Chapter 6 - THE BLACK ROSARY
Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the silence of the dining room.
I stared at the black wooden rosary dangling from Carlo Bellini’s fingers.
“That belongs to my grandmother,” I whispered, taking a step forward.
Carlo chuckled, his gold ring catching the light.
“It did. Until she pawned it to a loan shark in Naples twenty years ago. I bought it back. A little souvenir.”
The sirens grew louder, echoing off the grand windows of the Moretti mansion.
Luca immediately stepped in front of me, shielding my body with his broad shoulders.
“You’re out of your mind, Carlo,” Luca growled. “Michael didn’t drink the whiskey. Emily stopped him. There’s no crime here.”
Carlo smiled smoothly, leaning on his silver cane.
“Oh, Luca. You always were too emotional to see the bigger picture.”
Carlo snapped his fingers.
Two of his personal security guards walked into the room, pushing a serving cart.
On the cart sat the silver wine bucket I had prepared earlier.
Carlo reached into the bucket and pulled out the empty bottle of Michael’s favorite sparkling apple cider.
“I didn’t poison the whiskey, Luca,” Carlo said softly. “Vanessa handled the whiskey to create the distraction.”
Vanessa looked at her father, her eyes wide with shock. “Dad? What are you talking about?”
Carlo ignored his daughter. He held up the empty cider bottle.
“I poisoned the cider.”
Michael’s wife, Elena, let out a piercing scream.
She dropped to her knees beside her husband.
Michael was gripping the edge of the table, his face flushed, sweat pouring down his forehead. He was struggling to breathe.
“Mike!” Luca yelled, dropping to the floor and grabbing his brother’s face. “Mike, look at me!”
Michael’s eyes were rolling back. His lips were turning a faint shade of blue.
“Emily poured the cider,” Carlo announced loudly to the forty horrified guests. “Emily served it to him. And when the police walk through those doors in two minutes, they will find the remaining traces of the toxin in her apron pockets.”
I froze.
I reached my trembling hands into the deep pockets of my white apron.
My fingers brushed against something hard.
A small glass vial.
I pulled it out. It was empty, smelling faintly of bitter almonds.
“Vanessa bumped into you earlier, didn’t she?” Carlo smiled. “When she spilled the wine. A perfect sleight of hand.”
Vanessa was shaking her head violently. “Dad, no! You said we were just going to frame him for a relapse! You didn’t say anything about killing him!”
“A relapse gets him out of the company for a year,” Carlo said coldly. “A funeral gets him out permanently.”
Luca looked up from his dying brother. The absolute murder in his eyes made Carlo’s guards reach for their holstered weapons.
“If my brother dies,” Luca promised, his voice vibrating with lethal intent, “I will tear you apart with my bare hands.”
“He won’t die if he gets the antidote,” Carlo said, reaching into his vest pocket. He pulled out a small syringe filled with clear liquid.
“Give it to him,” Luca demanded, holding out his hand.
“Of course,” Carlo said. “As soon as you sign the transfer of the Moretti estate and company holdings to my name.”
Carlo tossed a folded legal document onto the table.
“Sign it, Luca. Or watch your brother suffocate.”
The blue lights from the police cruisers began flashing through the dining room windows.
Loud banging echoed from the front doors.
“Police! Open up!”
“You have thirty seconds,” Carlo smiled.
Luca looked at his brother, gasping for air on the floor.
He didn’t hesitate.
Luca grabbed a pen from his breast pocket and slammed his hand onto the table, ready to sign away everything his father had built.
“No, Mr. Moretti. Wait.”
I didn’t know where the courage came from, but I stepped in front of Luca.
I looked down at the empty vial in my hand. Then I looked at the serving cart.
“He didn’t drink the cider,” I said.
Carlo’s smile vanished. “What did you say, you stupid girl?”
I pointed to the crystal glasses still sitting on the tray Vanessa had knocked over earlier.
“When Mrs. Bellini ordered me to serve the whiskey, I refused,” I said clearly. “She grabbed the tray. She spilled the wine.”
I looked at Michael, who was still clutching his chest.
“But before that,” I continued, “Michael never drank the cider. He was waiting for the toast.”
Luca stopped writing. He looked at me, then at Michael.
“Mike,” Luca asked urgently. “Did you take a sip?”
Michael shook his head weakly, still gasping, but the blue tint was leaving his lips.
“Panic attack,” Elena cried out, checking his pulse. “He’s having a panic attack, Luca! He’s not poisoned!”
Carlo’s face turned bright red.
“That’s impossible!” Carlo shouted. “I saw him drink from the glass!”
“No, you didn’t,” a voice said from the back of the room.
Giovanni stepped out of the shadows.
In his hand, he held a crystal glass filled with bubbling apple cider.
“You saw me drink from his glass, Carlo,” Giovanni said smoothly.
May you like
And then, Giovanni raised the glass to his lips.
And drank the rest of it.
