Chapter 3 - The Box Vincent’s Father Hid
Vincent returned to the estate at 1:06 a.m.
The engagement party was over.
Almost.
Thirty guests remained because security had locked the property.
His uncle sat in the ballroom.
Calm.
Sofia’s father was gone.
Sofia stood near the fireplace.
Still wearing red.
One glove missing.
Vincent entered holding it.
She stared.
“You found it.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
His uncle smiled.
“Dramatic.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Where is Carlo DeLuca?”
Sofia’s father.
Retired accountant.
Former financial adviser to the Marchetti family.
His uncle spread his hands.
“No idea.”
Vincent walked closer.
“My mother says you ordered my father killed.”
The ballroom went silent.
His uncle’s smile faded.
“That woman has spent nineteen years blaming me for everything.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Vincent placed the notebook on the table.
“Your name is here.”
“So is half the city.”
“Payments.”
“Properties.”
“Transfers.”
“Business.”
“Crime.”
His uncle laughed.
“Same records, different vocabulary.”
Vincent leaned closer.
“Did you kill my father?”
“No.”
“Did you order it?”
“No.”
Leonard entered behind us.
“He’s lying.”
The uncle looked at him.
“You should have retired ten years ago.”
Leonard smiled.
“You should have been arrested twenty.”
Sofia stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Where is your father?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he tell you?”
She hesitated.
Vincent stared.
“Sofia.”
“He said he found the box.”
Silence.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Where?”
“In the country house.”
Leonard frowned.
“That drawer was locked.”
Sofia looked at him.
“My father had a key.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“How?”
She swallowed.
“Your father gave it to him.”
“Before he died?”
“Yes.”
Vincent stared.
“My father trusted him.”
“At first.”
Leonard added:
“Until he helped cover up the murder.”
Sofia looked at the old man.
“My father says he had no choice.”
Vincent whispered:
“Everyone had a choice.”
Sofia cried.
“I know.”
He held up the glove.
“Why was this there?”
“I went back after seeing your mother.”
“Why?”
“My father called.”
“What did he want?”
“He asked me to meet him upstairs.”
Vincent’s voice sharpened.
“What did he show you?”
Sofia looked toward Vincent’s uncle.
The uncle’s expression changed.
She noticed.
So did Vincent.
Sofia whispered:
“A recording.”
The uncle stood.
Vincent’s security moved immediately.
“Sit down.”
He did.
Slowly.
Vincent looked at Sofia.
“What recording?”
“My father and your father.”
“When?”
“The night before your father died.”
Leonard stared.
“You heard it?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
Sofia looked at Vincent.
“Your father knew who was going to kill him.”
Silence.
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
“Who?”
Sofia’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
The lights went out.
Someone screamed.
A chair moved.
Glass broke.
Vincent shouted:
“Lock every door!”
Emergency lights came on.
Red.
Dim.
His uncle was still seated.
Sofia was gone.
Vincent stared.
The side door stood open.
Security ran.
Leonard looked toward the table.
The notebook was gone too.
Vincent’s phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT SOFIA AND HER FATHER ALIVE.
Below it:
A photograph.
Sofia.
Hands tied.
Her father beside her.
Alive.
Behind them was a wall Vincent recognized.
Old wine cellar.
Country house.
Leonard whispered:
“They went back.”
Vincent read the next message.
BRING ISABELLA.
His face changed.
Leonard shook his head.
“No.”
Vincent looked at him.
“They want my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Leonard looked toward Vincent’s uncle.
The older man no longer looked amused.
Vincent noticed.
“You know.”
His uncle said nothing.
Vincent stepped closer.
“Why do they want my mother?”
His uncle looked at him.
Then toward the empty ballroom doors.
“Because the box doesn’t matter without her.”
Vincent stared.
“What does that mean?”
The uncle sighed.
“Your father didn’t hide financial records.”
Leonard frowned.
“What?”
“He hid ownership documents.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“Ownership of what?”
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“Everything.”
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