Chapter 5 - The Man With the Lion Ring

Marisol pressed her back against the wall. The study door opened, and a broad man in a gray cashmere coat stepped out.

“New help?” he asked pleasantly.

“Housekeeping,” Marisol said.

He smiled without warmth. “A job with real advantages. You get to hear everything.”

A silver lion ring caught the light as he adjusted his cuff.

Marisol went cold.

The man continued down the stairs. Elias appeared behind him. “That was my cousin Dominic. Did he say something to you?”

“No.” It was the first lie she had told Elias in his house. She hated how easily it came.

In her room, she photographed the threatening note and sent both images to a reporter named Nia Brooks. Nia had written the only article questioning Mateo’s toxicology report. It had disappeared from the paper’s website two days later.

Nia replied within minutes: DON'T CALL. MEET AT MY OFFICE TOMORROW. COME ALONE.

That evening Marisol found Giata at the piano. Constance had finally removed its cover. Dust marked the black surface where a vase once sat.

“I remember Lena counting,” Giata said. “One, two, three, bridge. She said the bridge was where you told the truth.”

“Maybe she meant the music.”

“Maybe.” Giata set one finger on a key. The note rang through the room like a glass breaking far away. “I keep seeing a blue eye. Not a person. Just one blue eye.”

Marisol almost mentioned the ring. Then she saw Owen Vale standing outside, watching through the glass.

“Would you like me to play?” she asked instead.

“You said you weren’t a pianist.”

“I know four songs badly. Pick one.”

Giata laughed at that, quieter this time. It was enough.

At midnight Marisol slipped into the kitchen for water. Constance stood by the sink, turning a folded scrap of paper between her fingers.

“I should have told you sooner,” the old woman said. “Your father called this house the night of the crash.”

“What did he say?”

“He said not to let Giata get in the car. He said the brakes had been touched.”

Marisol gripped the counter. “Then why did she go?”

Constance began to cry. “Because the message never reached her.”

“Who stopped it?”

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From the dark pantry came Dominic Sarno’s voice.

“That would be me.”