Chapter 3 - MY BROTHER'S CALL
Luca did not look surprised when I showed him the call log.
That bothered me.
"I called Luis about cigars."
"You called a kitchen porter about cigars?"
"He buys Cuban boxes through a cousin."
Torres asked, "Where is he now?"
Luca shrugged.
"If I knew, I would tell you."
"My son almost died."
His face finally changed.
"I know."
"Then stop acting bored."
"I'm trying not to give you another person to blame."
I nearly hit him.
Instead, I stood.
"Did you go into my study?"
"No."
"Do you have a key?"
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
He reached into his pocket.
Empty.
Luca checked the other pocket.
Then his jacket.
His calm disappeared.
"It's gone."
Torres said, "When did you last see it?"
"This morning."
Of course.
A missing key.
A missing porter.
A deleted camera.
It was starting to look like a story designed for idiots.
"I found this in the cold room."
Inside was a silver container no bigger than a matchbox.
My breath caught.
The top was engraved with two initials.
E.M.
Elena Moretti.
My late wife.
I took one step back.
Seven years earlier, after Elena died in a car accident, I packed her personal things myself.
The silver case had been in her travel bag.
"Where was it?" Torres asked.
"Under the lowest rack."
"Who has access to Elena's storage room?"
"You."
"And?"
"Your brother."
"Don't."
"You lost your study key, you called the missing porter, and now my dead wife's property is sitting beside poisoned cake."
"That is exactly why this is too clean."
For once, he had a point.
Torres sent the silver case to the lab.
Then at the black stone ring on his right hand.
Her face changed.
She hid behind her mother.
"Lily?"
Sophia crouched.
May you like
"What, baby?"
Then she said, "The man had that ring."
