Chapter 6 - THE PHOTOGRAPH ON THE MANTEL
Carlo Rossi did not deny being inside Norah's apartment.
That was the first surprise.
The second was that he seemed offended anyone had expected him to.
He arrived at the estate that evening leaning heavily on a polished cane.
At seventy-two, Carlo was thinner than Gabriel remembered him, his silver hair combed neatly back, his dark-green wool coat folded over one arm.
A fresh tear marked the lower hem.
Norah stood beside Gabriel in the library.
Carlo looked at her cast.
His expression changed.
“That boy did that?”
Norah did not answer.
Carlo’s jaw tightened.
“I told Miller to retrieve a watch. I did not tell him to put his hands on you.”
Gabriel moved forward.
“So you admit hiring him.”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“Why?”
Carlo looked at Gabriel almost sadly.
“Because you were never supposed to find any of this.”
“You paid an abusive gambler to stalk one of my employees.”
“I paid a desperate man to recover property that could destroy what remains of this family.”
Gabriel’s voice turned cold.
“Don't hide behind family.”
Carlo laughed softly.
“You sound exactly like your father.”
“That is not an insult.”
“It wasn't meant as one.”
Norah stepped forward.
“You searched my home.”
Carlo looked at her.
“Yes.”
“You destroyed things that belonged to my mother.”
His face tightened.
“I was looking for Daniel’s watch.”
“Why?”
Carlo reached into his coat.
Gabriel’s hand instantly moved toward his waist.
Carlo stopped.
“Relax. At my age, reaching for a gun that quickly would dislocate my shoulder.”
He withdrew a small object.
Daniel Hayes’s wristwatch.
Norah sucked in a breath.
Carlo placed it on the table.
“I took nothing else.”
Norah grabbed the watch.
The leather strap was cracked with age.
On the back were the initials D.H.
“You had no right.”
“No.”
Again, no excuse.
Carlo looked at her directly.
“I am sorry.”
Gabriel stared at his uncle.
“You expect that to fix it?”
“No.”
Carlo leaned on his cane.
“At seventy-two, Gabriel, you learn that apologies don't repair anything. They only tell the other person you finally understand you broke it.”
Norah hated that the words sounded sincere.
She hated even more that part of her believed him.
“What is so important about this watch?”
Carlo's face changed.
“Open the back.”
Norah looked at Gabriel.
He nodded.
She used her thumbnail.
The casing opened.
Inside was nothing.
Carlo frowned.
Then frowned harder.
“No.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“What were you expecting?”
“A photograph.”
Norah laughed without humor.
“Apparently everyone in 2003 stored their secrets inside jewelry.”
Carlo almost smiled.
“Your father distrusted banks.”
“What photograph?”
Carlo lowered himself into a chair.
“A picture Daniel took two weeks before the fire.”
“Of what?”
“Me meeting Anthony Moretti.”
Gabriel went rigid.
The Moretti organization had been blamed for Vittorio’s death.
Carlo continued.
“I met Anthony because my oldest son, Paolo, owed him nearly three hundred thousand dollars.”
Gabriel stared.
“You sold information to save Paolo.”
Carlo looked away.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Not innocence.
But not the simple monster Gabriel had built in his mind either.
“I gave Moretti shipping schedules. Construction bids. A few names.”
“How many people died because of those names?”
Carlo’s face tightened.
“Three.”
Silence.
He carried those three people in the way his shoulders bent.
“I told myself I was saving my son.”
Gabriel’s voice was hard.
“You chose him over three other families.”
“Yes.”
No argument.
No justification.
Just shame.
Carlo continued.
“Your father discovered it. Daniel helped him.”
“The warehouse,” Norah said.
Carlo nodded.
“Vittorio called me there to confront me.”
“Did you kill him?”
Carlo looked at Gabriel.
“No.”
Gabriel's eyes did not move.
“Did you start the fire?”
“No.”
“Did you leave him inside?”
Carlo's silence lasted too long.
“Yes.”
Norah felt Gabriel change beside her.
The room became dangerous.
Carlo saw it too.
“I left because Vittorio said he was turning evidence over to federal investigators. I thought the family would collapse. I panicked.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“My father died while you protected yourself.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel Hayes died too.”
Carlo looked at Norah.
“I did not know Daniel was still inside.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
Carlo’s eyes were tired.
“I expect you to decide for yourself.”
Norah looked at Daniel’s watch.
“The photograph.”
Carlo nodded.
“It showed my meeting with Moretti. If the authorities saw it, I would have gone to prison. If our people saw it, I would have been killed.”
“So you've spent twenty-three years looking for it.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel spoke quietly.
“And my mother?”
Carlo looked toward the fireplace.
“Lucia knew about the photograph.”
Mrs. Gable, standing by the door, whispered, “She knew more than that.”
Everyone turned.
Mrs. Gable walked to the fireplace mantel.
There stood no family photographs.
Norah had noticed that on her first day.
Only dark paintings.
Heavy wood.
Nothing personal.
Mrs. Gable reached behind a carved clock.
She pressed something.
A narrow compartment opened in the mantel.
Gabriel stared at her.
“What is that?”
“Your mother’s hiding place.”
Inside was a photograph in a silver frame.
Mrs. Gable handed it to Gabriel.
It showed Lucia Rossi sitting at a kitchen table with Evelyn Hayes.
Between them was Daniel.
And standing behind Daniel was Frank Marchetti.
All four were looking directly at the camera.
Someone had written a date on the bottom.
October 18, 2003.
The day after the warehouse fire.
Norah's knees weakened.
“That’s impossible.”
She pointed at Daniel.
“My father died in the fire.”
Vincent moved closer.
His face went white.
Gabriel looked at Carlo.
Carlo looked genuinely stunned.
For the first time that evening, the old man’s confidence vanished.
“No.”
Vincent whispered, “My father identified Daniel's body.”
Mrs. Gable shook her head.
“No, Vincent.”
He turned toward her.
“I was there when he told the police.”
“He lied.”
Vincent stared at the photograph.
Mrs. Gable's voice became gentle.
“Your father did not identify Daniel Hayes.”
“Then who was the second body?”
Nobody answered.
Norah picked up the photograph.
Her hands trembled.
“My father survived.”
Mrs. Gable closed her eyes.
“For one day.”
The hope died as quickly as it had appeared.
Norah looked at her.
“What happened on October eighteenth?”
Mrs. Gable pointed to the photograph.
“Daniel came here.”
“To the estate?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To tell Lucia who really set the fire.”
Gabriel stepped forward.
“Who?”
Mrs. Gable looked toward Vincent.
Not Carlo.
Vincent.
“Frank Marchetti.”
Vincent recoiled.
“My father?”
Mrs. Gable nodded.
“And Daniel said Frank had not acted alone.”
Vincent’s voice broke.
“Who gave the order?”
Mrs. Gable looked at Gabriel.
“That was the part Lucia refused to tell me.”
Then Carlo spoke from behind them.
His voice sounded older than before.
“I know who.”
Gabriel turned.
Carlo stared at the photograph.
May you like
“I’ve known for twenty-three years.”
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