Chapter 7 - THE APARTMENT NOBODY WAS ALLOWED TO ENTER|
The building on Chicago's West Side looked nothing like the Moretti mansion.
Its brick walls were weathered.
The front steps needed repair.
A faded blue awning hung above the entrance.
And the lobby smelled faintly of old books and lemon cleaner.
Luca stood outside with Detective Brooks, Daniel, and a court-authorized investigative team.
He had not visited the property in nearly fifteen years.
His father had once described it as a quiet place where people could begin again.
Luca had assumed Antonio meant employees who needed temporary housing.
Now he wondered what else the building had concealed.
“According to the property records,” Brooks said, “the building was transferred through several companies before reaching Northstar Holdings.”
“And someone used my mother's identity?”
“That's one possibility.”
Luca looked toward the entrance.
“Let's find out.”
The building manager was a small woman named Helen Porter.
She was sixty-eight, with silver glasses and a cautious expression.
When she saw Luca, her eyes widened.
“You look just like your father.”
“Did you know him?”
Helen nodded.
“He helped my husband get work when nobody else would.”
Brooks showed her identification.
“We'd like to ask about the building's ownership and occupants.”
Helen looked frightened.
“Is someone in trouble?”
“We're investigating financial crimes and a possible connection to an old death.”
Helen gripped the counter.
“Oh, dear.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Mrs. Porter, did my mother ever come here?”
“Every Thursday.”
Luca froze.
“My mother?”
“For years. She brought groceries and books.”
“Who was she visiting?”
Helen hesitated.
“Apartment 3B.”
Brooks exchanged a glance with Luca.
“Who lives there?”
Helen looked toward the stairs.
“A man named Thomas Reed.”
“Is that his legal name?”
“I don't know.”
“What can you tell us about him?”
Helen lowered her voice.
“He's very quiet. He rarely leaves. Mrs. Moretti always said he needed privacy.”
Luca's stomach tightened.
“Is he upstairs now?”
“I believe so.”
The investigators climbed to the third floor.
Luca stood beside the door marked 3B.
For several seconds, he couldn't bring himself to knock.
Then he raised his hand.
Three soft knocks echoed through the hallway.
A man's voice answered.
“Who is it?”
“Luca Moretti.”
Silence.
Then a chair scraped against the floor.
The door opened a few inches.
A thin man in his late fifties stared through the gap.
His face was lined with age.
His right hand trembled.
But Luca recognized him.
“Uncle Thomas?”
The man closed his eyes.
“Hello, Luca.”
Luca stepped backward.
Thomas Moretti had been his father's younger brother.
Eleven years ago, the family had been told Thomas died overseas.
Luca had attended a memorial service.
He had stood beside his mother while a priest spoke about forgiveness.
And now the supposedly dead man was standing in front of him.
“You're alive?”
Thomas nodded.
“I am.”
Luca's voice rose.
“Why did everyone tell me you were dead?”
Thomas looked toward the detective.
“Because the people who killed Antonio were looking for me.”
Brooks introduced herself and asked whether Thomas was willing to speak.
He stepped aside.
The apartment was simple but immaculate.
Books lined the walls.
A chessboard sat near the window.
On the mantel stood a photograph of Antonio and Thomas as young men.
Luca picked it up.
“My father thought you were dead?”
Thomas shook his head.
“He helped me disappear.”
Luca stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because I was the first person to discover what Richard Bellini was doing.”
Thomas sat slowly.
“Your father wasn't a saint, Luca. He made dangerous choices when he was young.”
“I know.”
“But he spent his final years trying to separate the legitimate family businesses from the people who used them to move illegal money.”
Luca remained silent.
“Richard didn't want that,” Thomas continued. “He had built a network of shell companies and false invoices. He was using the Moretti name as cover.”
“And my father found out?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't he go to the police?”
“He was gathering evidence.”
Thomas looked toward the window.
“Richard threatened Evelyn. Then he threatened you.”
Luca felt anger rising.
“What happened the night Father died?”
Thomas's expression changed.
“He called me and said he had finally identified the person who was altering his medication.”
Brooks leaned forward.
“Who?”
Thomas swallowed.
“He never told me.”
“Why not?”
“Because the call ended suddenly.”
Luca gripped the edge of the table.
“Did you hear anything?”
Thomas nodded.
“A woman arguing with him.”
Luca frowned.
“What woman?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“She was crying. She kept saying she had done everything Richard asked.”
Brooks wrote quickly.
“Can you identify her?”
Thomas opened his eyes.
“I thought I could.”
“Who did you think it was?”
Thomas looked directly at Luca.
“Your father's private nurse.”
Luca stared at him.
“My father didn't have a private nurse.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Yes, he did.”
He reached into a drawer and removed an old photograph.
A young woman stood beside Antonio's desk.
She had dark hair, gentle eyes, and a small silver cross around her neck.
Luca studied the photograph.
He didn't recognize her.
But Sarah would have.
May you like
Because the woman was her mother.
And she had disappeared when Sarah was sixteen.
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