Chapter 5 - The Red Dress
Stefano wanted to send men to my house.
I refused.
"If Vincent wants the dress, then the dress matters. I am wearing it. We inspect it now."
We were in the back room of a closed Italian restaurant Stefano owned near Lincoln Park. The kitchen lights were on, but every chair in the dining room sat upside down on a table. Two armed men guarded the front and rear doors.
Stefano crossed his arms. "You're asking me to let three men watch you take apart your clothes."
"Then turn around."
He almost smiled.
I found a sewing kit in the office. My mother had altered the dress years ago, and one section of the inner hem felt thicker than the rest. I cut three careful stitches.
A tiny brass key fell into my palm.
Nobody spoke.
The key had a stamped number: 314.
"Bus station locker?" I asked.
Stefano's face changed.
"Paula's photograph."
The bus station in the picture had been demolished twelve years ago.
"Then what does three-fourteen open?"
One of Stefano's men, Marco, said, "Safe deposit box, maybe. Old post office box. Storage cage."
I examined the lining again and found something else: a narrow strip of paper, folded until it was no wider than a matchstick.
My mother's handwriting.
Nora - if the red dress ever brings danger to your door, go to St. Bridget's. Ask Father Daniel for the box marked R.B. Do not trust anyone who says Paula betrayed us.
My knees weakened.
Father Daniel had baptized me. He had also been dead for five years.
Stefano took one step closer. "R.B. Your mother's initials? Ruth Bennett?"
"Yes."
My phone rang.
Claire.
I answered so quickly I nearly dropped it.
"Claire?"
Her voice was thin and shaking. "I'm sorry."
"Where are you?"
"I didn't know it would become this. I only owed money. I thought they just wanted information."
"Who? Vincent?"
She started crying harder.
"Nora, Mom knew dangerous people. She never told you because you were the good one. You got scholarships and church awards and everyone trusted you. I was the one she told the ugly things to."
"What ugly things?"
A sharp sound cut through the phone.
Claire gasped.
A man's voice said, "Enough."
Then Vincent came on.
"Midnight is still the deadline. But since you've found the key, I'll save you some time. Locker 314 isn't at a station. It's beneath the church."
The line went dead.
I looked at Stefano.
"St. Bridget's has no lockers."
Marco's expression darkened.
"Not upstairs."
"What does that mean?"
He looked at Stefano before answering.
"During Prohibition, the church basement connected to old freight tunnels. Half the city forgot they existed."
Stefano reached for his coat.
May you like
"Vincent didn't."
Then the restaurant's rear alarm began to scream.
