Chapter 11 - The Stitch in the Hem
The dress had been stored in Rosa’s cedar wardrobe for thirty-one years.
She kept almost nothing else of Maria’s.
Not because she did not care.
Because Franco had ordered Maria’s belongings removed from the mansion after the funeral.
Rosa secretly saved three things.
A music box.
A pair of pearl earrings.
And the blue dress.
Someone ignored jewelry and took only the dress.
Which meant the dress was not clothing.
It was evidence.
Dominic sent Marco to bring Rosa to the mansion.
By morning, Rosa was sitting in Maria’s hidden room while I examined the portrait.
The painted dress was midnight blue.
Maria’s right hand rested against her waist.
Her fingers were positioned strangely.
Two fingers touched the seam.
I leaned closer.
“Did Maria sew?”
Rosa nodded.
“Constantly.”
“Did she alter her own clothes?”
“Yes.”
“Could she hide something inside a hem?”
Rosa’s face changed.
Dominic saw it.
“What?”
“Maria used to hide money in coat linings.”
I looked at the portrait again.
“She was telling you where to look.”
Dominic paced once across the room.
“But the dress is gone.”
“The dress might not matter.”
Everyone looked at me.
I pointed at the portrait.
“The painting does.”
Dominic frowned.
I removed the backing from the frame carefully.
The canvas was old but intact.
Near the lower corner were tiny repair stitches.
Not canvas restoration.
Thread.
Blue thread.
I used tweezers from my restoration kit.
Inside the folded edge of the canvas was a strip of microfilm.
Marco stared.
“You are kidding.”
“No.”
Dominic looked at me.
“How did you see that?”
“The thread is wrong.”
He blinked.
“Wrong?”
“Modern polyester.”
“The painting is older.”
Rosa smiled despite everything.
“I knew I hired the right woman.”
I looked at her.
“You manipulated me.”
“Elegantly.”
“No.”
“Perhaps not elegantly.”
Marco had the microfilm digitized using equipment from Dominic’s office.
The images contained bank transfers.
Account numbers.
Dates.
Names.
Gabriel’s handwriting appeared across several notes.
He had been investigating Vittorio.
Maria had continued after his death.
The final image contained something different.
A list of seven names.
Five were crossed out.
Two remained.
VITTORIO CARUSO.
DANIEL CROWE SR.
Dominic stared at the second name.
Marco looked confused.
“Daniel’s father?”
Dominic nodded.
“He worked for my father.”
Rosa looked sick.
“Then Daniel knows.”
“Maybe.”
Dominic pulled out his phone.
He called Daniel Crowe.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Marco contacted security at Caruso Holdings.
Daniel had not arrived for work.
His home was empty.
His car was gone.
Then Dominic’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Daniel’s voice came through.
Breathing hard.
“Dominic.”
“Where are you?”
“I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“I believed Anthony when he said nobody would get hurt.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“Where are you?”
“They know about the room.”
“Who?”
“Anthony.”
“And Vittorio?”
Daniel went silent.
Then he said,
“Vittorio isn’t running this anymore.”
Dominic looked at Marco.
“Who is?”
Daniel whispered,
“Anthony has been waiting twenty years to take your place.”
A loud sound came through the phone.
May you like
Daniel gasped.
Then the line went dead.
