Infidelity: Inheritance (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by T. C. Winters

  The detectives escorted my sister down the stairs, and I followed. “Bettina. I’ll call an attorney. Don’t say anything until you’re represented.” My mind reeled, unable to hit on a solution to keep my sister safe.

  Sera and Deloris met us by the front door. Deloris’s frozen features never altered, but Sera sobbed and reached for Bettina. The detectives jerked Bettina away and hustled her out the door. Another group of officers pushed through the entryway, carrying a search warrant. Everything happened in a kaleidoscope of color and sound. In the chaos, Deloris managed to persuade Sera to get her coat and wait in the SUV.

  When she was out of earshot, Deloris gave me a cell phone. “Search for Warren Bailey in the contacts list. Tell him what happened and ask him to meet us downtown. I’ll stay with Sera and you stay with the officers during the search.” She patted my cheek and dashed to her vehicle.

  I did as instructed. Mr. Bailey assured me he’d meet Bettina within the hour and he’d push for a speedy bond hearing. He advised me to say nothing to the officers conducting the search. I tried to go to Bettina’s room, but a woman in an NYPD uniform stopped me before I could get up the stairs.

  “Mr. Costello, please have a seat in another part of the home. I’ve been assigned to stay with you.”

  Assigned to stay with me? She made her comments sound as if she were providing a service. My ears ringing, I whirled and stomped into the kitchen where I poured myself a cup of coffee. In a childish gesture, I refused to offer coffee to the officer. I’d only consumed half of a cup when a male officer came in carrying a baggie with what looked like dried oregano.

  “Mr. Costello, we found this in your sister’s room. Did you know she smoked marijuana?”

  The rhythm of my heart skipped into overdrive. I dropped my gaze so he couldn’t read my expression. “No. That can’t be hers.”

  He shook the plastic bag. “We found this in her backpack. It’s not enough to charge her with intent to distribute, but we have her on illegal possession.”

  I stared at the bag. Wrapping my trembling fingers around the coffee cup, I tried to breathe evenly. My brain refused to accept what was right in front of me. My sweet Bettina stashed pot in her room.

  What other secrets is she hiding?

  “Sir, would you like some water?” The female officer captured my arm and guided me to a stool at the breakfast bar. “You’re pale. Do you feel faint?”

  Her words were hollow, as if they came from a great distance. I blinked and focused on her. “I’m fine.” My fingernails tapped against the cup. I jumped from the stool. “I need to go to my sister.”

  Applying pressure to my shoulders, she eased me onto the seat. “She’s being processed. No one can see her for a while.”

  “She’ll need me.” There had to be another explanation. “Maybe someone else put the pot in her room. Is there a way to be sure the bag is hers?”

  “The lab will do a fingerprint analysis.” She glanced at the officer holding the bag, then back toward me.

  The officer with the baggie left, and I hopped from the stool, snatched my cup, and stomped to the sink. I washed the cup and poured out the remaining coffee in the pot. Using a scrub brush, I scoured the coffeepot, then the sink. When that was done, I spent the next hour cleaning out the refrigerator and washing the used containers.

  Shortly after I ran out of steam, Detective Sparks announced the search was finished. I ushered everyone to the door, then dashed upstairs for my checkbook. Elena met me in the hallway. “Where have you been?”

  “Watching the search. They took her diary.” Her tightly pursed lips and the deep lines in her forehead belied her calm voice.

  “The cops seized a fifteen-year-old girl’s diary? What do they hope to accomplish beside discovering she hates the world?” My voice rose a couple of octaves at the end of the sentence.

  Elena blew a puff of air from between her lips. “I overheard them talking about an entry from last week where she said she hated her dad. That isn’t going to help.”

  As if her coffin needed another nail. “This can’t be happening.” I squeezed my forehead to ease the pounding.

  She snatched my hand from my forehead. “Well it is, so stop whining and start finding a way to be proactive.” Yanking me by the elbow, she pulled me down the stairs. “Let’s go downtown, find the attorney, and try to see Bettina. The attorney should be able to tell us what evidence there is against her.”

