Chương 6
A man’s voice carried through the foyer.
Sal had arrived.
Dante stood.
Lucia nearly lost one slipper as she backed away.
“Go to the kitchen,” he said.
“You said straight there isn’t wandering.”
“Tonight, go very straight.”
She hurried out.
Dante gathered the payroll files into the desk drawer, leaving only the open envelope and the pouch containing his father’s lighter on the table. He returned to the leather chair and positioned the damp windbreaker’s faint mark beneath the fold of his trousers.
Salvatore Greco entered without knocking.
At forty-two, Sal had maintained the compact, careful appearance of a man who distrusted appetite. His dark suit fit perfectly. Snow melted across the shoulders of his overcoat. He removed leather gloves one finger at a time and looked around the library before looking at Dante.
“You should be in bed.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“I drove through a blizzard because Rocco said Elena took the envelope.”
“Did he?”
Sal’s eyes moved to the cream paper beside the lamp.
“You haven’t counted it?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Five thousand.”
A small pause.
“Then what did she take?”
Dante watched him. “Why assume she took something?”
“Rocco said she failed.”
“Perhaps she drank the bourbon.”
“You don’t joke when you’re sick.”
“I don’t usually get an audience worth the effort.”
Sal removed his coat and draped it over a chair.
“Where is she?”
“In the kitchen.”
“You left her loose in the house?”
“She’s a maid, Sal, not a wolf.”
“She’s a suspect.”
“In what?”
“The cash, the lighter, and whatever else we haven’t noticed.”
Dante lifted the evidence pouch.
“You found this in her locker.”
“Owen did.”
“Before we completed the test.”
Sal sat opposite him. “I wanted her locker checked before she realized we suspected her.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell Rocco directly?”
“He’s suspicious of any instruction that doesn’t originate in his own head.”
“That’s why he’s useful.”
Sal leaned back. “What are we doing, Dante?”
“We’re talking.”
“No. We’re circling something because you’re in a mood.”
Dante let the silence lengthen.
Sal had always disliked silence. He covered it with organization.
“The evidence is straightforward,” Sal continued. “Elena has debt, access, and now stolen property in her locker. Fire her tonight. We’ll refer the thefts to the police if you want pressure, though I’d advise against inviting them into the estate.”
“How much does she owe?”
“One hundred fourteen thousand, including interest.”
“Yesterday you said ninety.”
“I said more than ninety.”
“What was the original amount?”
Sal glanced toward the fire. “One hundred twenty.”
“And she has paid six years?”
“Not consistently.”
“She says deductions come from every check.”
“She says many things now that she’s been caught.”
Dante picked up the pouch.
“How did she get this?”
“She took it.”
“When?”
“Whenever she had access.”
“The lighter disappeared from the morning room on a Monday. Elena doesn’t work in that wing on Mondays.”
“Schedules change.”
“Security footage shows her leaving at five twenty. The lighter was used by me at six.”
Sal’s gaze returned to him. “Then she came back.”
“There is no gate record.”
“Someone let her in.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. That’s why we investigate after removing her from the house.”
Dante turned the pouch over in his hand.
“Lucia was in the laundry room last week.”
Sal’s face did not move enough to betray him, but his thumb stopped against the edge of his cuff.
“Lucia?”
“Elena’s daughter.”
“I know who she is.”
“She saw you and Owen carrying a box.”
Sal gave a quiet laugh. “You’re taking testimony from a six-year-old?”
“I’m having a conversation with my cousin.”
“Then speak to me as your cousin. Children invent things. Especially frightened children whose mothers are in trouble.”
“She described Owen’s bald spot.”
“That proves she’s seen Owen.”
“She heard you say Friday would be Elena’s last day.”
Sal’s eyes narrowed. “I told Elena her debt review was due Friday. The child may have misunderstood.”
“Did you place anything in Elena’s locker?”
“No.”
The answer came cleanly.
Dante had heard Sal lie before. Everyone in their business lied. The skill lay not in avoiding falsehood but in knowing which truths could survive it.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Dante reached for the desk phone and pressed a button.
Rocco answered immediately.
“Bring Owen to the library.”
Sal looked at the phone, then at Dante.
“You’re making this theatrical.”
“I’m sick. I require entertainment.”
Owen Pike arrived five minutes later with sweat already darkening the collar of his shirt despite the cold house. He was thirty-six and had worked under Sal for eight years, first as a junior accountant and later as controller for several Marchetti properties. He smelled faintly of cinnamon gum.
Lucia’s description returned to Dante with unwanted precision.
Owen stopped near the doorway. “You wanted me?”
Dante pointed to the pouch. “Where did you find the lighter?”
“In Elena Bianchi’s locker.”
“What time?”
“Six twenty this morning.”
“Who was present?”
“Tom and Luis from maintenance.”
“Why were you searching lockers?”
Owen glanced at Sal.
Dante noticed.
“Look at me,” he said.
Owen obeyed.
“Why?”
“Mr. Greco authorized an internal review.”
“What else did you find?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you place the lighter there?”
“No.”
“Did Sal?”
“No.”
“Did you carry a box into the laundry room last week?”
Owen’s eyes flickered.
Sal spoke before he could answer. “This is absurd.”
Dante did not look away from Owen. “Did you?”
“We moved archived personnel records.”
“Into Elena’s locker?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“The records room.”
“Which one?”
“The east service room.”
“There is no east service records room.”
Owen swallowed.
Sal rose. “Enough. He’s nervous because you’re interrogating him over the imagination of a child.”
Dante looked at his cousin.
“I didn’t say the child saw him put anything in the locker.”
The library became very quiet.
Sal’s mouth remained slightly open.
Owen closed his eyes.
May you like
Rocco entered behind him and shut the door.
Dante felt no satisfaction. Only a widening emptiness, cold and familiar. Betrayal was rarely surprising in his life. What surprised him was the number of times he continued to grant people the tools for it.
