Chapter 7 - The Name on the Receipt
The receipt was a forgery, but its purpose was clear: somebody wanted me inside the estate. I wondered whether my father's death had been staged, then hated myself for hoping.
Adrian brought in a document examiner, who found the signature copied from a decades-old shipping form. A fingerprint on the original envelope matched Dean Russo.
When investigators approached Dean's apartment, he was gone. Evelyn and her young son had already been moved to a safe location.
I asked Adrian if he had ever wanted to leave the life he had inherited. He stared out at the gray Atlantic.
"Every day since my mother died," he answered. "I kept telling myself I could make it less cruel from the inside. That's what men say when they're afraid to change."
I had expected another excuse. Instead, he told me he was cooperating with authorities to dismantle the illegal side of his operations, even if it cost him his freedom.
"I can't promise you a clean past," he said. "Only that I won't hide it from you."
That night I dreamed of the warehouse fire. I woke shaking, and Adrian came when I called. He sat on the opposite end of the couch until I asked him to move closer.
He did not kiss me. He held my hand and waited until my breathing steadied.
In the morning the document examiner called with another finding. The false receipt had been printed using paper stocked by a single private office.
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It was the office of the Moretti family's longtime attorney, Vincent Hale.
And Vincent was scheduled to deliver the keynote speech at Sunday's gala.
