Chapter 4 - THE AFTERNOON BEFORE MATTEO DIED
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“Vanessa was at the garage.”
The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them.
Luca turned toward me.
“What?”
I swallowed.
“The afternoon Dario took Matteo's car into the garage, Vanessa was there.”
Detective Reyes immediately pulled out a chair.
“Claire, sit down.”
I shook my head.
“I need to tell you what I remember.”
“Then take your time.”
I closed my eyes.
It had been a cold Thursday afternoon, eleven months earlier.
The mansion smelled of fresh coffee and furniture polish.
Matteo had stopped by to collect some papers from his brother's study.
I remembered how happy he'd seemed.
He'd found me carrying a basket of clean towels through the hallway.
“Claire, you're working too hard again,” he'd said.
I had laughed.
“And you're visiting without warning again, Mr. Matteo.”
He'd reached into his coat and handed me a small box of chocolate-covered cherries.
“For the hardest-working person in this house.”
That was Matteo.
Always kind.
Always remembering that the people who cleaned the floors had lives outside the mansion.
Twenty minutes later, I'd been standing near the kitchen window when a familiar black car rolled down the driveway.
Matteo's car.
But Matteo wasn't driving.
Dario was.
Beside him sat a blonde woman wearing a cream-colored coat.
At the time, I hadn't been certain it was Vanessa.
I'd only seen her profile.
She'd started visiting Luca regularly, and I knew very little about her.
Now I remembered the diamond earrings.
The blonde hair pinned beneath a silk scarf.
And the way she'd turned her face away when Dario stopped near the garage.
“It was Vanessa,” I whispered.
“I'm certain now.”
Reyes leaned forward.
“What happened next?”
“Dario drove into the garage.”
“Did anyone else go inside?”
“I saw Graham Beck open the service door.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“Graham?”
I nodded.
“He was carrying his security radio.”
Reyes asked another question.
“How long did the vehicle remain inside?”
“I don't know.”
Then I remembered something.
“The maintenance records.”
Everyone looked at me.
“I used to keep copies of the daily garage delivery sheets.”
“Why?” Reyes asked.
“Because the housekeeper needed to reconcile cleaning and supply charges at the end of each month.”
Luca frowned.
“Where are those records?”
“In the basement storage room.”
I hadn't visited that room in months.
Most people hated going down there because it smelled of dust and old paint.
But I knew exactly where the files were kept.
The detectives followed me downstairs.
Luca and Sofia came with us.
Beneath the old kitchen was a narrow hallway filled with metal filing cabinets.
I found the cabinet marked Maintenance.
My hands were trembling so badly that I dropped the first folder.
“Claire,” Luca said gently.
“You don't have to do this alone.”
I looked at him.
“Matteo never let anyone make me feel small.”
My voice broke.
“I can't let them erase what happened to him.”
Luca stepped back.
He let me continue.
After several minutes, I found the right folder.
The date was written across the top.
November 20.
The day before Matteo's fatal crash.
I opened it.
There, on a yellow service sheet, was an entry for Matteo's vehicle.
Vehicle received: 4:17 p.m.
Authorized by: D. Moretti.
Service requested: Private inspection.
Below the entry was another line.
Vehicle released: 4:43 p.m.
Twenty-six minutes.
That was how long Dario had kept Matteo's car inside the garage.
Reyes photographed the record.
“Who's Eddie Salazar?”
I looked at the name beside the service-bay assignment.
“He was the senior mechanic.”
“Does he still work here?”
“No.”
Luca answered before I could.
“He resigned shortly after Matteo died.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don't know.”
Reyes turned to one of her officers.
“Find him.”
Then she pointed to another notation.
Outside technician: P. Kline.
Patrick Kline.
The man police had found unconscious beside Dario's getaway car.
My stomach tightened.
“He was there,” I whispered.
Reyes nodded.
“Apparently.”
Sofia gripped the edge of the filing cabinet.
“Does that mean Patrick helped kill Matteo?”
“We don't know that yet,” Reyes replied.
“But we have a reason to ask him some difficult questions.”
Luca stared at the yellow page.
He looked older than he had at the wedding.
“I remember that Thursday,” he said quietly.
“Matteo asked to speak to me.”
Sofia lifted her head.
“About what?”
“He said he'd found something in our accounts.”
“What did you tell him?”
Luca looked ashamed.
“I told him I was busy.”
Nobody spoke.
“I had dinner plans with Vanessa.”
His voice sounded hollow.
“I told Matteo we could talk the following week.”
Sofia began crying again.
“He died the next morning.”
Luca pressed his palms against the cabinet.
“I know.”
For a moment, I was afraid he might break something.
Instead, he whispered two terrible words.
“I know.”
Detective Reyes collected the original record in an evidence sleeve.
Then she asked me to accompany her upstairs.
We were halfway through the hallway when my phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent me a message.
At first, I thought it was spam.
Then I opened it.
There was a photograph of the mansion's kitchen window.
The picture had been taken from outside.
Through the glass, I could see myself standing beside a basket of towels.
The timestamp was from the afternoon before Matteo died.
Someone had photographed me watching the garage.
Below the picture was a single sentence.
You should have kept your eyes on your work, Claire.
I stopped walking.
Reyes noticed immediately.
“What is it?”
I showed her the screen.
She read the message.
Then she looked toward the dark staircase.
“Everyone upstairs.”
Luca stepped in front of Sofia.
“What's happening?”
Reyes lifted her radio.
“Whoever sent this knew Claire was a witness eleven months ago.”
May you like
She looked straight at Graham Beck, who was standing near the basement door.
“And someone inside this house has been keeping track of her ever since.”
