Chapter 3 - The Moretti House
Clara accepted the three-week job because rent was due Monday.
She told herself that was the reason.
By Tuesday morning she was standing inside the Moretti house in Bay Ridge, wondering whether rent was worth marble floors, silent guards, and doors that seemed heavy enough to survive a war.
Leo met her in the foyer.
He did not hug her.
Rico watched from the stairs.
“He waited there for twenty minutes.”
“You could’ve told him I was coming.”
“I did.”
“Then why wait?”
“She comes.”
The first two hours were ordinary.
Then a silver lighter clicked in the next room.
Clara dropped to the floor in front of him.
“Leo. Look at me.”
“No bird! No bird!”
Behind him came a tall older man in a charcoal suit.
A small gold pin shaped like a falcon on his lapel.
“Uncle Vittorio, get out.”
Vittorio Moretti looked offended.
“He’s frightened of me?”
“Out.”
The older man’s jaw tightened.
Leo buried his face against Clara’s shoulder.
She did not touch him until he reached first.
“What did he say?”
“Bird.”
Vittorio’s nickname in the family had been Falco.
She called him “the bird man” once when Leo was learning animal names.
Clara asked:
“Was Vittorio there the night your wife died?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“The attack happened in Queens. My uncle was at a board dinner in Manhattan.”
“With witnesses?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Your son just screamed because he saw a pin.”
Rico looked toward the hallway.
“Pull Vittorio’s timeline.”
Vittorio’s voice came from the foyer.
“You’re investigating me because a toddler is scared of a bird?”
“I told you to leave.”
Vittorio smiled without warmth.
“You’ve become soft.”
Then Vittorio looked directly at the boy.
“Little prince.”
“That phrase.”
“What?”
“He reacted before your uncle moved.”
Rico’s face went still.
May you like
Clara whispered:
“Leo has heard him say that before.”
