Eyebrows raised, he nods. “Sure as sure, Boss. I know the glass got shot up some during the attack on the Old Don, may he rest in peace, but it was also one of the first repairs to be completed back then, on your orders. It’s bullet-resistant now, and there’s a steel gate that comes down automatic to shut it off from the house if the alarm goes off.”
I wave a hand impatiently. I don’t care about that sort of thing. “The plants?” I ask instead.
“The original gardener comes every week to give the plants some love—just like you ordered.”
He leads the way to the conservatory, Finch behind him, and I bring up the rear. Finch’s shoulders are square and pulled back, almost as though he’s expecting another sudden attack. This was where his biological father died, after all, so I can’t blame him, but if there’s one place we have kept as secure as our own townhouse, it’s Tino’s place.
Not that our townhouse has fared all that well.
Still, I had the feeling that one daysomethingwould turn up in Tino’s house. Checkbooks, bonds, jewels, various documents—including the results of Finch’s DNA test showing a direct genetic link, and Tino’s revised will naming Finch and his unborn child with Connie as heirs—were all in the safe in his study.
Important stuff, sure.
But the head of the Morelli Family, as I well know now, has even more important things that need to be preserved, and never in so obvious a place as a wall safe. In fact, I’d expected to find more material than I did in Tino’s safe deposit boxes. I have one myself, where I keep the most dangerous pieces of information that fall into my hands, and anything that I want to keep away from prying eyes. But we checked every one of Tino’s safe deposit boxes, and his bank accounts were straightforward.
I’d known that theremusthave been more, and that one remaining safe combination had been confirmation. I’d asked Angelo about it more than once, and while he’d agreed with me that there seemed to be something missing, he’d been no wiser than I. Since he’d spent a lot of time in the mansion, and had no clues to offer, I had to let it go in the end.
But the conservatory was a place where Tino preserved his privacy and enjoyed time alone to think. So, although it seems an unlikely place for secret safes, I want to check it over once more.
We arrive at the doorway to the conservatory, the air temperature decidedly warmer and more humid even though it’s now autumn in New York. Inside, the plants are slightly overgrown, but they have been kept in check over the years. It’s perhaps a littlewilderthan Tino preferred, but I…
I think I like it.
It’s giving me a sense ofdéjà vuthat I can’t place. I turn to Finch, wondering if he recognizes something about it, too, but the question dies before I even take breath. Finch’s teeth are clenched, I can tell by the way the cords in his neck stand out. “Angel,” I say, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Are you—?”
He swallows, staring into the conservatory like it’s a jungle with all sorts of sharp-toothed creatures waiting in there to pounce. “I just,” he croaks, and then swallows again. “Maybe I just need a second.”
I flick my head at Vitali, who backtracks to the kitchen and comes back with a cool glass of water. Meanwhile, I’ve helped Finch over to the love seat in the sitting room outside the conservatory. He takes the glass gratefully and swallows it down all in one go.
“Why don’t you wait here with Vitali,” I murmur to him. I know he wouldn’t be happy if I made a big deal out of things.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “I just…I could use a second to get my shit together.”
I understand. I find it moving myself to be in the house of my old mentor, without him in it. But the man was not just a mentor for Finch. He was blood—even if they never had the chance to get to know each other. So I give him a quick kiss and stand, locking eyes with Vitali, who merely nods at the silent order.
Then I turn and enter the conservatory.
* * *
For some reasonI expected a much longer walk to the center, but the path, though circular, spirals quickly in to the same small table and chairs that I remember so well from my visits here. I give in to nostalgia and take my usual chair, the one I always used to sit in when I came here to report to the Boss.
But it feelswrong, somehow.
I stand again and look around, wondering if there’s a safe hidden among the foliage, and then decide I’d be better off sitting in Tino’s usual chair, if I want to think like him. So, after another glance around as though his spirit might be watching, I re-seat myself where Tino used to sit. Feeling a little like Goldilocks, I decide that this position is just right.
I glance down at the base of the cement table, built for outside wear and much more durable and heavier than necessary in a more sheltered conservatory. I always thought it was actually built into the paving, but as I lean against it, it gives the tiniest wobble.
I push again, harder this time, and it gives an inch, leaving a dark ring of dust and dirt behind it. Underneath is a large mosaic tile, and when I look closer, I see a hole in it, disguised by clever placement within the mosaic design.
When I stamp my foot down on the tile with the hole, there is a hollow-sounding echo. I compare it to the flat thud my foot makes on the other tiles around it, and then I shove the whole table to one side, ignoring the flashes of pain in my belly, and praying that Finch won’t suddenly decide to make his way in. He’ll get annoyed if he thinks I’ve been too physically active. I leave the clearing to root among the plants and tools until I find a piece of metal rebar that I think will fit in the hole. It does, with some maneuvering, and then I carefully lever up the tile and shift it aside.
Underneath it is a steel door and a modern keypad. I crouch carefully, and, with a deliberate finger, enter the last code, the one that never worked on any of the other safes. I know it by heart, having puzzled over it for many nights, but I double-check it against the cryptic note I made on my phone about it as well, and then I pause and triple check it again.
It’s correct.
I hit ENTER.
As soon as I do, the door gives a satisfying, dull clunk, and bounces up on the hinge. I pull it open and use my phone flashlight to illuminate the dark space below.
