Chapter 4 - THE FADED TICKET
Ruth gasped, clutching the back of her chair as if she had been physically struck.
“No!” Ruth cried out. “David was a good man! He never hurt anyone outside of the uniform!”
The wealthy guests began to whisper frantically. Carmine’s security guards discreetly locked the dining room doors. Nobody was leaving.
“Five hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money, Frank,” Carmine said, closing the leather ledger with a heavy thud. “My father was blown to pieces on a Tuesday. The day before, his bagman’s ledger shows a massive payout to a disgruntled veteran who knew all his secrets. You do the math.”
“Your math is wrong,” I said, stepping closer to the table. “David didn't kill your father.”
“Then why did he get the money?” Vanessa demanded, seizing the opportunity to shift the blame. “He blackmailed Dominic! He took the money and killed him anyway!”
“David didn't take a dime of that money,” I said.
I reached into the wooden crate Ruth had opened. I dug past the old letters and military patches until my fingers found a small, yellowed envelope.
I pulled it out and handed it to Carmine.
“Open it,” I said.
Carmine ripped the envelope open. A faded, punched train ticket fell into his palm.
“An Amtrak ticket,” Carmine read. “From Chicago to New York. Dated October 14, 2011.”
“The exact day your father was killed,” I confirmed. “Look at the passenger name.”
Carmine squinted at the faded ink. “Arthur Laurent.”
Vanessa froze. “My father was in Europe that month. He was on a business trip.”
“He wasn't in Europe, Vanessa,” I said. “He was running for his life. Dominic found out Arthur had been skimming off the top of the smuggling operations for years. Dominic put a hit out on him.”
Carmine looked at the ticket, then at the ledger.
“David didn't blackmail your father,” I explained, my voice echoing in the silent room. “Arthur came to David begging for help. Arthur knew Dominic was going to kill him. Arthur offered David the five hundred thousand to protect him, to get him out of the city.”
“And David took it?” Carmine asked.
“David refused the money,” Ruth said, her voice regaining its strength. “But he still bought Arthur that train ticket. He put Arthur on a train to New York to save his life. Because David couldn't stand by and watch a man die, even a coward.”
Carmine stared at the faded ticket. The narrative of his father’s death was unraveling before his eyes.
“If Arthur fled to New York on the 14th,” Carmine said slowly, his mind connecting the pieces, “and my father was killed later that same night...”
“Arthur didn't run to save himself,” I said softly.
I pointed to the silver Zippo lighter on the table.
“Arthur set the bomb, Carmine,” I said. “He killed your father to wipe out the debt, and then he used the ticket David bought him to escape.”
Vanessa screamed. “Liar! My father is a good man! You’re framing him!”
Carmine turned to Vanessa, his face a mask of cold fury. “Where is your father right now, Vanessa?”
“He’s at home!” she cried. “He’s sick, he couldn't come tonight!”
“Call him,” Carmine ordered.
Vanessa fumbled for her diamond-encrusted phone. She dialed, her hands shaking violently. She put it on speaker.
It rang three times. Then, a voice answered.
But it wasn't Arthur.
“Hello?” a small, frightened child’s voice echoed through the speaker.
May you like
Vanessa’s face went chalk white. “Leo? Honey, why do you have Grandpa’s phone?”
“Mommy,” the six-year-old boy whispered, his voice trembling. “Grandpa is packing a big suitcase. He said we have to leave right now. He said the bad men are coming.”
