Chapter 7 - The Medicine Hidden in Isabella's Room|
I held the empty prescription bottle carefully.
Teresa's name was printed across the label.
But the medication listed beneath it wasn't familiar.
I had helped organize her daily pills for weeks.
Blood pressure medication.
A small dose of medication for arthritis-related discomfort.
Vitamins.
Nothing resembling the name on this bottle.
“Where did you find it?” I whispered.
“In the trash bag outside Isabella's dressing room,” Mrs. Romano replied.
“Does Luca know?”
“Not yet.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“Then we need to tell him.”
Mrs. Romano nodded.
We found Luca in his office.
He was speaking with Arthur Whitcomb.
When he saw our faces, he ended the call.
“What happened?”
Mrs. Romano placed the pharmacy bag on his desk.
“I found this.”
Luca studied the bottle.
Then looked at me.
“Is it my mother's medication?”
“Her name is on it,” I said. “But I've never seen her take it.”
His expression darkened.
He reached for his phone.
“I'm calling her doctor.”
I nodded.
“Please don't let anyone else handle it before Detective Harris sees it.”
He looked at me.
Then nodded.
“Good thinking.”
The household physician, Dr. Samuel Reed, arrived an hour later.
He examined Teresa's current medication list.
Then reviewed the information visible on the discarded bottle.
His expression became serious.
“This isn't something I prescribed.”
Luca leaned forward.
“What is it?”
“A sedating medication sometimes used under medical supervision for certain conditions.”
My stomach tightened.
“Could it make someone sleepy?”
“Yes.”
“Confused?”
“Depending on the dose, the person's health, and other medications, it could cause dizziness, sedation, or confusion.”
Teresa was sitting beside me.
Her face had gone pale.
“I've been feeling sleepy after my evening tea.”
Dr. Reed turned toward her.
“How often?”
“Several times this month.”
“Did you notice any unusual taste?”
She thought carefully.
“Bitter, sometimes.”
Luca's jaw clenched.
“Can you test her?”
“Yes, though timing matters. Some substances become difficult to detect after a certain period.”
He recommended a medical evaluation and appropriate laboratory testing.
Detective Harris arrived shortly afterward.
He arranged for the bottle to be collected and documented.
Then he asked Teresa several questions.
Had she knowingly taken the medication?
No.
Had she requested it?
No.
Did she know who obtained it?
No.
But she remembered something.
“Isabella insisted on bringing my tea herself on the nights I felt sick.”
The room went silent.
Luca looked toward the fireplace.
I could see him struggling with anger.
Harris continued questioning Teresa gently.
“When was the last time you felt unusually sleepy?”
“Tuesday.”
“Did anything happen that evening?”
She closed her eyes.
Then nodded.
“Isabella brought a man to my room.”
My heart stopped.
“What man?” Luca asked.
Teresa frowned.
“I don't remember his face clearly.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Her hands began shaking.
“He asked me whether I trusted Isabella.”
Luca crouched beside her.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said no.”
He swallowed.
Teresa continued.
“Then he asked me to sign something.”
My stomach turned.
“Did you?”
“I don't remember.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I remember feeling very tired. Then I woke up the next morning.”
I reached for her hand.
“Mrs. Moretti, it's okay.”
She shook her head.
“No, Emma.”
Her voice trembled.
“It isn't okay.”
For the first time since I'd met her, Teresa looked truly frightened.
Not because she was eighty.
Not because she needed help walking.
But because someone might have used her vulnerability against her.
Luca reached for her other hand.
“Ma, we're going to find out what happened.”
She looked at him.
“Promise?”
“I promise we'll do everything we can to learn the truth.”
Detective Harris checked the mansion's security records.
The east-wing cameras showed a man arriving at 8:46 p.m. on Tuesday.
He entered through the service entrance.
Isabella met him.
Together, they went upstairs.
At 9:13, they entered Teresa's room.
At 9:41, the man left.
Luca stared at the screen.
“Who is he?”
Anthony enlarged the image.
The man was middle-aged.
Gray-haired.
Wearing a dark suit.
He carried a leather briefcase.
Harris examined the photograph.
Then said, “We'll identify him.”
But Teresa suddenly gripped my arm.
“Wait.”
I turned.
“What is it?”
She pointed at the screen.
“The briefcase.”
I looked.
“What about it?”
She swallowed.
“I remember that.”
Luca leaned closer.
“Ma?”
Teresa's voice shook.
“He opened it beside my bed.”
“What was inside?”
“Papers.”
“What kind?”
She closed her eyes.
Then whispered, “He said I needed to sign something before I became too confused to understand it.”
The room went completely silent.
Luca stared at the screen.
Then looked at Harris.
“Find him.”
The detective nodded.
“We will.”
But before anyone could move, Anthony's phone rang.
He answered.
Then his expression changed.
“Boss.”
Luca turned.
“What?”
“Security just received a call from the private medical center.”
“About what?”
Anthony swallowed.
“They're asking whether Mrs. Moretti will still be arriving tomorrow.”
Teresa stared.
“I don't have an appointment tomorrow.”
Anthony looked at Luca.
“According to their records, she's scheduled for permanent admission.”
My mouth went dry.
Permanent admission.
Not an assessment.
Not a consultation.
May you like
Someone had already arranged to move Teresa out of her home.
And the admission papers supposedly carried her signature.
Related Stories
