Mrs. Ricci’s Kitchen
Chapter 12 - Mrs. Ricci’s Kitchen
Mrs. Ricci had worked in the Moretti house longer than Adrian had been alive.
She had corrected his posture at twelve, boxed his ears at fourteen for swearing in front of his mother, and smuggled him coffee at sixteen when his father decided sleep was weakness.
At seventy-eight, she still believed soup solved half of life and stubbornness solved the rest.
Whoever had tied her to the kitchen chair had underestimated both.
When Adrian entered through the pantry passage, she was lecturing one of Dominic’s men about knife storage.
“I am not saying you are stupid,” she told him, wrists bound behind the chair. “I am saying the drawer is labeled for a reason.”
The man looked exhausted.
Adrian shot him in the leg.
Mrs. Ricci sighed.
“Finally.”
Adrian crossed to her, cutting the rope.
“Are you hurt?”
“My pride.”
“Anything else?”
“My schedule.”
He almost smiled despite the blood on the tile.
“How many?”
“Three. Two went toward the wine cellar. One kept asking me where the child was.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
Mrs. Ricci rubbed her wrists.
“That little girl saved you, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I liked her.”
“You knew Maria was Moreno’s daughter.”
Mrs. Ricci looked away.
There it was.
Another truth hiding in an old house.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Adrian asked.
“Because three years ago, I was not certain you were not your brother’s partner.”
The answer struck cleanly.
Adrian absorbed it.
“You let her work here anyway.”
“I let her work where I could watch her. She had a child and no protection.” Mrs. Ricci’s eyes sharpened. “Do not look at me like that, Adrian. You built a house where decent people feared telling you the truth. That is not entirely Dominic’s fault.”
He said nothing.
The old woman stood, wavered once, then slapped his hand away when he tried to steady her.
“I can walk.”
“Of course.”
“I can also tell you where Dominic went.”
Adrian stilled.
“He left?”
“Through the wine cellar after his men grabbed me. He said something about meeting Dr. Voss at Chapel Bank.”
Adrian’s blood cooled.
The bank.
Maria.
Lily.
He turned, already dialing Silas.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
Mrs. Ricci saw his face change.
“What?”
Adrian was already running.
At Chapel Bank, Maria stood inside a marble room that smelled of old money and lemon polish while Silas argued quietly with a manager who wanted three signatures, two forms of identification, and a world in which armed men did not stand too close to doors.
Lily sat on a leather bench swinging her feet, rabbit in lap, studying the ceiling mural.
“Mama,” she whispered.
Maria looked down. “What is it?”
“The doctor from the house is outside.”
Maria turned.
Through the frosted glass of the manager’s office, a man in a dark coat crossed the lobby.
Dr. Voss.
Silas saw him too late.
The bank lights went out.
Emergency red washed the room.
A hand clamped over Maria’s mouth from behind.
May you like
Lily screamed.
And in the sudden darkness, Dr. Voss whispered, “Your father should have burned the ledger when he had the chance.”
