Chapter 15 - One Last Dinner at Laurent
Mateo didn’t hide the photograph.
That was progress.
He showed Josephine before calling anyone else.
She examined it.
“Do you recognize the handwriting?”
“No.”
“Threat?”
“Possibly.”
“Warning?”
“Possibly.”
“You’re extremely helpful.”
“I’m trying not to speculate.”
Josephine turned the photograph over.
The red circle around Mateo looked fresh.
But the photograph itself was old.
She studied the background.
Laurent.
Before renovation.
Same chandeliers.
Same marble.
Same distinctive gold molding.
“This was taken at Laurent.”
Mateo looked.
“You’re right.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why does everything lead back there?”
They searched old property records.
Laurent had once been partially owned by Vittorio Bianchi.
A silent partner held the remainder.
Charles Miller.
Josephine stared.
“My anniversary restaurant belonged to your father and Nathaniel’s father?”
“Yes.”
“Did Nathaniel know?”
“Probably.”
“That’s why he proposed there.”
Mateo’s expression hardened.
“Maybe.”
Josephine called Richard Hale.
He confirmed it.
Laurent had been their first legitimate investment together.
Before betrayals.
Before federal investigations.
Before Elena.
Before Domenico turned resentment into war.
“Who was the silent third investor?” Josephine asked.
Richard hesitated.
“There was one more.”
Mateo leaned closer to the phone.
“Who?”
“Alderman Thomas Greer.”
Josephine recognized the name.
Retired politician.
Publicly admired reformer.
Mateo did too.
“He’s still alive.”
“Yes.”
Richard’s voice became tense.
“And if someone sent that photograph, you need to speak to him.”
Greer lived in a retirement community outside Chicago.
Eighty-two.
Sharp mind.
Shaking hands.
He looked at Mateo and sighed.
“I wondered when the children would arrive.”
Josephine raised an eyebrow.
“We’re in our thirties.”
“To me, children.”
He invited them inside.
Greer listened while Mateo described the photograph.
Then laughed sadly.
“Domenico always thought he was the smartest man in every room.”
“He wasn’t alone,” Mateo said.
“No.”
“Who helped him?”
Greer looked at Josephine.
“Your husband knows.”
“Nathaniel is in federal prison.”
“Then visit him.”
Mateo’s jaw tightened.
“I’m asking you.”
Greer stared at him.
“The man who helped Domenico is still powerful.”
“So?”
“So unlike your uncle, he never wanted money.”
“What did he want?”
“Protection.”
“From what?”
“Exposure.”
Josephine leaned forward.
“What did Charles Miller discover?”
Greer sighed.
“A federal agent was selling information.”
Mateo went still.
“The leak.”
“Yes.”
“Name.”
Greer shook his head.
“I never knew for certain.”
“Then why contact us?”
“I didn’t.”
Josephine frowned.
“You didn’t send the photograph?”
“No.”
They looked at each other.
Someone else knew.
Nathaniel.
Josephine visited him two days later.
The prison meeting room felt less emotionally charged now.
Nathaniel looked healthier.
Calmer.
“Congratulations.”
Josephine frowned.
“How do you know?”
“News travels.”
She looked at the ring.
“You’re okay with it?”
Nathaniel laughed softly.
“My opinion finally doesn’t matter.”
Progress, perhaps.
She slid the photograph through the opening.
“Did you send this?”
Nathaniel’s expression changed.
“No.”
“Who helped Domenico?”
“I thought we covered this.”
“You knew there was someone else.”
He stared at the photo.
“Domenico called him ‘Judge.’”
“A judge?”
“Maybe a nickname.”
“What did he do?”
“Protected the old network. Warned Domenico about investigations. Helped change records.”
“Dental records?”
Nathaniel nodded.
Josephine’s blood chilled.
“Samuel Voss wasn’t acting alone.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you tell prosecutors?”
“I did.”
“They couldn’t identify him.”
“Domenico never used a real name.”
Nathaniel leaned forward.
“But I saw him once.”
“Where?”
“At Laurent.”
Josephine went still.
“When?”
“The night before my staged death.”
“Describe him.”
Nathaniel smiled bitterly.
“You already know him.”
“Who?”
“The restaurant owner.”
Laurent’s current owner was Michael Laurent.
Sixty-five.
Elegant.
Publicly philanthropic.
He had personally greeted Josephine and Nathaniel every anniversary.
She remembered the night of the proposal.
Michael brought champagne.
The funeral reception.
Michael sent flowers.
Her first anniversary alone.
Michael reserved Nathaniel’s favorite table.
Josephine felt sick.
“He knew?”
Nathaniel nodded.
“All of it.”
Mateo closed Laurent that evening.
Officially for maintenance.
Unofficially because every record was being seized by investigators.
Michael Laurent disappeared before authorities arrived.
Again, someone vanished.
But this time Josephine knew where he would go.
She studied old blueprints.
Laurent had been renovated three times.
One basement room appeared in the original plans and disappeared later.
A private wine cellar.
Connected to an alley tunnel.
Police searched.
Empty.
But on the wall they found photographs.
Vittorio.
Charles.
Elena.
Domenico.
Nathaniel.
Josephine.
Mateo.
Years of surveillance.
Michael Laurent had watched the entire story unfold from the restaurant at its center.
Then Josephine noticed one photograph different from the others.
Recent.
Her and Mateo standing inside Harbor House.
On the back:
FINISH WHERE IT BEGAN.
Mateo wanted Laurent surrounded.
Josephine suggested something else.
“Invite him.”
“What?”
“One last dinner.”
“No.”
“It’s the place he thinks he controls.”
“Exactly why we don’t go.”
“It’s also the place Nathaniel controlled.”
She looked at the empty anniversary chair in the photograph.
“And I’m tired of letting men decide what that room means.”
Mateo studied her.
“What are you proposing?”
Josephine smiled slowly.
“We reopen Laurent for one night.”
“To catch Michael.”
“No.”
She picked up the photograph.
“To end the story in the only place he thinks belongs to him.”
Three nights later, the chandeliers at Laurent glowed again.
Only one table was set.
Two chairs.
Josephine entered first.
Mateo walked beside her.
May you like
And somewhere inside the supposedly empty restaurant, a door quietly opened.
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