Chapter 3 - What Bernardet Tried to Tell Him
The Santoro Mercantile fire happened in 1994.
Marin learned that at 2:13 in the morning.
Officially, it had been electrical.
One warehouse worker died.
Another disappeared.
No charges.
No major investigation.
The article was short.
Too short.
The dead employee was named Thomas Hollis.
Her father.
Marin read the name three times.
Her father had died in a car accident.
That was what her mother had always told her.
A highway outside Milwaukee.
Black ice.
Instant death.
Marin had been four.
She remembered nothing.
She called Evelyn.
No answer.
She called again.
Voicemail.
At sunrise, Marin drove to the nursing facility.
Her mother was sitting near the window when Marin entered.
One look at Marin’s face and Evelyn knew.
“You found it.”
“My father died in a warehouse fire?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Mom.”
No answer.
“You lied to me for twenty-three years.”
“I protected you.”
“With a fake car accident?”
“You were a child.”
“I’m not anymore.”
Evelyn looked smaller than Marin had ever seen her.
“Thomas wasn’t supposed to die.”
“That is not an explanation.”
“He found something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know all of it.”
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Giving me half a sentence and calling it protection.”
Evelyn looked away.
“Your father worked nights at Santoro Mercantile. Maintenance mostly. Locks. Boilers. Loading equipment.”
Marin sat.
“He found records hidden in basement seventeen.”
“What records?”
“Payments. Fake companies. Money being moved.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled.
“I knew one name.”
Marin leaned forward.
“What name?”
Evelyn whispered:
“Whitlock.”
Marin felt cold.
Celeste.
“No.”
“I don’t know if it was her family. She would have been young.”
“Her father?”
“Maybe.”
“Why did you have the brass tag?”
“Thomas gave it to me the night before the fire.”
“Why?”
“He said if anything happened, I should give it to someone named Salvatore.”
Rafael’s father.
Marin knew the name from company history.
“Did you?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“He was arrested two days later on another matter. Then the warehouse was sold. People started asking questions. Someone followed me home.”
Evelyn’s mouth trembled.
“I had a four-year-old daughter.”
“So you ran.”
“I survived.”
Marin stood.
“And lied.”
“Yes.”
The honesty hurt worse.
Back at Santoro’s, Rafael was having a different conversation.
Bernardet closed his office door.
“I should have told you years ago.”
Rafael stared at her.
“Start with last month.”
She shook her head.
“It doesn’t start last month.”
“Then start wherever it starts.”
Bernardet sat.
“Gregory Vale has been shaving money from the pooled service distribution.”
Rafael’s face did not change.
“How long?”
“At least eighteen months.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“You said years.”
Bernardet looked at him.
“Celeste began involving herself with the restaurant accounts almost three years ago.”
Rafael’s jaw hardened.
“She organizes charity events.”
“She also asks questions about staff compensation.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You always know.”
“Not this time.”
Bernardet took out a folded sheet.
Names.
Dates.
Missing hours.
Rafael read.
Marin.
Lacey.
Sonia.
Five others.
All women.
All with no family connections.
No money.
No lawyers.
Easy targets.
His hand became still.
“When did you first tell Vale you noticed?”
“Six months ago.”
“And?”
“He told me the software was wrong.”
“You believed him?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“I tried.”
Yesterday.
Elevator.
Phone call.
Rafael remembered.
Bernardet continued.
“Then two months ago, I found Celeste in the staff office after midnight.”
Rafael looked up.
“She said she was looking for seating charts.”
“She lied.”
“Yes.”
“What was she looking for?”
“I don’t know.”
Rafael stood.
“Where is Vale?”
Bernardet hesitated.
“He didn’t come in.”
Rafael called security.
No answer from Vale’s apartment.
No answer from his phone.
His company access card had last been used at 3:07 a.m.
Basement parking.
Rafael’s attention sharpened.
“Pull cameras.”
The footage showed Vale entering the garage.
Then nothing.
Sixteen minutes missing.
Deleted.
“Who can delete security footage?”
“Security director,” said the technician. “You. Mr. Ferraro. And Ms. Whitlock has temporary event access.”
Rafael went silent.
Abel, standing behind him, muttered, “Well.”
Rafael looked at him.
“Say it.”
“I don’t like saying it.”
“Say it.”
“You’re marrying her in six weeks.”
Rafael stared at the black screen.
“Not relevant.”
Abel snorted.
“Son, if your future wife has administrative access to your cameras and one of your managers disappears after stealing from staff, I’d call it pretty damn relevant.”
At six, Marin arrived.
Rafael intercepted her near the service corridor.
“Ms. Hollis.”
She stopped.
Her face was pale.
“We need to talk.”
“I’m working.”
“Not tonight.”
Her eyes flashed.
“I need the shift.”
“You’ll be paid.”
“For doing nothing?”
“For answering questions.”
“I don’t want charity.”
“Neither do I.”
That made her pause.
Rafael opened his office door.
Inside, Marin refused the chair.
He noticed.
“You know Gregory Vale is missing.”
“I know he’s not here.”
“Your car was entered last night.”
Her expression changed.
“How do you know?”
“Camera gap.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No. It’s what I have.”
Marin studied him.
Then she pulled the photograph from her bag.
Placed it on his desk.
Rafael looked down.
The warehouse.
His grandfather’s building.
Circle around basement entrance.
His face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“My windshield.”
Abel, standing near the window, crossed the room.
He saw the photograph.
Stopped.
“Jesus.”
Rafael looked at him.
“You know it?”
Abel said nothing.
“Abel.”
“I drove your father there the night it burned.”
Marin’s breath caught.
Rafael turned slowly.
“You never told me that.”
“Your father told me not to.”
“What happened?”
Abel stared at Marin.
“Who are you?”
“Marin Hollis.”
The older man went rigid.
“Hollis?”
“Yes.”
“Thomas Hollis?”
“My father.”
Abel sat down without being asked.
For the first time in Rafael’s life, Abel Ferraro looked old.
“He saved your father,” he whispered.
Marin frowned.
“What?”
Abel looked at Rafael.
“The night of the fire, Salvatore Santoro should have died.”
Rafael’s face hardened.
“What are you talking about?”
Abel pointed at Marin.
“Her father pulled him out.”
Silence.
Marin whispered, “My father died there.”
Abel nodded.
“He went back inside.”
“For what?”
Abel’s eyes shifted toward the photograph.
“For the ledger.”
Rafael understood first.
“What ledger?”
“The one your father spent the rest of his life trying to find.”
Marin’s phone rang.
Her mother.
She answered immediately.
“Mom?”
Only breathing.
Then Evelyn whispered:
“Marin, someone is here.”
Marin stood.
“What do you mean?”
A door slammed through the phone.
Evelyn gasped.
Then a man’s voice came over the line.
Calm.
Familiar.
Gregory Vale.
“Tell Rafael Santoro to stop looking.”
May you like
The call ended.
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