Chapter 3 - THE GOLD WATCH
Nicholas violently flinched as if the gold watch were a venomous snake.
“That’s not mine,” Nicholas stammered, backing away from the freshly dug hole. “Somebody planted that!”
Gabriel slowly lifted the watch from the lockbox. Even in the dim floodlights, the engraved initials N.M. gleamed on the back casing.
“It’s yours, Nicholas,” Gabriel said, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Our father gave it to you for your twenty-first birthday. You claimed you lost it in Vegas five years ago.”
“I did!” Nicholas panicked. “I swear I did!”
I stepped closer, my hands shaking. “Mr. Moretti, look at the chain.”
Gabriel turned the watch over. The delicate gold chain was snapped in half.
“There was a struggle,” Dante noted gruffly, standing beside his boss. “Looks like it was torn off someone’s vest.”
My stomach churned. Four years ago, my husband had come home with a nasty bruise on his jaw. He told me he’d been hit by a rogue tree branch during a storm. Two days later, he was dead.
Gabriel set the watch aside and carefully unwrapped the leather-bound notebook.
He opened to the first page. It was filled with Daniel’s neat, meticulous handwriting.
“It’s a logbook,” Gabriel murmured, his eyes scanning the pages. “Daniel was tracking contractors coming in and out of the estate at night.”
“Why would the groundskeeper track contractors?” Rosa asked, shivering slightly as she stood behind me, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
“Because they weren't contractors,” Gabriel read, his jaw tightening. “Daniel writes here: October 12th. Unmarked trucks arriving at 2 AM. Nicholas supervising. Unloading heavy crates into the old wine cellar.”
Gabriel flipped a page.
“October 14th. Found white powder residue near the cellar doors. Tastes metallic. Nicholas threatened to fire me if I mentioned it to Gabriel.”
The silence in the rose garden was absolute, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling through the thorny bushes.
“You were running narcotics through our family home?” Gabriel asked, his voice dropping an octave.
“No!” Nicholas cried, falling to his knees on the damp grass. “Gabe, you have to listen to me! I was in debt! Deep debt! The Colombians were going to kill me!”
“So you used our father’s estate as a stash house?” Gabriel roared, grabbing Nicholas by the collar of his expensive suit and hauling him to his feet. “While my mother was sleeping upstairs? While a nine-year-old child was playing in these gardens?”
“It was only supposed to be for a month!” Nicholas sobbed. “But Daniel found out! He started snooping!”
I felt a cold rage building in my chest.
“Did you kill him?” I screamed, lunging forward.
Dante caught me around the waist, pulling me back gently but firmly.
“Did you poison my husband?!” I sobbed, struggling against the guard’s grip.
Nicholas shook his head frantically. “No! Sarah, I swear to God, I didn't! We fought in the garden that night, yes! He grabbed my watch chain and it snapped! But I didn't kill him! I paid him off!”
Gabriel froze. “You paid him?”
“Yes!” Nicholas cried. “I gave him fifty thousand dollars in cash to keep his mouth shut and look the other way! I didn't kill him!”
Gabriel looked down at the lockbox. He sifted through the remaining plastic wrapping.
There was no cash inside.
“If you paid him,” Gabriel said slowly, “where is the money?”
Before Nicholas could answer, Vanessa suddenly made a break for it.
She hiked up her red silk gown and sprinted across the lawn toward the driveway.
“Get her,” Gabriel barked.
Dante didn't even have to run. He just whistled.
Two perimeter guards stepped out from the shadows near the gates, blocking Vanessa’s path. She crashed into them, screaming and clawing, but they easily restrained her and dragged her back to the rose garden.
Her dress was torn, her hair wild.
“Let me go!” she shrieked.
Gabriel walked over to her. He didn't yell. He just held up the property agreement—the forged document transferring the estate to Vanessa’s father.
“You didn't just forge this to sell the land,” Gabriel realized, his eyes narrowing. “You forged it because you needed Margaret Whitaker out of that cottage.”
Vanessa stopped screaming. She glared at him, breathing heavily.
“Why?” Gabriel demanded.
Lucy, who had been hiding behind my legs this whole time, suddenly spoke up.
“Because of the floorboards,” my daughter said softly.
Everyone turned to look at the nine-year-old.
“What do you mean, sweetheart?” Gabriel asked, his tone instantly softening.
“Grandma Margaret told me,” Lucy said, pointing a small finger toward the old cottage in the distance. “She said Daniel gave her a heavy bag to hide under the loose floorboards in her kitchen. To keep it safe for Mommy.”
My heart stopped.
Gabriel looked at Vanessa. “You found out about the money.”
Vanessa spat on the grass. “Of course I did! I heard Nicholas arguing with Daniel about the payoff before he died. I knew the money had to be somewhere on this property! When Margaret refused to leave that damn cottage, I knew she had to be hiding it!”
“You were going to steal a dead man’s money?” Rosa asked, disgusted.
“It’s drug money!” Vanessa yelled defensively.
“It’s blood money,” Gabriel corrected her coldly.
He turned back to the lockbox and pulled out the final item resting at the bottom.
It wasn't money.
It was a small, velvet jewelry box.
Gabriel opened it. Inside sat a stunning, antique diamond engagement ring.
Rosa gasped. “My grandmother’s ring.”
Gabriel looked at the ring, then at his brother. “This went missing from the family vault five years ago. You said the staff must have stolen it.”
Nicholas looked at the ground, ashamed. “I gave it to Daniel as collateral... until I could get the fifty thousand in cash.”
Gabriel closed the box with a sharp snap.
“So Daniel had the watch, the ring, and the logbook,” Gabriel said, piecing it together. “He had all the leverage. Which means you had every reason to silence him, Nicholas.”
“I didn't do it!” Nicholas screamed, terrified.
“Then who did?” Gabriel roared.
“I did.”
The voice came from the terrace.
We all turned.
May you like
Standing in the floodlights, leaning heavily on a wooden cane, was Margaret Whitaker.
And she was pointing a silver revolver directly at me.
