Chapter 9: The Letter in the Safe

Thursday morning Sandro left for the docks at eight.

He kissed me at the door in his work boots and a canvas jacket, and said he'd be back for dinner.

"Don't let Bianca talk you into anything with a knife," he said.

"She already has."

I waited until his car cleared the gate.

Then I put on my oldest cardigan and walked down the hall to the study.

The guard at the door was a new one, young, with a haircut that still looked fresh.

"I'm after a book," I said. "Sandro said I could use the desk."

"Yes, ma'am."

He stepped aside.

I typed the six numbers with my hand shaking, and the lock went green.

The study was cold and smelled of leather and old smoke.

I closed the door behind me, and turned the thumb lock.

The painting of the harbor swung out from the wall on a hinge.

Behind it was a gray steel safe, with a dial the size of a saucer.

I tried 11, 02, 62.

The dial clicked, and the handle wouldn't turn.

I tried it again, slower, and the same thing happened.

My palms were sweating.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Mrs. Vannozzi?"

It was the consigliere, a thin man of sixty with silver glasses, who had never once smiled at me.

I swung the painting back, wiped my hands on my cardigan, and opened the door the width of my shoulders.

"I'm fetching a book," I said.

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