Chapter 7 - The Blue Notes
Adrian ordered everyone out of the music room except Meline.
Even Bennett.
Especially Bennett.
He closed the damaged doors.
Meline stood beside the piano holding the photograph.
“You’re shutting people out again.”
“Yes.”
“Bad strategy.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because if Victor had a man inside security, I don’t know who else he bought.”
That stopped her.
“Bennett?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“With my life.”
“Then why send him away?”
“Because I need to tell you something I’ve told nobody.”
Meline waited.
Adrian stared at the broken window.
“The official report says Elena died at 11:47.”
“You said that.”
“It’s wrong.”
Meline frowned.
“She was alive after midnight.”
“What?”
“I changed the report.”
“Why?”
“To protect Eli.”
Meline became still.
Adrian sat.
“The ambulance never came first.”
“What came first?”
“My people.”
The answer reminded Meline exactly who he was.
“I had enemies. Police contacts. Corrupt officers. Honest officers. I didn’t know who had organized the attack.”
“So you didn’t call 911?”
“My driver did. Victor stopped him.”
Meline’s skin prickled.
“Why?”
“He said the shooters could have police connections.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
Adrian’s face tightened.
“Elena was alive for twenty-three minutes after the attack.”
“What did she say?”
“Almost nothing coherent.”
“But something.”
He nodded.
“She kept repeating 11:47.”
Meline stared at the photograph.
“The time she died wasn’t 11:47.”
“No.”
“Then 11:47 means something else.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
Meline walked to the score.
Blue notes.
Numbers.
Shipment identifiers.
“Elena told Eli the blue notes were the key.”
Adrian joined her.
They spread the pages across the piano.
Meline circled every blue marking.
Seventeen total.
Adrian compared them to old shipment records pulled from secure archives.
Three matched accounts.
Four matched container numbers.
One matched a warehouse.
Then Adrian stopped.
“11-47.”
“What?”
“This.”
He pointed to a notation above measure forty-seven.
Blue ink.
Roman numeral XI.
11.
12.
Meline’s pulse raced.
“What’s at warehouse 11-47?”
Adrian looked at her.
“Nothing.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
“It was demolished two years ago.”
“Who owned it?”
“Victor.”
They exchanged a look.
Adrian immediately called Bennett.
“I want every archived document related to Hale Storage Eleven.”
“How far back?”
“Five years.”
“Yes, sir.”
Meline studied the score.
“Your wife was brilliant.”
“She was.”
“You loved her.”
Adrian’s face softened.
“More than I knew how to say.”
Meline looked down.
“Then why mafia?”
Adrian gave her a long look.
“That’s direct.”
“You don’t have to answer.”
“My father built it.”
“Criminal organization?”
“My father called it protection.”
“What did you call it?”
“Family business.”
“And now?”
Adrian stared at the keys.
“A cage.”
That answer surprised her.
“You could leave.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“People depend on me.”
“People always say that when they’re afraid to change.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Are you twenty-four or eighty?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Worse.”
Meline smiled.
Then Adrian said:
“Elena wanted out.”
Her smile disappeared.
“She wanted Eli somewhere normal.”
“What’s normal?”
“A place where his father didn’t have armed guards.”
“Reasonable.”
“She wanted me to sell the legitimate companies, turn everything else over, disappear.”
“Would you have?”
“I told her no.”
Regret entered his voice.
“The night she died, we argued about it.”
Meline understood the guilt.
“You thought the attack was punishment.”
“Yes.”
“For refusing.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why you blamed yourself.”
Adrian nodded.
“For three years.”
Meline carefully touched his hand.
He looked at her fingers.
She almost withdrew.
He turned his palm slightly instead.
A small movement.
Nothing more.
But neither ignored it.
Bennett interrupted ten minutes later.
“We found the warehouse records.”
Adrian released Meline’s hand.
“What?”
Bennett placed documents on the piano.
“The building wasn’t empty when demolished.”
“What was inside?”
“Safe-deposit storage.”
Adrian frowned.
“We never used safe deposits.”
“Victor did.”
Bennett opened a ledger.
“One box remains unclaimed.”
Meline leaned closer.
“Number?”
Bennett looked at the score.
“11-47.”
Nobody spoke.
“Where is the box now?” Adrian asked.
“Transferred when the warehouse closed.”
“To where?”
Bennett hesitated.
“The First Chicago Trust vault.”
Adrian reached for his coat.
Meline stood.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“My mother may have hidden whatever is inside.”
“Exactly.”
“So I’m coming.”
“It may be dangerous.”
“You employ armed men.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It was meant to be.”
Eli appeared at the doorway.
“Can I come?”
Both adults answered simultaneously.
“No.”
Eli rolled his eyes.
The next afternoon, Adrian and Meline entered First Chicago Trust.
The vault manager checked the records.
“Yes, box 11-47 exists.”
“Who can access it?” Adrian asked.
The manager studied the file.
“Two names.”
“Victor Hale?”
“No.”
Meline held her breath.
“Norah Rhodes.”
Meline stared.
“And Elena Vance.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“Elena is deceased.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Can Norah access it?”
“With identification and verification.”
Meline laughed bitterly.
“My mother sometimes thinks it’s 1998.”
The manager looked uncomfortable.
“There may be another option.”
“What?”
“A beneficiary instruction.”
He opened the file.
“The box transfers after Elena Vance’s death.”
“To whom?”
The manager looked at Meline.
“To Meline Rhodes.”
Meline went completely still.
“What?”
Adrian stared at her.
“You never knew?”
“No.”
The manager retrieved the box.
Small.
Black.
Old-fashioned.
Meline’s hands shook as she opened it.
Inside were three objects.
A flash drive.
A sealed letter.
And one handwritten page of sheet music.
The missing ending.
Meline covered her mouth.
Adrian reached for the letter.
Stopped.
It was addressed to Meline.
Not him.
She opened it.
The first sentence made her sit down.
Dear Meline, if you are reading this, your mother kept her promise—and I did not survive long enough to keep mine.
Meline looked at Adrian.
He had gone pale.
She continued reading.
Then her face changed.
“What?” Adrian asked.
Meline could barely speak.
“Elena says my mother wasn’t just her piano teacher.”
“What was she?”
Meline stared at the letter.
“She was helping Elena gather evidence against Victor.”
And then she reached the final paragraph.
Her hands began trembling violently.
Adrian stepped closer.
“Meline?”
She looked up.
“Elena says Victor knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That Norah had copied everything.”
A pause.
“And if Elena died…”
Meline swallowed.
May you like
“…Victor would come for my mother next.”
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