Chapter 8 - The Quiet Man at Breakfast
Vincenzo Hale was eating toast when Alejandro entered the breakfast room.
That bothered Alejandro more than if the man had been holding a gun.
He looked exactly as he always did.
Gray hair.
Thin glasses.
Dark suit.
A folded newspaper beside his coffee.
Calm.
Unremarkable.
For twenty-seven years, that had been Vincenzo’s greatest talent.
He looked like someone nobody needed to remember.
“Alejandro.”
He smiled.
“I heard you had an unpleasant evening.”
“Did you?”
Vincenzo spread jam across toast.
“Gabriel called.”
Gabriel, standing behind Alejandro, said nothing.
Vincenzo noticed Elena next.
His knife stopped.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then Emma walked in holding Alejandro’s hand.
Vincenzo dropped the knife.
It struck the plate with a sharp crack.
Emma looked up.
“You’re the picture man.”
Vincenzo’s face changed.
Alejandro crouched beside her.
“What picture?”
“The one Mama tore.”
Elena went pale.
“What is she talking about?” Alejandro asked.
Elena stared at Vincenzo.
“After Luca died, I received a photograph in the mail.”
“Of?”
“Vincenzo standing outside our old apartment.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought he worked for you.”
Vincenzo slowly removed his glasses.
“This is getting theatrical.”
Tomas placed Henry Bell’s recovered message on the table.
Vincenzo read the transcript.
He laughed.
“Henry Bell was paranoid.”
“He was alive,” Tomas said.
“So were many paranoid people.”
“Where is he?”
“I have no idea.”
Alejandro sat opposite Vincenzo.
“Why did you use my uncle’s authorization on Bellweather transfers?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why did Luca connect you to the company?”
“You would have to ask Luca.”
“That’s difficult.”
Vincenzo’s eyes flicked toward Emma.
Mistake.
Small.
Fatal.
Alejandro saw it.
“You knew she was Luca’s daughter before breakfast.”
“No.”
“You looked at her before anyone introduced her.”
“She resembles him.”
“So much that you knew instantly?”
Vincenzo stood.
“I’m not staying for an interrogation built on grief and coincidence.”
Tomas blocked the door.
“Sit.”
Vincenzo looked at Alejandro.
“You trust him now?”
Alejandro did not answer.
“His own credentials moved money two days ago.”
“You know that because?”
Silence.
Tomas’s face hardened.
“That transfer was discovered after you arrived.”
Vincenzo realized what he had done.
Elena whispered, “You knew.”
He reached inside his jacket.
Three weapons came up around the room.
Vincenzo slowly removed his hand.
A phone.
“Relax.”
Then every alarm in the mansion began screaming.
Fire.
West wing.
Security monitors flashed.
Smoke filled the corridor outside the archive room.
Tomas turned toward the screen.
Alejandro looked back at Vincenzo.
The old accountant smiled.
Not warmly.
“Your problem, Alejandro, is that you still think the person in front of you has to be the one holding the match.”
The west wing camera went black.
Then another.
And another.
Alejandro’s private archive was burning.
May you like
The same archive containing every original file related to Luca’s death.
