Page Forty-One Was About a Woman Named Rosa Bellandi
Chapter 03 - Page Forty-One Was About a Woman Named Rosa Bellandi
I did not call Gabriel.
I called the attorney whose name he had given me.
Then I checked her.
Three ways.
State bar.
Firm website.
A legal-aid director I knew from helping my mother fight an insurance denial.
Mara Levin.
Fifty-eight.
Commercial litigator.
No Rossi representation.
No criminal clients according to public records.
When I said Gabriel Rossi referred me, she laughed.
“That means he is trying very hard to look respectable.”
I liked her.
We met the next morning.
Public office.
Glass walls.
My notebook stayed in my bag until her engagement letter said exactly what I wanted.
She represented me.
Not Gabriel.
Not Salvatore.
No information released without permission unless law required.
Then she read page forty-one.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“This is not only family history.”
The ledger documented payments from Rossi-linked shipping companies in the 1980s.
Union officials.
Port inspectors.
Contractors.
Some names were dead.
Some companies gone.
But one repeated entry survived.
BELLANDI MARITIME — 12%.
I knew Bellandi only because one of Manhattan’s largest waterfront redevelopment firms still carried the name.
The modern company was legitimate.
Publicly traded.
Chairman:
Gabriel Rossi.
I stared.
“He runs Bellandi?”
“Rossi Urban Maritime owns controlling interest.”
“Why Bellandi?”
Mara turned pages.
Rosa Bellandi appeared throughout Matteo’s notes.
Not as criminal partner.
As owner.
Her father had started Bellandi Freight after the war.
By 1986, Rosa controlled three small shipping terminals.
Luca Rossi worked for her.
Salvatore wanted access.
Rosa refused.
Then an accident.
Warehouse fire.
Insurance dispute.
Debt.
Rossi money entered.
Bellandi lost two terminals.
Salvatore gained contracts.
Normal business, perhaps.
Except Matteo wrote:
FIRE WAS NOT S.R.
Then:
LUCA DISCOVERED WHO.
I kept reading.
Name:
Vittorio Rossi.
Salvatore’s father.
Gabriel’s grandfather.
Dead since 1998.
Matteo claimed Vittorio arranged the warehouse fire without Salvatore’s knowledge.
One night guard died.
Luca found proof.
Wanted police.
Salvatore begged him not to.
Not because he wanted the guard dead.
Because exposing Vittorio would destroy the family and implicate everyone in bribery.
Luca refused.
Then page forty-one.
SALVATORE DID NOT ORDER LUCA’S DEATH.
HE ORDERED SOMETHING WORSE.
MAKE HIM DISAPPEAR.
No body.
No murder.
A disappearance.
Salvatore arranged false identification through Matteo.
Sent Luca to Canada first.
Then Cleveland.
Told everyone a rival family killed him in Palermo.
Why?
To keep Vittorio from finding him.
Maybe protection.
Also silence.
Luca lived seventeen years unable to use his name.
Never saw his mother again.
Never saw Salvatore.
Matteo helped.
Then apparently hated himself for it.
Mara said:
“This is old.”
“Too old for charges?”
“Some acts, yes. Some consequences may remain relevant if money or corporate ownership flowed forward.”
We found the bigger problem three pages later.
Bellandi Maritime’s twelve-percent interest.
According to Matteo, Luca had secretly purchased part of Bellandi using his own money after Rosa became ill.
Shares held through a nominee.
Upon Luca’s supposed death, Salvatore absorbed the nominee stake into Rossi-controlled holdings.
But Luca was alive.
He had never transferred the shares.
If documents were accurate, Salvatore’s family may have built part of its modern legitimate empire using ownership it never legally possessed.
Gabriel chaired that empire now.
I closed the book.
“I need coffee.”
Mara nodded.
“You need more than coffee.”
“I can afford coffee.”
That was the problem.
My phone rang.
Ilvento.
Richard.
I answered.
“Tessa?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t come in tonight.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Administrative issue.”
“What issue?”
Silence.
Then:
“A guest complained about inappropriate conduct Friday.”
I laughed.
“Which guest?”
“You know I can’t—”
“Salvatore Rossi insulted me in another language and I answered.”
Richard lowered his voice.
“It isn’t Rossi.”
“Then who?”
“Our ownership group.”
Of course.
The restaurant belonged to Bellandi Hospitality Partners.
I had never noticed.
Mara had.
She pointed to the website on her screen.
Bellandi.
Same network.
My stomach dropped.
“Am I fired?”
“Suspended pending review.”
“Paid?”
“No.”
Mara held out her hand.
I put the phone on speaker.
She introduced herself.
Richard nearly swallowed his tongue.
By the end of the call, my suspension became paid pending investigation.
Lawyers.
Useful.
Then Gabriel called.
I did not answer.
He called once more.
Stopped.
Sent one text:
My father did not complain about you. I just learned Bellandi Hospitality placed you on leave. I am not intervening unless you ask.
I stared.
Mara read.
“He’s learning.”
“Or performing.”
“Those can overlap.”
Then another message.
From an unknown number.
A photograph of my apartment door.
No threat.
No words.
Just the door.
My blood went cold.
Mara immediately called police.
Not Gabriel.
Police.
Then building management.
Then a friend.
Boring layers.
No private army.
Twenty minutes later, Gabriel texted again.
Different subject.
My father has disappeared.
I stared.
“What?”
Mara looked over.
The next message:
He left his security detail at 10:14 this morning. His cane was found in a church on Mulberry Street.
Then:
The church is where Luca Rossi married Rosa Bellandi in 1989.
I looked at the notebook.
Nothing in it said Luca and Rosa had married.
Nothing until I checked the inside back cover.
A small envelope was taped there.
Marriage certificate.
LUCA ROSSI.
ROSA BELLANDI.
May you like
And below it, one child listed in Matteo’s handwriting.
SON: GABRIEL.
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