Chapter 12 - The Uncle Who Smiled at Funerals
Vittorio Conti looked like somebody's favorite grandfather.
That was the first thing I noticed.
He had silver hair, warm brown eyes, and a smile that probably convinced strangers to help him carry groceries.
He wore a navy suit without a tie.
His watch looked old.
His voice was gentle.
And according to the woman found tied to a chair in Revere, he'd ordered my death.
I disliked him immediately.
We met him at Matteo's waterfront residence that afternoon.
I was wearing borrowed jeans, a black sweater, and a fresh bandage.
Rosa DeLuca had insisted on feeding me before anyone discussed murder.
She'd made chicken soup.
Actual homemade chicken soup.
I was beginning to believe she might be the most powerful person in the building.
Vittorio entered through the main doors with two men.
His smile widened when he saw Matteo.
"Nephew."
"Uncle."
They embraced briefly.
Matteo's expression gave nothing away.
Then Vittorio noticed me.
His smile softened.
"And this must be Clara."
I didn't offer my hand.
"Apparently I'm famous."
He chuckled.
"I've heard you've had an exciting birthday."
"That's one word for it."
Matteo stood beside me.
"Clara was injured this morning."
Vittorio's eyes moved to my bandage.
"My goodness."
He looked genuinely distressed.
"How terrible."
I stared at him.
"Someone keeps trying to kill me."
His smile faltered.
"Yes. I understand."
"Do you?"
Matteo glanced at me.
I kept going.
"Because people keep telling me they understand, and yet I continue getting shot at."
Vittorio looked at Matteo.
"She's spirited."
I folded my arms.
"That's usually what people say before calling me difficult."
He laughed.
A warm, practiced laugh.
"Your mother was much the same."
Everything inside me stopped.
"You knew my mother?"
Vittorio hesitated.
Then smiled.
"Of course."
I looked at Matteo.
He watched his uncle carefully.
"How well?" I asked.
"She worked for our family many years ago."
"At Hawthorne?"
Vittorio's expression changed for half a second.
Then he nodded.
"Yes."
"Did you know my father?"
"Daniel?"
I felt a chill.
He said the name too easily.
"Yes."
"Very well."
I stared.
"What kind of man was he?"
Vittorio sighed.
"Complicated."
"That seems to describe everyone I've met lately."
He smiled sadly.
"Daniel was brilliant. Ambitious. Sometimes too ambitious."
"Was he honest?"
Vittorio's eyes flickered.
"Honesty is a difficult word in our world."
I stepped closer.
"Not really."
Matteo shifted beside me.
I ignored him.
"Either you tell the truth or you don't."
Vittorio studied me.
Then his smile returned.
"Your mother raised you well."
I felt sick.
He knew exactly how to make a threat sound like a compliment.
Matteo gestured toward the study.
"Uncle, we need to talk."
Vittorio nodded.
"Of course."
Before leaving, he looked at me again.
"I hope your mother comes home soon."
I stared.
"So do I."
His smile didn't reach his eyes.
The study doors closed.
I stood alone in the living room.
For approximately thirty seconds.
Then Rosa appeared beside me.
"Don't trust him."
I looked at her.
"That obvious?"
She glanced toward the study.
"Vittorio used to smile at funerals."
I frowned.
"What?"
"Not because he was happy."
She lowered her voice.
"Because he enjoyed watching people realize who had survived."
A chill slid down my spine.
"Why does Matteo trust him?"
Rosa looked sad.
"Because after his father died, Vittorio helped him hold the family together."
"Maybe that's exactly what Vittorio wanted."
Rosa said nothing.
I stared at the closed doors.
Then I remembered something.
"The music box."
Rosa looked up sharply.
"What about it?"
"Matteo said his father had one like mine."
Her expression changed.
"Did he?"
"You know something."
She looked away.
"Rosa."
She took a slow breath.
"There weren't two music boxes."
I stared.
"What?"
"Only one."
My heart pounded.
"But Matteo said his father had one."
"He did."