  I struggled to maintain my balance as we hurtled downstairs and out the front door. She sprinted to her rented Subaru and revved the engine before I cleared the front bumper. I hopped into the passenger seat and she put the car in drive just as I hauled my feet inside the vehicle. At least she’d found an outlet for her anger. I allowed mine to curdle my insides.

  The morning rush was over and the traffic was light, but the drive to Central Booking took an eternity. When we arrived, I tried to jump out of the car in front of the building, but Elena held me back.

  “Wait until I park. You can’t be wandering around without a bodyguard—without me.”

  She parked a few blocks away and we jogged to the front doors. Inside, the noise level made a discussion impossible and the frenzied activity stunned me. The odor of human waste drifting up my nose acted as a smelling salt. Elena tugged me along as she approached an information desk and asked where to find my sister. The officer grunted something and Elena leaned closer. The man pointed toward an elevator and Elena towed me in that direction. Once the elevator doors closed, Elena said, “Bettina isn’t going to be arraigned until tomorrow morning. She can’t have visitors. Deloris texted and said she and Sera were interviewed. They’ll want to talk to you as well.”

  I started to protest, but she held up a palm. “The attorney’s here. You clearly know nothing, so just get this over with.”

  The elevator doors opened and a weeping Sera and a tight-lipped Deloris greeted us. An older man in a three-piece suit stood next to them holding a leather briefcase. Sera lunged into my arms.

  “May I assume this is Dante Costello?” The man’s voice was low and masculine like an aging movie star’s. “I’m Warren Bailey, Bettina’s attorney. May I have a moment to speak privately?”

  “Of course.” I hugged Sera and disengaged myself. “I’ll follow you.”

  He escorted me to a small room with a conference table and chairs. He selected a seat and gestured for me to do the same. “You’re being asked to provide a voluntary interview. I’d advise against doing so.”

  “I have nothing that could be used against Bettina. She was in school when our father was murdered.”

  He steepled his fingers. “She skipped school that day. She hasn’t said where she was, which in my opinion is hurting her case. When you have a chance to talk to her, I’d like you to convince her to tell us where she went and with whom.” He laid his palms flat against the table. “She was printed when they brought her in. They were the same as the prints on the chain found around Mr. Costello’s body and the steering wheel of the truck used to drag him to his death.”

  I had to turn away as my world tilted. “I can’t believe this. She loved him. Something isn’t right.”

  He reached across the table and patted my knuckles. “Don’t speak to the police unless I’m present. At the arraignment tomorrow morning, I’ll try to convince the judge to allow bail because everything they have is circumstantial. Your family needs to be at the arraignment to show the judge she has family in the area and isn’t a flight risk.”

  “She has to stay in jail tonight?”

  “Yes.” He straightened his tie. “There isn’t anything you can do for her today. Just be in court tomorrow. I’ll enter a plea of not guilty, and the judge will decide if she’ll be remanded or if she can get out on bail.”

  “Remanded?” The conversation seemed bizarre. My sister, bail, arraignment. None of those words should be used together.

  “Sent back to jail.” He stood and grasped the handle on his briefcase. �
�Murder involving torture is a capital offense. Dragging someone behind a vehicle is a form of torture. Plus, you are a wealthy family with the means to transport her to a foreign country, making her a flight risk.”

  The skin underneath my collar pulsed with every heartbeat. “But she’s only fifteen.”

  “The court may want her tried as an adult due to the heinous nature of the crime.”

  “She didn’t do it.” My shout didn’t seem to faze him.

  “We need to prove she didn’t. You do your part to get the real story, and I’ll do my part by getting the charges dropped.” He sailed out the door.

  Elena stood alone near the elevators, her back against the wall. At my approach, she straightened. “Deloris drove Serafina home. They’re picking up Caterina from the academy.” She jammed her finger on the down button.

  The doors opened and we stepped in. Over the sound of the elevator motor, I said, “I want to drive.”

