Chapter 9 - WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO THOMAS BENNETT
The medical record said liver failure.
That part was true.
Thomas Bennett was dying.
Weeks, maybe months.
But Victor claimed someone gave him something during his final hospitalization.
Not poison in the theatrical sense.
An unauthorized sedative combined with his condition.
Enough to suppress breathing.
Enough that a dying alcoholic’s death would attract little attention.
I felt sick.
“Who?”
Victor would not say over the phone.
“Meet me.”
Dominic refused.
I asked where.
Dominic glared.
I ignored him.
Victor chose a hospital chapel.
Public.
Cameras.
Security.
Smart.
He looked terrible when he arrived.
Thirty-five.
Thinner than Dominic.
Same eyes.
Different posture.
A man who had spent years looking over his shoulder.
He hugged Dominic.
Dominic did not hug back immediately.
Then did.
Brothers.
Complicated.
Victor looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Everything your father got pulled into.”
“Who killed him?”
Victor sat.
“Moretti ordered it.”
No surprise.
“Who administered the medication?”
“A nurse he paid.”
That hurt differently.
Ordinary corruption entering a hospital room.
“Why?”
“Thomas had copied the final ownership schedule.”
“The partner list?”
Victor nodded.
“My name was there.”
“You funded Moretti.”
“Yes.”
“Voluntarily?”
“At first.”
Honest.
“I thought we were investing in legitimate real estate.”
Then Moretti showed him where the money came from.
Blackmail began.
Victor tried leaving.
Moretti threatened Dominic.
Then my father discovered Victor.
“Dad said the name would destroy Dominic.”
Victor looked at his brother.
“Because Dom thought I was clean.”
Dominic closed his eyes.
Victor continued.
“Thomas agreed not to expose me if I helped him get Chloe and Sam out.”
I froze.
“What?”
Victor had been preparing money.
Housing.
Documents.
Everything.
Then Thomas died before they could leave.
Victor panicked and disappeared.
Moretti found the final page before Victor did.
Or believed Thomas had hidden it with Sam.
Hence the kidnapping.
“Where is the page now?” Dominic asked.
Victor looked at me.
“Thomas mailed it.”
“To who?”
“His daughter.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I never got it.”
“You did.”
No.
Then Victor said:
“The blue book.”
I stopped.
My mother’s old cookbook.
The one Dad gave me two weeks before he died.
I had packed it when Dominic’s men moved us.
It sat in our new apartment kitchen.
I called Sam.
“Do not touch the blue cookbook.”
Long silence.
“Why?”
“Sam.”
“Okay.”
Dominic sent Paulie.
Inside the cookbook cover, beneath old tape:
One folded sheet.
Ownership schedule.
Moretti Holdings.
Anthony Moretti:
45%.
Victor Rossi:
15%.
Various shell investors:
20%.
Silent partner:
20%.
Name:
MICHAEL ROSSI.
Dominic’s father.
Dead eighteen years.
Again, a dead man.
But this time the signature was dated twenty-two years earlier.
Before his death.
Dominic stared.
His father had helped create the structure that eventually trapped Victor, exploited my father, and enriched Moretti.
May you like
The corruption had not entered the Rossi family.
It started there.