"And my mother gave me one."
Rosa nodded.
"The same one."
I felt cold.
"How?"
She led me into the kitchen.
Then closed the door.
"After the fire, Eleanor came here once."
I held my breath.
"To see Matteo?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She wanted to make sure he survived."
Rosa lowered her voice.
"She was carrying a little wooden box."
"The music box."
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"Matteo's father tried to take it from her."
My stomach twisted.
"Did he?"
"No."
Rosa smiled faintly.
"Your mother hit him with a brass candleholder."
I stared.
Then, despite everything, I laughed.
"That sounds like Mom."
"She was frightened. Pregnant. Exhausted."
Rosa's expression softened.
"But she told him he'd have to kill her before she surrendered it."
I swallowed.
"What was inside?"
"I never knew."
"Did Vittorio?"
Rosa hesitated.
Then nodded.
"He was there."
The kitchen seemed suddenly colder.
"Did he try to stop her?"
"No."
"What did he do?"
Rosa looked toward the study.
"He laughed."
I felt sick.
"He laughed?"
"He told her she could keep the box because she didn't understand what she was protecting."
I gripped the counter.
"Then why would they want it now?"
Rosa's face tightened.
"Because something changed."
Before I could ask what, the study doors opened.
Matteo emerged first.
Vittorio followed.
Both men were smiling.
And neither smile looked real.
"Clara," Matteo said, "we have a problem."
I folded my arms.
"Only one?"
Vittorio chuckled.
Matteo didn't.
"Captain Sloane has issued an alert for you."
My stomach dropped.
"What kind?"
"You're wanted for questioning in Victor Hale's murder."
I stared.
"Again?"
Vittorio stepped forward.
"There's a simple solution."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"Come with me."
The room went silent.
Matteo's expression darkened.
"Uncle."
Vittorio raised one hand.
"Hear me out."
He looked at me kindly.
"I know people in the district attorney's office. I can arrange a private meeting."
I stared at him.
"Without Matteo?"
"Preferably."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
Vittorio continued.
"The police believe you're under his influence."
I almost laughed.
"That's insulting."
He smiled.
"It would be better if you came voluntarily."
I looked at Matteo.
Then back at Vittorio.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why do you want me alone?"
His smile faltered.
Just a fraction.
Then returned.
"Because it would simplify matters."
I nodded thoughtfully.
"Interesting."
"How so?"
"Everybody who wants me alone keeps turning out to be a psychopath."
Rosa coughed behind me.
Matteo looked down.
I suspected he was hiding a smile.
Vittorio's expression hardened.
Then he laughed.
"She's delightful."
He turned toward Matteo.
"Think about my offer."
"I will."
Vittorio kissed Rosa's cheek.
Nodded to Leo.
Then left.
Only after the doors closed did Matteo speak.
"You're right."
I looked up.
"About what?"
"My uncle."
He turned toward Leo.
"He's lying."
Leo nodded.
"I saw."
I folded my arms.
"Wonderful. Now what?"
Matteo removed his phone.
"Now we find out why."
But before he could make the call, another phone rang.
Not his.
Mine.
Unknown number.
I answered carefully.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice whispered.
"Clara Bennett?"
"Yes?"
"My name is Rosa Morales."
My heart jumped.
"Jimmy's sister?"
"Yes."
"Are you okay?"
"Listen to me."
Her voice trembled.
"The man they kept mentioning wasn't Vittorio."
I froze.
"What?"
"They called him the professor."
I looked at Matteo.
"The professor?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"And they said he used to work for the FBI."
My stomach tightened.
"Do you know his name?"
She started crying.
"Clara, I heard them say your mother recognized him."
My breath caught.
"Who?"
Rosa whispered the answer.
"Daniel Bennett."
Then the line disconnected.
I looked at Matteo.
The room tilted.
Because now I understood something horrible.
Vittorio might be involved.
Captain Sloane might be involved.
Jimmy might have helped.
May you like
But the man holding my mother could be my father.
And he might have been controlling the entire operation.
