the clock.
It was twelve twenty-eight in the morning.
"Why are you still there?"
Nora did not answer directly.
"Your mother told me if anything happened to her, I was supposed to print her phone records before anyone changed them."
Lucia felt a chill move across her shoulders.
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"Come here."
The line went dead.
Giovanni saw Lucia's face.
"What happened?"
"Nora found Mother's phone records."
"Send a car."
"She sounded afraid."
Giovanni was already reaching for his jacket.
"Then we go now."
Moretti Maritime's headquarters occupied fourteen floors above the harbor.
At one in the morning, most of the building was dark.
Lucia, Giovanni, and two security men entered through the underground garage.
The elevator rose without music.
Lucia watched the numbers climb and remembered being twelve years old, following Helena through these same halls while pretending to understand shipping contracts.
Her mother had built the legitimate company while Giovanni built the family name.
People remembered his power.
They often forgot her discipline.
The elevator opened on the executive floor.
Nora's desk lamp was on.
Her chair was empty.
"Nora?"
No answer.
Lucia walked faster.
Helena's office door stood open.
A drawer had been pulled out and dumped onto the carpet.
Folders covered the floor.
The desk computer was missing.
Giovanni stopped behind Lucia.
"Do not touch anything."
Lucia ignored him.
"Nora!"
A sound came from the records room.
One of the guards moved first.
He opened the door.
Nora sat on the floor behind a filing cabinet, shaking.
Her lip was split.
A red mark crossed one cheek.
Lucia dropped beside her.
"Who did this?"
Nora gripped her sleeve.
"They wanted the printout."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Giovanni crouched nearby.
"How many?"
"One man."
"You saw him?"
Nora shook her head.
"He wore a hood."
"What did he take?"
"The computer."
Lucia looked around.
"The phone records?"
Nora's eyes filled.
"He thinks he took them."
She reached under her blouse and pulled out a folded packet sealed inside a plastic sleeve.
Lucia almost laughed from relief.
Nora had hidden it against her body.
"Your mother told me not to trust the network," Nora whispered.
Giovanni looked at the packet.
"Smart woman."
Nora gave a weak, angry smile.
"She was."
At a secure conference room two floors below, Lucia spread the pages across a table.
Helena's outgoing calls filled eleven sheets.
Lucia found Emilio's number immediately.
Seventeen calls from Helena to Emilio in the last forty-eight hours of her life.
Sixteen had gone unanswered.
The seventeenth had connected for thirty-eight seconds.
Lucia stared at the line.
"He lied."
Giovanni's face tightened.
"When?"
"Tuesday at eleven forty-three at night."
"That was the night before she collapsed."
Nora nodded.
"I was with her until ten."
Lucia traced the record with her finger.
"Thirty-eight seconds."
Giovanni took out his phone.
"Bring Emilio downstairs."
Lucia looked at him.
"Wait."
He stopped.
"There is another number."
Helena had called it nine times.
The calls began three weeks earlier.
The final call occurred eleven minutes after the thirty-eight-second call to Emilio.
Lucia did not recognize the number.
Martin did.
He had joined them by secure video from his home.
His face changed when Lucia read it aloud.
"I know that number."
"Whose is it?"
Martin hesitated.
Giovanni leaned closer to the screen.
"Martin."
"It belongs to Assistant United States Attorney Daniel Reeve."
Silence filled the conference room.
Lucia stared at him.
"My mother was calling a federal prosecutor?"
"Apparently."
Giovanni's expression became unreadable.
"You knew him?"
"I know of him."
"That was not the question."
Martin removed his glasses.
"Helena asked me about immunity agreements two months ago."
Lucia stood so quickly her chair rolled backward.
"You never told us that."
"She invoked attorney-client privilege."
Giovanni's voice went low.
"She was my wife."
"She was also my client."
"What was she planning?"
"She did not say."
Lucia looked again at the call sheet.
Her mother had called a federal prosecutor eleven minutes after speaking with Emilio.
That timing could not be ignored.
"Did she meet Reeve?"
