Chapter 3 - THE MAN SALVATORE FEARED
Victor Rizzo entered the bedroom as though it belonged to him.
He was sixty-three, elegantly dressed, with silver hair brushed neatly away from his forehead and the calm smile of a man who had spent decades learning how to frighten people without raising his voice.
“Dominic.”
His eyes shifted toward Norah.
Then the communication board.
“What’s going on?”
Dominic stepped casually in front of it.
“Physical therapy.”
Victor smiled.
“With alphabet letters?”
“My father is trying to communicate.”
For the smallest fraction of a second, something moved behind Victor’s eyes.
Then it vanished.
“That’s wonderful.”
He approached Salvatore.
“About time you started talking again, old friend.”
Salvatore recoiled.
Norah noticed.
So did Dominic.
Victor did not.
Or pretended not to.
He placed a hand on Salvatore’s shoulder.
The heart monitor beside the bed increased immediately.
Eighty-seven.
Ninety-four.
One hundred and three.
Norah stepped forward.
“Please don’t touch him.”
Victor looked at her.
Norah forced herself not to react.
“His heart rate is increasing.”
Victor removed his hand.
“Of course.”
His smile returned.
“You must be the famous nurse.”
“Famous?”
“Salvatore has kept you longer than the others.”
Norah glanced at Dominic.
Victor chuckled.
“That’s practically affection.”
He lifted his whiskey.
“Well, I’ll leave the patient to recover.”
At the doorway, he paused.
“Dominic, we still need to discuss tomorrow’s meeting.”
“I’ll find you.”
Victor nodded.
Then looked back at Norah.
“Be careful trying to understand broken men, Miss Gallagher.”
His voice softened.
“Sometimes we hear what we want to hear.”
He left.
Nobody spoke until his footsteps disappeared.
Frank closed the door.
Dominic locked it.
Norah stared at him.
“Your godfather scares your father.”
“Apparently.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Norah crossed her arms.
“Try again.”
Dominic looked irritated.
“This isn’t a hospital, Miss Gallagher.”
“And I’m not one of your employees who carries a gun.”
“You are absolutely one of my employees.”
“Then fire me.”
Something almost resembling amusement touched his face.
It vanished.
“Victor has been part of this family since before I was born.”
“Meaning?”
“He was my father’s closest friend.”
“Was?”
Dominic looked at Salvatore.
The old man stared back.
“Now I’m not sure.”
Norah raised the communication board.
“Then ask him.”
The next hour changed everything.
Communication remained slow.
Painfully slow.
But Salvatore was determined.
Norah identified letters while Dominic wrote them down.
VICTOR MEDICINE.
Dominic frowned.
“The medication?”
Yes.
“Victor changed your medicine?”
Yes.
Norah immediately opened Salvatore’s medication drawer.
There were seven bottles.
Blood pressure drugs.
Anticoagulants.
A statin.
Pain medication.
Sleep medication.
Norah examined the labels.
Nothing appeared obviously wrong.
“Who fills these?”
“The family doctor.”
“Who handles them before I arrive?”
Frank answered.
“Usually the house manager.”
“Which one?”
Frank hesitated.
“Victor sometimes handles his nighttime medication.”
Norah’s head snapped up.
“Why?”
“He’s family.”
“No,” she said sharply. “He isn’t medical staff.”
Dominic’s jaw hardened.
“When did this start?”
“After the stroke.”
Norah picked up the sleep medication.
The prescribed dose was five milligrams.
She opened Salvatore’s medication log.
Several entries had been handwritten.
Ten milligrams.
Fifteen.
Sometimes combined with another sedative.
“This is wrong.”
Dominic moved beside her.
“How wrong?”
“For an eighty-year-old stroke patient? Potentially dangerously wrong.”
Frank cursed quietly.
Norah looked through earlier logs.
“Who signed these initials?”
Frank examined them.
“VR.”
Dominic’s face became terrifyingly calm.
Victor Rizzo.
Norah looked at Salvatore.
“Has Victor been intentionally overmedicating you?”
Yes.
“Why?”
Salvatore’s answer took nearly twenty minutes.
WILL.
Dominic stiffened.
“My father’s will?”
Yes.
Norah continued.
CHANGE.
“He wanted to change the will?”
No.
Dominic understood first.
