Then, I go about the tedious but not entirely pointless task of picking out a couple books that I actually want to read. While I’m doing so, I look for anything particularly interesting on the shelves. There’re some records of sales in lumber from when the family used to do that, but nothing out of the ordinary.
“Carmine and Soren here?” I ask as I step toward the library doors.
Cassian shakes his head. “No, they decided to stay out on their own while the newlyweds are on their honeymoon. Have a bit of one themselves, I guess,” he explains with a slight smile. There’s a sadness in his eyes though.
“Tommy and Tiberi are asleep, they got too drunk,” he adds.
“I’ll keep quiet then.” I put a finger to my mouth. The guy chuckles and then goes back to reading.
Cassian is the easier brother to deal with, it seems. He’s still young enough that he isn’t as suspicious as the others might be. That will likely change in the next few years.
Poor kid.
It’s just the way of this life though. When you’re in a crime family, eventually you have to pick a role and stick to it.
I make my way down the hallway quietly with my books in hand, and the first thing I do is go upstairs and grab a few articles of Alessio’s clothing from his closet, just in case I need to prove that I’m here for him.
While I’m in his room, I snoop around in his desk. Looking for anything interesting.
It feels wrong to be doing this. I find photographs of him with his mother and Carmine. I find letters he’s written but never sent. I don’t read them, even though it’s exactly the kind of thing Eivor would want me to do.
When I’m sure I can leave his room and tell Eivor that I didn’t find anything of interest, I do.
There’s one more place I need to go though.
Carmine’s office.
The office that used to belong to his father, and his before him.
The floor creaks underneath my feet, and I pray that Cassian is too engrossed in his late-night reading to realize that I’m passing the library again. And there’s only a couple rooms past the library.
The office, the board room, or drawing room.
I move to open the office door, but it’s locked.
With a click of my tongue, I reach into one of my pockets and pull out a lock pick. This is far more precarious than I want. If I’m caught doing this, there’s no question that I’ll be under fire.
With gentle and slow hands, I unlock the door, listening to it click several times. I shove the lock picking kit back into my pocket, folded up where it belongs, and open the door.
The office is still and dark. I close the door behind me, and turn on the light. It’s another move that could cause me trouble, but it’s what needs to be done.
I search the most obvious areas first. The bookshelves, the tops of tables and the desk. There’s information about the driver from the shooting. Theories that Carmine has written down and they’re not much different than the ones I’ve formed myself.
There’s a journal, that I open and quickly realize I’m reading a page about Carmine’s first few interactions with Soren. Beingrecapped several weeks after they happened, along with his father’s death. I flip through a few more pages.
It’s clear how intense the conflict between the Dresvannis and the Fiorellis was, and I wonder if Carmine has any idea that it’s not over just because he’s married his brother off to Rosalie.
Nevertheless, there’s nothing there for me to find. Nothing that would be of any use to Eivor and his desire to blackmail or embarrass them into giving him more power than he deserves.
I’m about to give up after unlocking the final drawer and relocking it, when I realize the bottom panel of the desk is uneven. Ever so slightly. It doesn’t look like an issue with the make, and as I touch and tug at it, it gives.
Dust flutters out as I take the bottom panel of the desk off just enough to reach my large hand in and feel around. Wood, dust, pin pricks of small nails that have been dislodged.
Papers.
I can feel that they are glossy papers under my fingertips.
I pull them out, a couple at a time, until I don’t feel anymore. I doubt Carmine even knows they’re here, since the dust tells me that the panel hasn’t been taken off in at least a year.
