Chapter 2 - THE BRASS KEY
Gabriel Moretti took the small brass key from my daughter’s palm.
The silence in the grand dining room felt suffocating. Thirty-four of New York’s most elite guests sat paralyzed. Nobody touched their champagne.
“Nicholas,” Gabriel said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble that echoed off the crystal chandelier. “What does this key open?”
Nicholas, Gabriel’s younger brother, looked like he was going to be sick. He loosened his silk tie and took another step back from the table.
“I don't know,” Nicholas stammered, avoiding Gabriel’s piercing stare. “I just... I heard rumors. Years ago. About a lockbox Daniel kept.”
“Rumors?” Gabriel repeated, stepping slowly toward his brother. “You just told me to call a lawyer before anyone leaves this room. That doesn't sound like a rumor, Nicholas.”
Vanessa’s red high heels clicked frantically against the marble floor as she backed away toward the arched doorway.
“This is insane,” she laughed, a shrill, panicked sound. “Gabriel, you’re listening to a child! And a maid! They forged that document to ruin our engagement!”
Gabriel didn't even look at her. “Dante.”
The massive head of security stepped out from the shadows of the hallway.
“Lock the doors,” Gabriel ordered. “Nobody leaves.”
The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut. The lock clicked with deafening finality. Several guests gasped, and I saw a wealthy socialite at the end of the table pull out her phone, her hands shaking.
I pulled Lucy closer, shielding her against my side. My heart was pounding so hard I felt dizzy.
My husband, Daniel. He had been the head groundskeeper here for a decade before a sudden heart attack took him from us four years ago. Or at least, that’s what the coroner’s report had said.
“Sarah,” Gabriel said, turning to me. The dangerous edge in his voice softened just a fraction. “Did Daniel ever mention a lockbox to you?”
“No, sir,” I said honestly, my voice trembling. “He just... he loved the rose garden. He spent hours out there, even off the clock.”
Rosa Moretti stood up slowly from the head of the table. “He wasn't just gardening, Gabriel. He was digging.”
I looked at Rosa, stunned. “Digging?”
“I saw him,” Rosa said, her eyes welling with tears. “The week before he died. It was pouring rain, the middle of the night. I couldn't sleep, so I looked out the window. Daniel was in the center of the rose garden, digging a deep hole near the marble fountain.”
“Why didn't you tell me this?” Gabriel demanded.
“Because the next morning, the hole was gone,” Rosa explained, wiping a tear from her wrinkled cheek. “And the day after that... Daniel was dead.”
My breath hitched. I clutched Lucy so tightly she squirmed in my grip.
“He had a heart attack,” I whispered.
Rosa looked at me with immense sorrow. “Sarah, sweetheart. Margaret Whitaker was a nurse before she married. She found Daniel’s body in the garden that morning.”
I froze. “Margaret found him?”
“She did,” Rosa nodded. “And she told me his skin was flushed cherry red. And there was a distinct smell of bitter almonds around him.”
The dining room erupted into horrified murmurs.
Even I knew what that meant.
Bitter almonds. Cyanide.
My husband hadn't had a heart attack. He was murdered.
“You’re crazy, old woman!” Vanessa shrieked, pointing a shaking manicured finger at Rosa. “You’re making this up to protect the maid!”
“Enough,” Gabriel commanded, his patience completely gone. He held up the brass key. “We’re going to the rose garden. Now.”
He turned to his security chief. “Dante, bring shovels. And bring Vanessa and Nicholas.”
As the security team herded the protesting couple toward the terrace doors, Gabriel crouched down to my eye level.
“Sarah,” he said softly, “take Lucy to my mother’s sitting room. Wait there.”
I shook my head. “No.”
Gabriel looked surprised.
“If Daniel hid something out there,” I said, my voice finally finding its strength, “if someone killed him for it... I need to see it.”
Gabriel studied my face for a long moment. Then, he gave a single nod.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
We walked out into the cool night air. The floodlights illuminated the massive estate, casting long, eerie shadows across the manicured lawns.
Dante and two other guards were already in the center of the rose garden, shovels biting into the soft earth near the marble fountain.
Vanessa was crying hysterically now, screaming threats about her father’s lawyers. Nicholas stood completely silent, his face pale as a sheet.
“Sir!” Dante called out, dropping his shovel. “We hit metal.”
Gabriel stepped forward.
Dante reached into the dirt and pulled out a heavy, rusted metal lockbox. It was caked in mud, but the brass padlock on the front was surprisingly clean.
Gabriel looked at me. I handed him the brass key Lucy had given me.
He inserted the key. It turned with a heavy click.
Gabriel opened the box.
Inside was a thick, leather-bound notebook wrapped in plastic.
And resting on top of the plastic was a heavy gold pocket watch.
I gasped.
I recognized that watch.
But it didn't belong to my husband.
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It belonged to the man standing right next to Gabriel.
Nicholas.