  She reached into her purse and tossed me the keys.

  When she didn’t question me, I felt the necessity to explain. “I need to do something. Ever since Dad died I’ve just been coasting—letting people lead me around and listening to everyone’s theories.” I smoothed the hair falling over my ears. “As of now, I’ll make the decisions on where I’m going and how I’m going to get there.”

  Chapter 7

  Elena retrieved her gun from under the seat where she’d hidden it before going into the jail. I got behind the wheel and drove toward the Hudson River.

  With the radio blasting classical music, I navigated the vehicle through the lunch-hour traffic. Pier 40 had plenty of spaces available as I maneuvered around the pedestrians, found a parking space close to the exit, and turned in. Locking the doors, we ambled out of the parking structure toward the water. “I want to walk for a while. How about lunch at Giorgione’s on Spring Street? My treat.”

  “I’d love to.” She tucked her weapon into her belt and reached for my hand.

  Breath abandoned my lungs. I’d had friends who supported me when I needed help, but never anyone who would stand beside me in turbulent times such as this. A light breeze kicked up a strand of her hair and she lifted her face upward to capture the sun’s rays.

  I squeezed her fingers. “Thanks. I haven’t told you how much I appreciate what you’re doing. I couldn’t have gotten through this morning without you.” We strolled toward the sidewalk and joined the other people taking advantage of a beautiful spring day. The sound of the birds helped to calm my shattered nerves.

  A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “You’re making me blush. Do go on.”

  The sunlight glared off the water, nearly blocking my view as two bicycles rode straight for us. The riders’ attire consisted of black hoodies drawn low and tight over their faces and dark gloves. The gloves caught my attention because they were the kind worn by medical personnel, not bicyclists. Grabbing Elena by the waist, I threw her out of the path of the oncoming bikes.

  The first bike slammed into me at full speed, while the second veered into my side. The force of the impact tossed me on my ass. My palms burned as I tried to break my fall.

  One rider nabbed me by the collar, hauled me to my feet, and wrapped his arms around my torso in a gesture that from a distance would appear as if he were helping me up. He squeezed my ribs with enough force to stop the expansion of my lungs. The other rider knelt beside Elena with a knee on her chest, immobilizing her.

  Pressing his mouth so close to my ear that I could smell the beer on his breath, the man whispered, “Give back the paintin’ yuh family stole from mine, and yuh sistah’s problems go ’way.” He completed his ambush by shoving me to the ground.

  The whole thing lasted less than thirty seconds. Before either of us could recover, they’d mounted their bikes and ridden off. Elena leaped from the ground and lunged after them, her gun aimed at their backs. Other pedestrians hurried to our aid, but backed away after seeing Elena’s gun.

  “Wait. Let them go.” My scraped hands and bruised ribs protested my movement.

  Elena wheeled toward me, her forehead crinkling. “Why? I could’ve dropped at least one of them.” Her gaze returned to the fleeing men. “We need to find out who sent them.”

  “I know who sent them.” My hips ached from the fall, and I tried to rub away the pain.

  “Did you recognize them?” The lines in her forehead increased tenfold.

  “No, but the badass who pushed me said his family wanted the painting, and if we gave it to them, Bettina’s problems would go away.” In the distance, the men hopped off their bikes and tossed them into a waiting truck. “He had a Boston accent.”

  “Cuccia?” She bounded forward and stuck her nose close to mine. “So they are behind this. Why would Bonetti steal from them?”

  “He didn’t. I think my father did.” I reached for her and towed her toward the parking garage. “C’mon. I’m pretty sure I know how to find out.”

  She said nothing until we were inside her Subaru. “How can the Cuccia family make Bettina’s problems go away?”

  I studied her while considering her question. “I don’t know.” A pent-up breath escaped. “I don’t want to believe she killed him, but the evidence is stacked against her. Maybe they have influence over a judge.” I started the car and backed out.

  On the way home, Elena and I discussed where else to hunt for the painting, but I wanted to know how—and why—my father would’ve pilfered the painting.

