Chapter 10 - The Woman in Red
Mara Vescari surrendered two days later.
She walked into a police precinct in Queens wearing jeans and a baseball cap.
No lawyer.
No weapon.
No drama.
Her first words:
“I am the woman in the red dress.”
That statement nearly destroyed the case.
For about thirty minutes.
Then she explained.
Bianca had ordered an exact copy of my anniversary outfit through her atelier.
Mara discovered it.
She knew something was planned at Il Cielo.
She stole the duplicate clothing.
Wore it herself.
Entered the kitchen using Bianca’s access card.
Her goal was to identify which dessert had been tampered with.
She paid the pastry cook to leave the station briefly.
The bottle Emma saw contained a reagent meant to test a sample.
Not poison.
But before Mara could finish, security nearly caught her.
She left.
Bianca entered afterward.
Same coat.
Same wig.
Another pair of red shoes.
Security footage blurred the two women into one.
The tattoo?
Mara had copied Bianca’s real tattoo.
A black lily hidden inside her wrist.
“Why?”
“To make anyone who saw me think I was Bianca.”
That worked.
Too well.
“Did you warn Emma?”
“No.”
“How did Emma know?”
“She followed me.”
Mara had seen Emma near the loading entrance earlier.
Given her food.
Emma followed because hungry children learn who is kind.
From the service corridor, Emma watched Mara test the dessert.
Then saw Bianca arrive with a second bottle.
Emma understood one thing.
Something bad had been put into a cake.
She ran.
Her warning saved Alessandro.
And nearly killed me.
“Why didn’t you stop Bianca?”
I asked.
Mara’s face broke.
“I tried.”
“She had a gun.”
“I ran to security.”
“They thought I was an intruder.”
“By the time I got back, Elena had eaten.”
“Why disappear afterward?”
“Bianca knew who I was.”
“Did she threaten you?”
“She killed my friend.”
Silence.
“Who?”
“A woman at the atelier.”
The employee found dead of an apparent overdose the day after my poisoning.
Another convenient tragedy.
“What does Bianca plan for June fourteenth?”
Mara looked at Alessandro.
“To make you choose.”
“Between?”
“The company and Elena.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“She talked about a funeral.”
“About your father.”
“About repeating history.”
Caterina had become secondary now.
Bianca was the active danger.
But Caterina created her.
Raised her.
Fed resentment.
Gave permission years earlier for Isabella to be “stopped.”
And now mother and daughter were cornered.
That made June fourteenth dangerous.
We had four days.
Alessandro wanted to evacuate me.
I refused.
He wanted Emma, Noah, and Lucia moved out of state.
Child protection agreed to relocate them temporarily.
That I supported.
Sofia went into secure housing.
Rachel and Mara both cooperated.
Celeste stayed protected.
Everyone connected to the conspiracy was being pulled away from ordinary life.
Bianca wanted that too.
Isolation.
Fear.
Control.
On June thirteenth, Alessandro received a package.
Inside:
His father’s rosary.
Taken from the family crypt.
And a photograph of me walking into the Reading Room at the hospital.
Taken that morning.
Someone was still close.
On the back:
MIDNIGHT.
FAMILY MAUSOLEUM.
COME ALONE OR ELENA DIES FIRST.
Alessandro looked at me.
I almost laughed.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Say I’m leaving town.”
“You are.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“If Bianca has someone close enough to photograph me inside a hospital, leaving creates another vulnerable route.”
“She wants me at the mausoleum.”
“Yes.”
“Alone.”
“She won’t get that.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Give her the illusion.”
Marco nodded.
“Controlled approach.”
Police disliked it.
Federal agents disliked it more.
Alessandro loved it.
That was reason enough for me to dislike it too.
But we had one advantage.
Bianca did not know Mara had surrendered.
We used Mara.
Not as bait.
As intelligence.
She knew hidden access points in the cemetery from Bianca’s old costume shoots for family memorial events.
Ridiculous rich-family habits finally became useful.
At 11:50 p.m., rain began.
Exactly like Il Cielo night.
I remained inside an armored surveillance vehicle two blocks away.
Alessandro entered the cemetery.
Alone to anyone watching.
Marco’s team moved through a lower service road.
Police surrounded perimeter exits.
Midnight.
The mausoleum door stood open.
Inside, candles burned.
A black coffin waited.
Bianca stood beside it.
Caterina sat in a chair.
Hands folded.
Silver hair perfect.
Even at midnight during a murder conspiracy, Caterina Moretti looked prepared for tea.
Alessandro stopped.
“Mother.”
Bianca’s voice echoed.
Not to him.
To Caterina.
“He came.”
Caterina looked at Alessandro.
“I told you he would.”
Then Bianca smiled.
“Happy anniversary, cousin.”
Alessandro glanced at the coffin.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“You chose better wood this time.”
Bianca laughed.
“You always joke when frightened.”
“I’m not frightened.”
“That’s your problem.”
Caterina stood.
“Enough.”
Bianca looked at her mother.
Something shifted.
Caterina had not come willingly.
I saw it on the hidden camera attached to Alessandro’s coat.
Her hands were marked.
Wrists bruised.
Bianca had taken her own mother hostage.
The conspiracy had finally eaten itself.
“Alessandro.”
Caterina said.
“Do not give her anything.”
Bianca turned.
Then struck her.
I heard Alessandro inhale.
But he did not move.
Bianca held up a remote.
“Everyone is so disciplined tonight.”
She smiled.
“Let’s test that.”
On the monitor beside her appeared a live video.
Me.
Inside the surveillance vehicle.
My heart stopped.
Bianca knew exactly where I was.
May you like
Then the vehicle doors locked.
And smoke began pouring from beneath the dashboard.
