Chapter 4 - The Secret Carmelo Buried for Fifty Years
Carmelo was waiting inside Mateo’s Manhattan townhouse.
His coat was torn.
His cane was gone.
But he was alive.
When Norah entered carrying the wooden box, Carmelo closed his eyes.
“Madonna.”
Mateo shut the door.
“Talk.”
Carmelo looked at his son.
“Not in front of her.”
Norah put the box on the table.
“It belonged to my grandfather.”
Carmelo sighed.
“She stays.”
Mateo folded his arms.
“Salvatore.”
The old man slowly sat.
“Salvatore Vitale.”
Mateo's expression changed.
“Vitale?”
Norah noticed.
“You know the name.”
“Victor Vitale sits on the board of one of our construction companies.”
Carmelo nodded.
“Salvatore was his father.”
Mateo went silent.
Carmelo opened the box.
His fingers trembled slightly as he touched Vincenzo's photograph.
“We were boys together. Me, Vincenzo, Salvatore.”
“What happened?”
“Salvatore sold information to men who wanted control of our village.”
Norah sat opposite him.
“And my grandfather discovered it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he expose him?”
“He tried.”
Carmelo looked at her.
“But people would have died.”
Norah remembered the letter.
“Do not punish his children for his sins.”
Carmelo nodded.
“Your grandfather believed children should not inherit their fathers’ wars.”
Mateo gave a cold laugh.
“Apparently Salvatore's son disagrees.”
Carmelo looked at him sharply.
“You don't know that.”
“Victor controls the company that benefits if you and I turn against each other.”
Silence.
Mateo continued.
“He's been telling you I've weakened the family.”
Carmelo’s face hardened.
“And telling you I'm too old.”
Mateo stared at his father.
They understood simultaneously.
Norah spoke.
“He's been playing both of you.”
Neither man answered.
She opened the notebook.
“What are these numbers?”
Carmelo leaned closer.
“Old accounts.”
Mateo examined them.
“No.”
He turned several pages.
“These aren't just old accounts.”
“What?”
Mateo pointed.
“Some numbers repeat.”
Norah looked.
“So?”
“They're property identifiers.”
Carmelo frowned.
Mateo grabbed his phone.
Within minutes, documents appeared on his tablet.
He compared them.
Then his face went cold.
“Victor has been using dormant family companies.”
Carmelo stood.
“How much?”
“Millions.”
Norah looked between them.
“So the old notebook connects him to current theft?”
Mateo nodded.
“And if he destroys it?”
“We still need copies.”
Norah smiled faintly.
“What?”
“My grandfather didn't trust banks.”
“Yes.”
“He also didn't trust single copies.”
Carmelo stared at her.
Norah reached beneath the box lining.
She pulled.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside were photographs of every notebook page.
Mateo stared.
Norah shrugged.
“He was paranoid.”
Carmelo began laughing again.
“Vincenzo, you stubborn bastard.”
Mateo's phone rang.
He answered.
A man's voice came through the speaker.
“Mateo.”
Mateo’s face changed.
“Victor.”
Norah and Carmelo went silent.
Victor Vitale continued.
“I heard your father had an unpleasant evening.”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing unreasonable.”
“Then you called the wrong family.”
Victor laughed.
“The girl has something that belongs to me.”
Norah looked at Carmelo.
Mateo's voice became ice.
“Nothing she has belongs to you.”
“You don't know what you're protecting.”
“I know enough.”
“Bring the box to Pier Forty-Seven at midnight.”
“No.”
“Then tomorrow every newspaper in New York receives enough information to destroy half your legitimate companies.”
Mateo smiled without humor.
“You mean the companies you've been stealing from?”
Silence.
For the first time, Victor sounded uncertain.
“You opened it.”
Mateo looked at Norah.
“Yes.”
Victor breathed out.
“Then this becomes difficult.”
Norah stepped toward the phone.
“No.”
Mateo looked at her.
She held out her hand.
He hesitated, then gave her the phone.
Norah spoke.
“Mr. Vitale?”
“Who is this?”
“The waitress.”
Victor went quiet.
Norah continued.
“You've spent fifty years being afraid of a dead baker's box.”
Carmelo’s eyebrows rose.
“That's embarrassing.”
Victor’s voice hardened.
“You should be careful.”
“No.”
Norah looked at Mateo.
“You should.”
She ended the call.
Mateo stared at her.
Carmelo grinned.
“I like her.”
Mateo rubbed his forehead.
“Please don't encourage her.”
Norah handed back his phone.
May you like
“You're welcome.”
Then every light in the townhouse went out.