  By the time we arrived at the house, we’d formed a plan. Having missed lunch, we migrated toward the kitchen where the aroma of garlic and tomatoes greeted us. Sera stood at the breakfast bar amidst a pile of dirty dishes and a bounty of food.

  She raised flour-covered fingers when she saw us gaping. “I know we do not need more food on top of what friends have already brought, but I could not sit still while Bettina is in a jail cell.” A whimper escaped and she slapped her hand over her mouth, leaving a streak of flour on her chin.

  Elena snagged two plates from the cabinet, handed one to me, and scooped up a heaping pile of ravioli onto the other. “Leave getting Bettina out of jail to us. You keep cooking.” Stabbing a piece of ravioli with a fork, she rammed it into her mouth. “Come on, Dante. Let’s get to work.”

  I tried to follow, but she wheeled and cast a pointed look at my empty plate.

  “Food. You need some.” She poked a finger into my chest. “Get a plate or I won’t help you.”

  I did as she asked and we carried our food to the office where I booted up my dad’s computer. I knew the passwords to his programs, so we located his accounting software within a few minutes.

  Deloris arrived as we were opening the program. “What are you hunting for?” We told her about the attack and she dragged a chair close. “If they were able to find you so quickly after an impromptu trip to the river, and launch an attack with bikes, they’re keeping close tabs on you.” She blew out a gust of air and refocused. “What specifically do you expect to find?”

  “I’m searching for something unusual in the deliveries. Dad’s will instructed us to sell the delivery trucks, which was an odd request. I figured making our own deliveries wasn’t profitable, but what if there was another reason for his request?” I waited until the women grasped what I was saying. “We need to check the deliveries. See if anything out of the ordinary occurred.”

  Elena and Deloris stood at the same time. Deloris said, “Let me bring my laptop down here so I can access the electronic truck logs. You and Elena go through the company finances. Check for any unusual deposits or withdrawals.” She bolted out of the room.

  I started digging into the financials while Elena ate. She finished all her ravioli and half of mine before offering to trade places so I could eat.

  “No, thanks. I’ve figured out how to read this thing and I’ve gone through the first quarter of last year. I didn’t see anything unusual, but I want to keep poking around.” I returned my attention to the screen and she
picked up my half-finished plate.

  Deloris reappeared and tucked herself into a corner of the couch with her laptop. Elena peered over my shoulder while I went through the spring files. Her breasts rubbed against my sleeve, sending lightning bolts down my arm. My neck hurt and my eyes burned as I moved into the summer months. An hour later, I’d gone through most of last year’s data and found nothing out of the ordinary. The faint aroma of cookies made my stomach growl. “Let’s take a break. My neck hurts from hunching over this computer.” I checked over my shoulder to determine if Deloris heard me.

  She was absorbed in something on the screen and had compiled a stack of notes at her side. “Dante, I’ve found discrepancies in the logs regarding the drop-offs and pick-ups. At least twice a month, a truck went to a warehouse in Boston, but no vendors or customers are listed at that address, and there are no order forms or purchase receipts. The truck came back to Antonio’s warehouse, but made no other stops in between. A few days later, another truck would make an unscheduled delivery, but again, not at a vendor or customer’s address in the database.”

  I knocked over the trash can in my haste to get to her computer. “Where did the second trucks deliver?”

  “That’s the thing. The deliveries were all over the United States. Some were duplicate addresses, but only in a few instances. I checked the owner’s name on the Boston warehouse, but it was a corporation owned by a second corporation. I need more time to follow the trail for a name.” She bit her lower lip and tapped on the keyboard.

  “Can you use the delivery addresses to find the names of the companies?” I hoped something would point us to the location of the painting.

  “I’ve found the names on about half, but some are private residences—two were funeral homes.” She looked away from the screen. “I don’t know how we’re going to search a private residence for a painting. In just this past year, I found over one hundred unspecified deliveries. Any one of them could’ve been the painting.”