“You wanted to change it.”
Yes.
“Victor stopped you?”
Yes.
Dominic walked to the window.
Rain ran down the glass.
“Why would Victor care about the will?”
Salvatore became frustrated.
His hand shook against the wheelchair.
Norah touched his wrist.
“Slow down.”
The old man’s eye met hers.
For the first time, something passed between them that had nothing to do with fear.
Trust.
They continued.
COMPANY.
Victor.
Money.
Accounts.
Dominic’s attention sharpened.
“What accounts?”
Salvatore struggled.
Norah tried categories.
“Bank accounts?”
No.
“Business accounts?”
Yes.
“Illegal?”
Salvatore gave her a look.
Norah sighed.
“Right. Stupid question.”
Frank coughed to hide a laugh.
Dominic almost smiled.
Salvatore spelled another word.
STEALING.
Dominic became motionless.
“Victor is stealing from us?”
Yes.
“How much?”
Salvatore could not answer.
Instead he spelled:
BOOK.
“Which book?”
RED.
Frank suddenly looked toward the fireplace.
Dominic noticed.
“What?”
Frank swallowed.
“When I was a kid, people talked about a red ledger.”
Dominic stared at him.
“What red ledger?”
“Your father supposedly kept one. Everything important. Payments. Debts. Names. Things too dangerous for computers.”
Dominic turned toward Salvatore.
“Does it exist?”
Yes.
“Where?”
Salvatore closed his eye.
For several seconds he seemed exhausted.
Norah checked his pulse.
“We stop.”
Dominic looked at her.
“We need the location.”
“He needs rest.”
“That book could explain why someone is drugging him.”
“And killing him faster won’t help you find it.”
Dominic stared at her.
Frank quietly stepped toward the door.
“I’ll… check the hallway.”
He left.
Dominic lowered his voice.
“You challenge everyone this easily?”
“Only difficult men.”
“And how many difficult men have you met?”
“I worked emergency medicine in the Bronx for two years.”
That earned an actual smile.
Brief.
Unexpected.
It changed his entire face.
Norah hated that she noticed.
He looked less dangerous when he smiled.
Which probably made him more dangerous.
Dominic leaned against the dresser.
“Why hospice?”
The question surprised her.
“My mother.”
His expression softened.
Norah continued.
“Cancer. I was nineteen. She spent her last three weeks in a hospital where everyone talked about her like she wasn’t in the room.”
Dominic remained silent.
“I became a nurse because one nurse didn’t. She sat beside my mother and asked what music she wanted. Not what her pain score was. What music.”
“What did she choose?”
“Fleetwood Mac.”
Dominic smiled faintly.
“Good choice.”
Norah looked toward Salvatore.
“He’s still a person, Dominic.”
Dominic’s face closed again.
“You didn’t know him before.”
“No.”
“He broke people.”
“Maybe.”
“He broke me.”
There it was.
Not hatred.
A wound.
Before Norah could answer, Salvatore struck the wheelchair arm.
They turned.
He wanted the board.
Norah lifted it.
The old man began spelling.
S.
O.
R.
R.
Y.
Dominic stared.
Norah lowered the paper.
Salvatore looked at his son.
“S…s…”
His damaged mouth struggled around the sound.
Dominic stepped backward.
“No.”
Salvatore reached toward him.
Dominic’s voice became rough.
“No. You don’t get to do that now.”
Salvatore’s hand fell.
Dominic turned and left.
Norah followed him into the corridor.
“Dominic.”
He kept walking.
“He meant it.”
Dominic stopped.
“You’ve known him fourteen days.”
“And you’ve waited your whole life to hear it.”
His shoulders stiffened.
Norah immediately realized she had gone too far.
Then Dominic turned.
The anger in his face was real.
So was the pain.
“You know nothing about my whole life.”
He walked away.
Norah stood beneath the dim hallway light.
Behind her, Salvatore made a low sound.
When she returned, he pointed toward the communication board.
One final message.
Norah read the letters slowly.
D.
O.
M.
I.
N.
I.
C.
D.
A.
N.
G.
E.
R.
She felt cold.
“Dominic is in danger?”
Yes.
“From Victor?”
Yes.
Salvatore gripped her wrist.
Then spelled two final words.
May you like
TOMORROW.
MEETING.
