Chapter 5
“Anything?”
Luca looked down at the photograph.
Margaret nodded.
“She said losing the store would destroy her mother.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
“Oh, Sofia.”
I watched her expression change.
Until that moment, she'd seemed concerned only about the missing groceries.
Now she was worried about someone else.
“Is Sofia ill?” she asked.
Margaret looked surprised.
“You didn't know?”
“Know what?”
“She had a stroke last spring.”
Teresa pressed a hand against her chest.
“Nobody told me.”
Margaret lowered her eyes.
“Vanessa said her mother wanted privacy.”
Luca thanked Margaret.
Before we left, Teresa made her promise to call if she needed anything.
Then we drove to the old neighborhood.
Bellini Family Market stood between a laundromat and a closed shoe-repair shop.
Its green awning was faded.
The front window displayed a handwritten sign.
TEMPORARILY CLOSED.
Through the glass, I could see empty produce baskets.
Luca tried the door.
It was unlocked.
Inside, a man in his early sixties was stacking cardboard boxes.
He looked up sharply.
“We're closed.”
Then he recognized Luca.
“Mr. Moretti?”
“Eli.”
The man's expression softened.
“Good Lord. You look like Antonio.”
Eli Marino had managed the store for almost thirty years.
He remembered Teresa immediately.
“Mrs. Moretti.”
She hurried forward.
“Eli, what happened here?”
He looked around the empty shop.
“More than I know how to explain.”
The refrigerators were silent.
Only one small freezer remained operating.
Shelves that once held canned vegetables and pasta were nearly bare.
Eli brought us into the back room.
A dozen insulated grocery bags hung from hooks.
Each had a name attached.
Margaret Ellis.
Helen Doyle.
Samuel Ortega.
Nine others.
Teresa touched the bags.
“Those are my people.”
Eli nodded.
“They were supposed to be delivered every Thursday.”
“What happened?” Luca asked.
Eli pulled out a chair.
“The van broke down in August. Then the refrigeration system started failing.”
“Why wasn't it repaired?”
“Money.”
Luca stared at him.
“My mother paid forty-eight thousand dollars.”
Eli looked stunned.
“Forty-eight?”
“Yes.”
Eli slowly sat down.
“Vanessa told me she had a little money to restart the delivery program.”
“How much did you receive?”
“Nine thousand six hundred for the first grocery orders.”
Daniel, who had arrived separately, opened his notebook.
“What happened to the remainder?”
Eli shook his head.
“I don't handle Vanessa's personal accounts.”
Teresa looked at the bags.
“But you stopped delivering?”
“After the van broke, yes. We managed a few trips in borrowed vehicles, but Vanessa told me the regular route was suspended.”
“Did the customers refuse their groceries?” Luca asked.
“No.”
“Did Hannah Collins ever contact you?”
Eli looked at me.
“Never met the young lady.”
A weight lifted from my chest.
Finally, somebody outside the mansion could confirm that I had nothing to do with those records.
Then Eli said something that changed the conversation.
“Vanessa was trying to keep the store from being taken.”
Luca frowned.
“Taken by whom?”
“The landlord. We were behind on rent. There were repairs we couldn't afford.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Sofia lives in the apartment upstairs. If the store closes permanently, she may have to leave.”
Teresa looked toward the ceiling.
“Is she upstairs now?”
“At a rehabilitation appointment.”
Eli sighed.
“Vanessa has been paying for things Sofia can't manage herself anymore.”
I thought about Margaret's photograph.
The smiling little girl.
The mother holding her hand.
Suddenly, Vanessa's desperation seemed more understandable.
But twelve elderly people had still been abandoned.
Luca understood that distinction.
“Eli, caring for her mother doesn't give Vanessa permission to spend money meant for yours and the other eleven.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn't you tell Teresa?”
Eli looked at her.
“I thought you knew, Mrs. Moretti. Vanessa said you had approved the change.”
Teresa shook her head.
“I approved grocery deliveries. Nothing else.”
Eli's face fell.
“I'm sorry.”
He stood and retrieved several invoices from a drawer.
“These are the supplies I purchased.”
Daniel examined them.
Actual groceries had been bought.
Some delivered.
Some left in the shop.
Others eventually donated before they spoiled.
It was the first confirmation that at least part of the money had been used as promised.
But not nearly enough.
I looked at the hanging bags.
“Why keep those labels?”
Eli shrugged.
“I thought we'd start again.”
Teresa touched Samuel Ortega's name.
“Antonio used to repair that man's lawn mower.”
She gave a small, shaky laugh.
“He always charged him a quarter.”
Luca looked at his mother.
Then at the empty shelves.
“We'll get these deliveries running again.”
Eli shook his head.
“It's not that simple.”
“Tell me.”
“The distributors won't extend more credit. And Vanessa still owes money for another order.”
“What order?”
Eli reached for a separate invoice.
He frowned at it.
“That's strange.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“What?”
“The supplier originally described it as a bulk grocery shipment.”
“And?”
Eli pointed to the delivery address.
It wasn't the store.
It wasn't Margaret's apartment.
And it wasn't any of the twelve households.
The shipment had been redirected to the Lakeview Grand Hotel.
Luca stared at the invoice.
“That's where Vanessa planned our wedding reception.”
Eli looked away.
“She's holding some kind of charity event there tomorrow.”
Daniel read the event name printed at the bottom.
THE ANTONIO MORETTI COMMUNITY TABLE.
Teresa put a hand over her mouth.
May you like
Nobody had asked her permission to use her husband's name.
And the money she'd saved to feed twelve elderly neighbors was now connected to a celebration at one of Chicago's most expensive hotels.
