Chapter 3 - Walter’s Fourth Rule

Walter did not walk toward them quickly.

He never did anything quickly.

That made Santino more alert.

The old butler stopped 6 ft away.

He looked at Caitlyn.

Then at Helen through the glass.

Then at Santino.

“You opened Anthony’s letter.”

Santino stared.

“You knew.”

Walter nodded.

“For a long time.”

“How long?”

“Twelve years.”

Caitlyn looked at him.

“You knew my father?”

“Yes.”

She went still.

Walter continued.

“He came to the house twice.”

Santino’s face hardened.

“My mother met him.”

“Yes.”

“You arranged it.”

Walter nodded.

Santino laughed quietly.

“Apparently everyone in my house had a second job.”

Walter accepted that.

Santino held up the passport.

“Did you know who Caitlyn was when you hired her?”

“No.”

Caitlyn looked surprised.

Walter turned toward her.

“I knew your mother.”

Helen.

Not Caitlyn.

Walter looked through the clinic doors.

“I recognized her the first morning.”

Caitlyn whispered:

“Why did you not say anything?”

“Because she looked afraid.”

“That was enough?”

“No.”

Walter’s eyes moved to Santino.

“Because your mother once made me promise something.”

Santino’s jaw tightened.

“What?”

Walter took a breath.

“If Anthony Marchetti’s family ever came to the house, I was not to turn them away.”

Silence.

Caitlyn covered her mouth.

Santino stared.

“My mother said that.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Two months before she died.”

Santino looked toward the dark parking lot.

“Why?”

Walter answered:

“Because she believed Anthony had evidence.”

“Of Lorenzo stealing the money.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

Walter looked down.

Santino noticed.

“And?”

The butler’s voice lowered.

“She believed Lorenzo had done something worse.”

Caitlyn looked at him.

“What?”

Walter looked at Santino.

“Your mother’s stroke.”

The air changed.

Santino did not move.

“What about it?”

Walter said:

“She did not believe it was natural.”

Caitlyn stared.

Santino’s voice remained quiet.

“Who did she suspect?”

Walter looked at the hospital doors.

“Lorenzo.”

Santino laughed once.

Not because it was funny.

Because the alternative was worse.

“My uncle killed my mother.”

“I did not say that.”

“You said she suspected him.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Walter looked at Caitlyn.

“Because Anthony found payments to a private clinic.”

Santino frowned.

“What clinic?”

Walter hesitated.

“Saint Matthew’s.”

Caitlyn went pale.

Santino noticed.

“What?”

She looked at him.

“My father died there.”

Silence.

Walter stared at her.

“When?”

“Three years ago.”

“What was he treated for?”

“Heart failure.”

Walter closed his eyes.

Santino saw it.

“You know something.”

Walter answered:

“Your mother was treated there too.”

Santino stopped.

“For what?”

Walter looked at him.

“Before her stroke.”

Santino’s hands tightened.

“She never told me.”

“No.”

“What treatment?”

“I do not know.”

Caitlyn whispered:

“My father said the clinic kept files off the main system.”

Walter looked at her.

“Did he say why?”

“No.”

Santino looked at the letter.

Then the clinic.

Then Walter.

“Who owns Saint Matthew’s?”

Walter answered:

“Not officially?”

Santino’s face hardened.

“Officially first.”

“A charitable trust.”

“And unofficially?”

Walter looked toward the road.

“Lorenzo financed it for years.”

Silence.

Santino reached for his phone.

Walter stopped him.

“Do not call the clinic.”

“Why?”

“Because if anyone there remembers Anthony, they will know Caitlyn is alive.”

Caitlyn stared.

Santino looked at her.

“Why would that matter?”

Walter answered.

“Because the ledgers were never found.”

Santino understood.

“They think she has them.”

Walter nodded.

Caitlyn shook her head.

“I do not.”

Walter looked at her.

“Your father may have believed you were safer not knowing.”

Santino laughed bitterly.

“That philosophy seems popular.”

Walter ignored it.

He reached into his coat.

A key.

Old brass.

Caitlyn recognized it.

“My father had one like that.”

Walter nodded.

“Your mother gave me this.”

Santino frowned.

“My mother?”

“Yes.”

“To what?”

Walter looked at Caitlyn.

“A bank deposit box.”

Caitlyn stopped breathing.

Santino stared.

“Where?”

“Providence.”

“When did she give it to you?”

“Two weeks before she died.”

Santino’s face changed.

“And you waited 9 years.”

Walter nodded.

Santino’s voice was almost calm.

“Why?”

“Because the box required 2 keys.”

He held up one.

“The other belonged to Anthony.”

Caitlyn looked down.

“My father’s key disappeared when he died.”

Walter looked at her canvas bag.

“Did it?”

She frowned.

Then remembered.

The suitcase.

The 3 wrapped portions of money.

The false bottom her mother never let her touch.

Caitlyn whispered:

“My mother.”

They went inside.

Helen was awake.

She looked at Santino.

Then Walter.

Then the passport.

Her face changed.

“No.”

Caitlyn sat beside her.

“Mom.”

Helen closed her eyes.

“No.”

“Do you have Dad’s key?”

Helen looked at Walter.

“You told him.”

Walter shook his head.

“The brooch did.”

Helen looked at Caitlyn.

“You took it.”

Caitlyn began crying.

“Yes.”

Helen looked toward Santino.

“I am sorry.”

He said nothing.

She took a long breath.

Then reached beneath the blanket over her legs.

A small chain around her neck.

One brass key.

She removed it.

“I kept this for 3 years.”

Santino stared.

Helen held it out.

“But the box is not the dangerous part.”

Walter frowned.

“What is?”

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Helen looked at Santino.

“What your mother put inside.”