Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Rocco took Evelyn to a private office and asked her to tell him everything she remembered about Rose Hartwell.
“She restored furniture,” Evelyn said. “Collected lamps. Thought every problem could be solved with tea. She died when I was twelve.”
“Did she ever mention Antonio Ventresca?”
“No.”
He placed the photograph on the desk. Rose was not smiling. Her hand rested on a leather folder, and Antonio appeared to be listening carefully.
“What was happening at the warehouse?” Evelyn asked.
Rocco opened a document. “The property was part of a redevelopment agreement. My father planned to turn it into a distribution center. The sale was challenged after a company claimed the land had been transferred under false authority.”
“Was it?”
“We don’t know. The original records disappeared.”
Evelyn thought of the brass lamp in her mother’s house. Its base had always seemed unusually heavy. Rose had warned her never to polish the engraved plate.
“What if I look at it?”
“Not alone,” Rocco said.
“I didn’t say I was going alone.”
His eyes held hers. Before he could answer, Frankie entered. A temporary caterer named Caleb Dunn had used a staff access card to enter the archive. The agency said he had been recommended by someone at the Hartwell residence.
Evelyn called Margaret again.
“Did you recommend a caterer named Caleb Dunn?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Did you know Antonio Ventresca?”
“Your grandmother made a mistake,” Margaret said after a long pause. “She trusted a man who had no business asking for her help.”
“Antonio?”
“Evelyn, leave it alone.”
The call ended.
They drove to Margaret’s house after midnight. She was waiting in the kitchen, an untouched cup of tea before her.
“Your grandmother kept something from him,” Margaret admitted. “And if you find it, people will get hurt.”
“What did she keep?”
“The truth about who owned that warehouse.”
Margaret led them to the attic. Beneath a linen cloth stood the brass lamp. Rocco carefully removed the plate beneath its base. Inside was a folded sheet sealed in waxed cloth.
Evelyn opened it. A hand-drawn map showed the warehouse parcel and a list of names: Rose Hartwell, Antonio Ventresca, and Peter Vale.
At the bottom, Rose had written: THE LAND WAS NEVER SOLD. THE SIGNATURE WAS TAKEN.
Rocco’s face hardened. “My father may have built his company on property that belonged to someone else.”
Margaret sat on an old trunk. She explained that Rose had discovered the forged transfer after Peter Vale died. Rose wanted to go to the authorities. Antonio begged her to wait, promising he would correct the matter privately.
“Did he?” Evelyn asked.
“No,” Margaret whispered. “He paid her to stay quiet.”
Rocco looked at her. “And did she?”
Margaret shook her head. “She refused the money. Then the threats began.”
A sound came from downstairs. Someone had entered the house.
A man called Margaret’s name.
May you like
She went pale.
“Caleb Dunn,” she whispered.
