Chapter 4 - THE WATCH THAT STOPPED AT 10:18
~1,100 words
“The last place Vittorio claimed he never saw my brother.”
Adrian said the words again as if hearing the lie for the first time.
Isabella sat very still.
“My father mentioned Lake Street once.”
We all looked at her.
She immediately regretted speaking.
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Isabella.”
She opened her evening bag again.
This time she removed a silver pocket watch.
Old.
Heavy.
The crystal was scratched, and one corner of the case was dented.
“My father’s.”
I stared at it.
“You had that in your bag too?”
“I carry it when I’m nervous.”
She gave a humorless smile.
“Tonight apparently qualified.”
Adrian held out his hand.
Isabella hesitated.
Then gave it to him.
The watch had stopped.
10:18.
“It hasn’t worked since the night Nicholas disappeared,” she said.
Adrian looked at her sharply.
“How do you know?”
“Because my father told me.”
“When?”
“The week before he died.”
That made everyone quiet.
“He was sick,” Isabella continued. “Morphine made him confused sometimes. He held the watch and said, ‘Ten eighteen. That’s when I should have stopped him.’”
“Stopped Nicholas?”
“I thought so.”
Her voice broke.
“For two years, I’ve wondered if my father killed your brother.”
The confession hung between them.
Adrian stared at her.
“And you were going to marry me without telling me.”
Tears rose into her eyes.
“I was trying to find out before I told you.”
“By breaking into my study.”
“Yes.”
“That’s your defense?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“It’s the truth.”
He turned away.
I understood his anger.
I also understood hers.
Truth becomes terrifying when everybody around it has money, loyalty, and fourteen years of silence.
I held out my hand.
“Can I see the watch?”
Isabella gave it to me.
The back had faint scratches near the hinge.
Repair marks.
I knew them.
“Dad worked on this.”
Adrian looked over.
“You’re sure?”
“My father filed case screws in a particular direction.”
I opened the ledger again.
There.
Thomas Crane.
Pocket watch repair.
Four days after Nicholas disappeared.
Crystal replacement.
Case alignment.
Movement cleaning.
Then Dad’s note:
Impact severe enough to stop movement at 10:18 p.m.
Red industrial paint embedded in case edge.
Owner declined refinishing.
I read it aloud.
Adrian looked toward Marco.
“Does the Lake Street depot have red loading rails?”
Marco nodded.
“Used to.”
Isabella’s face drained.
“So my father was there.”
“Yes,” Adrian said.
“But that doesn’t tell us what happened.”
He called Vittorio.
Not on the phone.
He ordered a car back to the townhouse.
Thirty minutes later, we were all standing in Adrian’s library.
The cufflinks.
Nicholas’s ring band.
Thomas’s watch.
My father’s ledger.
Four objects on a polished table.
Fourteen years of lies surrounding them.
Vittorio looked at the watch.
His shoulders lowered.
“You found Samuel’s records.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“You were at Lake Street.”
Vittorio sighed.
“Yes.”
The answer came too easily.
That made me suspicious.
“So was Thomas?” Isabella asked.
“Yes.”
“And Nicholas?”
Vittorio looked at Adrian.
“Yes.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
Just once.
“What happened?”
“Nicholas was leaving.”
“You told me he had already left Chicago.”
“He intended to.”
“With four million dollars.”
“That’s what your father believed.”
Adrian’s eyes opened.
“What do you believe?”
Vittorio poured himself water.
Nobody offered him wine.
“Nicholas had documents.”
“What documents?”
“Records from the family businesses.”
Marco shifted near the door.
Vittorio continued.
“Payments. Old arrangements. Things your father did not want outside the family.”
Adrian’s face darkened.
“Crimes.”
Vittorio gave him a tired look.
“Don’t become delicate at forty-five.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“Yes.”
The word landed heavily.
“Nicholas planned to give the records to federal investigators.”
Isabella whispered, “Why?”
Vittorio looked at Adrian.
“Because he wanted out.”
“That doesn’t sound like stealing four million dollars.”
“No.”
Adrian went still.
“What?”
Vittorio rubbed his forehead.
“The money was discovered missing afterward.”
“After Nicholas disappeared?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“So nobody actually saw Nicholas take it.”
Vittorio looked annoyed that the waitress had entered the conversation again.
“No.”
Adrian noticed.
“Answer her.”
“No,” Vittorio repeated. “Nobody saw him take it.”
There it was.
A story Adrian had believed for fourteen years had just lost its foundation.
“Did you fight with Nicholas?” he asked.
Vittorio looked at Thomas’s damaged watch.
“Yes.”
Isabella inhaled.
“What did my father do?”
“Thomas tried to stop us.”
“Stop you from what?”
“Nicholas had the records in a red leather book. I wanted it.”
“You wanted to protect my father.”
“At first.”
That phrase changed the room.
“At first?” Adrian repeated.
Vittorio’s eyes dropped.
“Your brother accused me of taking money too.”
Adrian stared at him.
“The missing four million.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Vittorio’s jaw tightened.
He looked suddenly old.
Not weak.
Old.
“I spent my life cleaning up after your father.”
“I asked about Nicholas.”
“Nicholas swung first.”
Adrian’s hands curled.
“Did you kill him?”
Isabella stopped breathing.
Vittorio looked directly at his nephew.
“No.”
“Did Thomas?”
“No.”
That answer surprised everyone.
Vittorio pointed toward the watch.
“Nicholas shoved me into the loading rail. Thomas stepped between us. I swung at Nicholas.”
He paused.
“He moved.”
Adrian’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“And?”
“Thomas took the blow.”
Isabella stared at her father’s dented watch.
“That’s what broke it.”
“Yes.”
“So 10:18 wasn’t when Nicholas died.”
“No.”
She looked close to collapsing.
Vittorio continued.
“Nicholas was alive when Thomas and I left Lake Street.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I saw him walk toward the west loading exit.”
“Alone?”
Vittorio nodded.
“He still had the red book.”
Adrian stared at him.
Then I noticed something.
The cufflink.
The crest had come from Nicholas’s ring three days later.
If Nicholas walked away with the ring, then someone saw him again after Lake Street.
I picked up the inner band.
“Mr. Vittorio.”
He looked at me.
“If Nicholas left you with his ring still on his hand, how did Thomas get it?”
Silence.
Vittorio’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
But I knew that look now.
The same one Isabella had worn downstairs.
Caught.
Adrian turned toward him.
“Answer her.”
Vittorio’s voice dropped.
“I never said Nicholas was wearing it when he left.”
Adrian stared.
“What does that mean?”
Vittorio looked toward the floor.
Then finally said,
“He took the ring off before the fight.”
“Why?”
Vittorio swallowed.
“He handed it to Thomas.”
Isabella whispered, “Why would he do that?”
Vittorio looked at Adrian.
May you like
“Because Nicholas believed one of us might not leave that depot alive.”
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