The Woman Who Held His Power of Attorney
Chapter 04 - The Woman Who Held His Power of Attorney
Marina Costello arrived before dinner.
Matteo had not called her.
Again.
People in this family had a strange talent for appearing when secrets moved.
She entered Lorenzo’s room carrying a leather folio.
Black dress.
Pearl earrings.
No visible fear.
“Matteo.”
Then she saw Clara.
“Ms. Jenkins.”
“You know me.”
“I hired the agency.”
Clara frowned.
“Mrs. Ames hired me.”
“Through my office.”
Interesting.
Matteo noticed too.
“Why?”
Marina looked at him.
“Because your father had gone through three nurses.”
“That is not what I asked.”
A pause.
“I manage his medical trust.”
Lorenzo’s fingers tightened around the wheelchair arm.
Clara saw.
“Would you like her to leave?”
One blink.
Yes.
Marina’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
Matteo looked at Clara.
“You asked him?”
“Yes.”
“He has capacity?”
“That requires formal assessment.”
Marina stepped closer.
“I am his medical proxy.”
Clara looked at Lorenzo.
“Do you want Marina making medical decisions for you?”
One blink.
No.
Marina’s face hardened.
“You cannot determine capacity with blinking.”
“No.”
Clara stayed calm.
“But I can determine preference.”
Matteo said, “Sit.”
Marina did not.
“I have a client meeting.”
“My father is your client.”
“Yes.”
“And he just told us Enzo is alive.”
Silence.
There.
Marina’s eyes changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Matteo saw.
“You knew.”
She looked toward Lorenzo.
Then back.
“This is not a conversation for staff.”
Clara almost laughed.
Lorenzo made a rough sound.
“Stay.”
Everyone froze.
Clear.
One word.
Directed at Clara.
Marina’s face went pale.
Clara sat.
“Apparently I’m staying.”
Matteo almost smiled.
Marina did not.
“What do you know about Enzo?” Matteo asked.
She placed the folio on the table.
“He survived Palermo.”
“Who knew?”
“Cesare. Your father. Me.”
Matteo stared.
“My father knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why tell us he died?”
“Enzo asked.”
“Why?”
“He owed people money. Dangerous people.”
“That describes half our relatives.”
Marina’s mouth tightened.
“He wanted a new identity.”
“So the funeral.”
“Staged.”
Matteo looked at Lorenzo.
“You agreed?”
Lorenzo opened his eyes.
One blink.
Yes.
“Then why did he come back?”
Marina answered slowly.
“Teresa.”
Clara felt the room change.
“What about her?” Matteo asked.
“Enzo believed she had found documents linking someone in the family to money missing from the elder-care trust.”
“Cesare?”
“Not Cesare.”
Matteo frowned.
“Then who?”
Marina looked toward Lorenzo.
“He believed Lorenzo.”
The old man slammed one hand against the wheelchair arm.
“No.”
Clearer now.
Marina watched him.
“He thought you had taken money and silenced Teresa when she found out.”
Lorenzo’s breathing accelerated.
Clara moved closer.
“Slow.”
Matteo’s voice turned cold.
“Why did you drive Enzo here?”
Marina looked at him.
“Because Lorenzo asked me to.”
Lorenzo shook his head violently.
Two blinks.
No.
Clara said, “He disagrees.”
“He may not remember.”
Lorenzo slammed his hand again.
“Liar.”
The word cracked through the room.
Matteo stood between Marina and the door.
“Did you have anything to do with my mother’s death?”
“No.”
Lorenzo made a sound of disgust.
Marina looked at him.
“I did not poison Teresa.”
Clara caught the wording.
“Who did?”
Marina’s eyes moved to her.
Too fast.
“You know someone did.”
“I know Lorenzo believes it.”
“No.”
Clara shook her head.
“You said ‘I did not poison Teresa.’ Not ‘Teresa wasn’t poisoned.’”
Marina stared.
Matteo almost smiled without humor.
“She’s good.”
“Annoying,” Marina said.
“Frequently.”
Then Marina looked at Lorenzo.
“Tell him.”
The old man went still.
“Tell Matteo why Teresa had too much digoxin.”
Lorenzo’s face changed.
Fear.
Guilt.
Not accusation.
Clara saw it.
Matteo did too.
“Father?”
Lorenzo’s mouth trembled.
“No.”
Marina leaned forward.
“You changed her pills.”
Matteo stopped breathing.
Clara stared.
Lorenzo shook his head violently.
Two blinks.
No.
Marina continued.
“You thought the dose was too low.”
“Stop,” Clara said.
Marina ignored her.
“You moved tablets from one organizer to another.”
Lorenzo’s hand began shaking.
“Stop.”
Clara stood between them.
“His blood pressure is dropping.”
Matteo turned.
“Marina, enough.”
Clara checked Lorenzo.
Rapid pulse.
Sweating.
She slowed him.
Breathing.
Eyes.
Stay with me.
After several minutes, he stabilized.
Clara looked at Marina.
“You do not get to interrogate an eighty-one-year-old medically fragile man because you have a law degree.”
Marina’s jaw tightened.
“I was there.”
Clara paused.
“When?”
“The night before Teresa died.”
Silence.
“She complained Lorenzo had reorganized her medications.”
“Why?”
“He thought the nurse had mixed them.”
Matteo looked at his father.
“Did you?”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
One blink.
Yes.
Clara’s chest tightened.
Medication error by spouse?
Possible.
Horrible.
But Marina had more.
“I photographed the pill box,” she said.
“Why?” Clara asked.
“Because Teresa was angry.”
“Do you still have the photograph?”
“Yes.”
She opened her folio.
Seven compartments.
Labels.
One compartment contained two full digoxin tablets.
Prescribed dose:
Half tablet daily.
Dangerous if both taken.
Matteo looked sick.
“Father.”
Lorenzo’s face collapsed.
“Not…”
His voice shook.
“Not mine.”
Clara looked up.
“What?”
He pointed at the photograph.
“Changed.”
Marina’s expression hardened.
“This is the picture I took.”
Lorenzo slammed his hand down.
“After.”
The room froze.
Clara leaned closer.
“After what?”
He forced the words.
“After… she… fell.”
Matteo stopped.
“So the pill box was photographed after Mother became ill.”
Marina’s face changed.
“Lorenzo is confused.”
Clara said, “Possibly.”
Marina looked relieved too quickly.
Then Clara added:
“Which is why we verify the original file metadata.”
Matteo held out his hand.
“Original.”
Marina did not move.
“Now.”
She slowly reached into the folio and removed a flash drive.
Clara noticed her hand shaking.
Small.
Enough.
Matteo took it.
“Anything else?”
Marina looked toward Lorenzo.
Then at Clara.
“Yes.”
“Enzo did come back three years ago.”
“We know.”
“He came back because he believed Teresa had been murdered.”
“By who?”
Marina closed her eyes.
“He thought Lorenzo did it.”
The old man stared at her.
Horror.
Then Marina continued.
“And when Enzo confronted him, Lorenzo had a stroke.”
Matteo looked at his father.
“Is that true?”
One blink.
Yes.
Clara felt the pieces shift again.
Enzo alive.
Teresa dead.
Lorenzo accused.
Stroke.
Medication.
Silence.
Marina stood.
“You keep assuming Lorenzo became silent because someone needed him quiet.”
Clara looked at her.
Marina’s voice softened.
“What if he became silent because he believed he killed his wife?”
May you like
Then she looked toward the flash drive in Matteo’s hand.
“And what if the proof you’re about to open is the reason he was supposed to keep believing it?”
