Chapter 3 – THE KEY TO THE WEEPING ANGEL

The brass key sat in my palm, dull and heavy.

Vanessa’s eyes widened in sheer panic.

“Where did you get that?” she hissed, stepping toward me.

Luca put his arm out, blocking her path.

“Let her speak.”

“I found it taped to the underside of the sink in Miss Bellini’s bathroom,” I said, my voice shaking but clear. “I was fixing a loose pipe this afternoon. It fell out.”

“She’s stealing from me!” Vanessa yelled to the crowd. “Security! Throw her out!”

Two large men in suits stepped forward from the doors, but Luca raised a single hand.

They stopped instantly.

Luca looked at the key.

He reached out and picked it up from my hand.

He turned it over, examining the intricate engraving on the bow of the key.

It was shaped like a weeping angel.

“This isn’t a house key,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “This is a safe deposit box key. From the First National Bank downtown.”

He looked at Vanessa.

“The same bank where my father kept the Rossi family’s surrender contract.”

Vanessa swallowed hard. “Luca, I swear on my life, I don’t know what that key is. She planted it to frame me!”

Michael leaned heavily against the table, his face pale.

“Luca,” Michael breathed. “The pills. If Vanessa was poisoning me, why would she leave the bottle under her own chair?”

The question hung in the air.

It was a good point. It was sloppy. Too sloppy for a woman as calculating as Vanessa.

Unless she wanted it to be found.

Or unless someone else put it there.

“Because she didn’t drop it,” I realized aloud.

Everyone looked at me.

“When I found the broken bottle this morning, the floor was sticky. Like syrup. But Miss Bellini drinks her tea plain.”

I looked at the head table.

“Mr. Michael drinks his tea with honey.”

Michael stared at me. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying the bottle fell from your coat, Mr. Michael. Not hers.”

The reversal hit Luca like a physical blow.

He turned to his brother.

Michael’s expression didn’t change to shock.

It changed to profound, devastating guilt.

“Michael?” Luca asked, his voice cracking for the first time.

Michael looked down at Bruno, who was still leaning against his leg. The old dog whimpered softly.

“I’m sorry, Luca,” Michael whispered.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, folded train ticket.

He placed it on the table.

It was a one-way ticket to Montreal. Dated for tonight.

“I wasn’t being poisoned,” Michael confessed, tears filling his eyes. “I was making myself sick. Taking small doses of a heavy sedative so you would think I couldn’t handle the downtown project. So you would take it over.”

Vanessa gasped, covering her mouth.

“Why?” Luca demanded, stepping toward his brother. “Why would you do that?”

“Because they told me if I didn’t hand the project over to you, they would kill you,” Michael cried.

“Who?” Luca roared.

Before Michael could answer, the heavy ballroom doors slammed open.

Three men in dark overcoats walked in.

At the center was an older man with silver hair and a walking cane.

He wore a heavy gold ring with the Rossi family crest.

“Hello, Luca,” the man smiled. “It’s been a long time.”

Then, he looked directly at me.

“Hello, Emily. I see you’ve found my key.”

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