Martin shook his head.
"I do not know."
Nora spoke from the end of the table.
"I do."
Everyone turned.
She looked terrified by her own answer.
"Mrs. Moretti left the office twice without her driver last month."
Giovanni stared at her.
"Helena never drove herself downtown."
"She did not drive."
"Then who took her?"
Nora swallowed.
"Father Matteo."
Lucia closed her eyes.
The priest knew more than he had said.
Before they could call him, one of the guards entered the conference room.
"Mr. Moretti."
Giovanni turned.
"What?"
"We found the man who attacked Ms. Keane."
Nora stiffened.
"Where?"
"Security caught him leaving through the loading dock."
Lucia felt a surge of relief.
"Who is he?"
The guard hesitated.
"He is one of ours."
Giovanni stood.
"Name."
"Thomas Rizzo."
Giovanni's expression changed.
Lucia knew the name too.
Thomas had worked for the family for twelve years.
More importantly, he had spent the last three years assigned almost exclusively to Emilio.
Lucia looked at her father.
"Bring him here."
The guard nodded.
Ten minutes later, Thomas was led into the room with his wrists restrained.
He had a bruise on his forehead and blood dried beneath one nostril.
Giovanni remained seated.
"Why did you hurt Nora?"
Thomas said nothing.
"Who sent you?"
Still nothing.
Giovanni looked at Lucia.
She placed the call records on the table.
"You were looking for these."
Thomas's eyes moved to the packet despite himself.
Lucia saw it.
"Why?"
"I want a lawyer."
"Then you are suddenly more sensible than my brother."
Thomas looked at her.
"I did not kill your mother."
No one had accused him of that.
The room froze.
Giovanni rose slowly.
"Why would you say that?"
Thomas realized his mistake.
His breathing became shallow.
"I heard people talking."
"About what?"
"About her death."
"Who?"
Thomas looked toward the door.
"I want a lawyer."
Lucia leaned across the table.
"Did Emilio send you?"
Thomas shut his eyes.
"I want a lawyer."
"Did Clarissa?"
His eyes opened.
That reaction was smaller.
It was also clearer.
Lucia felt the answer before he spoke.
"You know her."
Thomas shook his head.
"No."
"You looked afraid when I said her name."
"I said no."
Giovanni moved around the table.
Thomas pushed back in his chair.
"Mr. Moretti, I did not kill your wife."
"Then tell me who you were protecting."
Thomas looked at Lucia.
He looked at Giovanni.
Then he said something that changed the shape of Helena's final days.
"Mrs. Moretti was not trying to expose Emilio."
Lucia's stomach tightened.
"What?"
Thomas swallowed.
"She was trying to save him."
Giovanni stared.
"From whom?"
Thomas's eyes shifted toward the dark windows.
"From the woman he brought to her funeral."
Thomas lowered his head after naming Clarissa, as if the name itself had exhausted him.
Lucia studied the man who had attacked Nora and wondered how many people had already done terrible things while insisting they were protecting someone from something worse.
Giovanni ordered everyone out except Marco and Daniel's liaison.
Lucia refused to go.
"This is Mother's investigation."
Giovanni looked at her.
"It is also dangerous."
"Those are not opposites."
Thomas gave a hollow laugh.
"Mrs. Moretti said that too."
Lucia turned sharply.
"When?"
"The last time she confronted me."
"About Clarissa?"
Thomas nodded.
"She told me I was protecting Emilio from the wrong danger."
"What did she think the right danger was?"
Thomas looked toward the door.
"His pride."
Lucia felt that answer settle into the room with uncomfortable accuracy.
Thomas had finally named a threat no bodyguard could remove.
And it belonged to Emilio himself.
Lucia looked once more at Helena's seventeen outgoing calls.
Sixteen had become accusations against absence.
The seventeenth had become a door into something worse.
She folded the records carefully and placed them inside Martin's case.
For the first time, she stopped wondering why Emilio had not answered.
May you like
She began wondering who had decided he should not hear what Helena was trying to say.
