Chapter 6 - The Blue Box Beneath the Piano|
Nobody spoke as Luca held his father's note.
Rosa stared at the familiar handwriting as though Frank had reached across eighteen months of silence to touch her hand.
"That's your father's writing," she whispered.
Luca nodded.
"I know, Mama."
Matteo examined the hidden compartment beneath the chair.
"This wasn't made recently."
He ran his fingers along the smooth wooden edges.
"Papa must have had it installed before he died."
Olivia looked toward the antique piano in the adjoining sitting room.
"And he wanted Mama to find the blue box."
Rosa reached instinctively toward the tiny brass key around her neck.
For the first time that morning, she looked determined instead of frightened.
"Then we should go find it."
We crossed the hallway together.
The sitting room had remained largely unchanged since Frank's death.
Heavy velvet curtains framed the windows.
Family photographs covered the mantelpiece.
And against the far wall stood the old upright piano that Frank's mother had brought to Chicago when she was a young immigrant.
Rosa approached it slowly.
"Your father loved this piano."
She touched its polished surface.
"He couldn't play very well, but he always pretended he could."
Matteo smiled.
"Papa knew exactly three songs."
"Two," Olivia corrected.
"He only played the third one when he'd had too much wine."
For a brief moment, everyone laughed.
Then Luca knelt beside the instrument.
"Claire, where did you see the compartment?"
I crouched next to him.
"Underneath the left side."
I pointed toward a narrow brass plate almost concealed by the woodwork.
"There's a keyhole here."
Rosa removed the tiny key from her necklace.
Her hands trembled as she handed it to Luca.
He inserted it carefully.
For one terrible second, nothing happened.
Then came a quiet metallic click.
A small wooden drawer slid forward.
Inside sat a rectangular blue metal box.
Its paint was scratched.
A faded white ribbon had been tied around its lid.
Rosa pressed a hand against her chest.
"Oh, Frank."
Luca lifted the box onto the piano bench.
"Do you want to open it, Mama?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
He carefully untied the ribbon.
Inside were several envelopes, a small black memory card sealed in a plastic sleeve, and a thick bundle of financial records.
On top lay another handwritten note.
Luca unfolded it.
His expression changed as he read.
Then he handed it to his mother.
Rosa looked at the words.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Read it for me, sweetheart."
Luca cleared his throat.
"Rosa, if you're reading this, then I have failed to solve a problem before it reached our family."
His voice became unsteady.
"I should have told you what I discovered, but I wanted to protect you from the ugliness of it."
Luca paused.
Rosa reached for his hand.
He continued.
"The money meant for the people we promised to help has been diverted."
"I believe the people responsible are closer to us than I ever imagined."
"I have kept copies of what I found, and I will make certain the truth reaches the proper authorities."
Luca stopped again.
His jaw tightened.
Then he read the final lines.
"Whatever happens, remember that the foundation was never about our name."
"It was about the people sitting at tables where there wasn't enough food."
"Never let anyone convince you that you have no place at your own table."
Rosa began crying quietly.
Matteo turned away.
Olivia wiped her cheeks.
I stared at the elderly woman standing beside the piano.
For eighteen months, she had believed her husband died disappointed in her.
Now his own words were telling her something entirely different.
Luca placed the letter gently into her hands.
"Papa loved you, Mama."
Rosa pressed the paper against her heart.
"He always made me feel as though I mattered."
"You do matter."
She looked up at him.
"Then promise me something."
"Anything."
"Don't let what happened to your father turn you into a man who forgets how to love his family."
Luca lowered his head.
"I promise."
Abigail Grant arrived shortly afterward.
She examined the financial records at the dining table while the rest of us waited.
Several pages contained bank transfers from the Moretti Family Foundation to a company called Bellwether Consulting Group.
The transfers had begun shortly before Frank's death.
Some were described as consulting fees.
Others were labeled property development expenses.
But the amounts were enormous.
Abigail carefully totaled the figures.
Then she looked up.
"Three million, two hundred thousand dollars."
Matteo stared at her.
"Missing?"
"Transferred to an entity whose work I can't verify from these records."
Luca leaned forward.
"Who authorized the payments?"
Abigail turned the papers around.
Two signatures appeared repeatedly.
Julian Cross.
And Vanessa Bellini.
I felt cold.
Rosa whispered, "My husband knew."
Abigail nodded.
"It appears he was investigating."
Luca stared at the signatures.
"Vanessa told me she met Cross through a charity project after Papa died."
Matteo shook his head.
"Then she lied about that too."
Abigail lifted the small black memory card from the box.
"What's this?"
Luca studied it.
"I don't know."
A narrow label had been attached to its protective sleeve.
Written in Frank's handwriting were four words.
THE NIGHT THEY CAME.
Nobody moved.
Olivia stared at the card.
"Is that what I think it is?"
Abigail carefully returned it to the sleeve.
"We won't know until a qualified technician examines it."
Luca stood.
"Then find one."
He looked toward Anthony, who was waiting near the doorway.
"And I want the old surveillance system checked."
Anthony hesitated.
"Sir, there may be a problem."
Luca turned.
"What problem?"
"The recordings from the night your father died were reported as corrupted."
"Reported by whom?"
Anthony swallowed.
"Mr. Cross."
A long silence followed.
Then Anthony added something that made every person in the room stare at him.
"Mr. Moretti, your father insisted on keeping an independent backup system."
Luca frowned.
"Where?"
Anthony looked uncomfortable.
"At the old family workshop on Ash Street."
Matteo slowly raised his head.
"Papa's first business?"
Anthony nodded.
"Yes, sir."
Luca reached for his coat.
But before he could leave, my phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number appeared on the screen.
I opened the message.
There was no greeting.
May you like
Only one sentence.
"Tell Rosa the blue box won't save her, and tell Luca to stop looking before someone else dies."
