Chapter 7 - THE TRAP IN THE OLD BAKERY
For six days, nothing happened.
That was how Carmine knew the trap was working.
No calls.
No threats.
No unfamiliar cars near Saint Agnes.
Caleb March had gone quiet.
Quiet men were either retreating or preparing.
Caleb March did not retreat.
So Carmine waited.
Nell hated waiting.
She spent most mornings with her father and most afternoons in Palmira's kitchen.
Not as staff.
She had refused Carmine's offer to return to work.
Instead, Palmira simply told everyone that Nell was now “using the kitchen.”
Nobody challenged Palmira.
Chef Reynolds, his hand almost healed, tasted Nell's cornbread on Tuesday and told her she had no business cleaning bedrooms.
Nell replied, “I figured that out.”
By Thursday, Carmine began finding reasons to walk through the kitchen.
Benny noticed.
Carmine noticed Benny noticing.
Benny wisely said nothing.
On Friday night, Nell was rolling pie dough when Carmine entered.
He leaned against the doorway.
“You're staring.”
She didn't look up.
“I'm thinking.”
“You've been thinking for four minutes.”
“You count?”
“You've taught me bad habits.”
She almost smiled.
Flour dusted one cheek.
Carmine had negotiated shipping contracts while guns sat on conference tables.
He had faced men who wanted him dead.
None of those situations made him as strangely uncertain as the sight of Nell Brisco with flour on her face.
He walked closer.
“You missed some.”
“Some what?”
He gestured to his own cheek.
She wiped the wrong side.
“Other one.”
She wiped again.
Still missed it.
Carmine reached up.
Then stopped.
His fingers were inches from her skin.
Nell looked at him.
Neither moved.
Carmine lowered his hand.
“You can get it later.”
Nell turned back to the dough.
“Terrifying man.”
“I've been called worse.”
“I believe that.”
His phone rang.
Benny.
The moment disappeared.
Carmine answered.
“Yes?”
“They moved.”
Carmine straightened.
“Where?”
“Old bakery site.”
Nell stopped rolling.
Benny continued.
“Two March vehicles entered the hotel service garage fifteen minutes ago. Caleb isn't there, but his operations guy is.”
“Darren Pike?”
“Yes.”
Carmine looked at Nell.
She understood.
“They're looking for the ledger.”
Carmine nodded.
The false information had worked.
Through one of March's paid contacts, Benny had allowed a rumor to spread that Emmett's original ledger remained hidden somewhere beneath the old bakery foundation.
Caleb believed it.
Now his men were digging.
“Call Detective Landry,” Nell said.
Carmine had chosen Mara Landry carefully.
A state investigator with no professional connection to New Orleans city politics and no family connection to either the Orsinis or Marches.
She had reviewed copies of the ledger, Kessler's photograph and Warren Pruitt's recorded statement.
She had also told Carmine something he disliked hearing.
“If you touch Caleb March, I walk.”
Carmine had replied, “Define touch.”
Landry had not laughed.
Now Carmine called her.
Twenty minutes later, state investigators were positioned near the hotel.
Carmine and Nell watched remotely from a small office above one of his restaurants.
Camera feeds came from two sources.
One belonged to hotel security.
The other came from a temporary maintenance camera Benny's technician had legally installed on adjacent Orsini property overlooking the courtyard.
Darren Pike appeared at 11:18 p.m.
He carried tools.
Three men lifted stone.
Another rolled back landscaping fabric.
They knew almost exactly where to dig.
Nell whispered, “How?”
Carmine's eyes narrowed.
“Someone told them.”
“But only five people know the location.”
Carmine counted.
Himself.
Nell.
Benny.
Palmira.
Detective Landry.
And—
Odette.
Nell reached the same conclusion.
“No.”
Carmine looked at her.
Nell shook her head.
“She gave us the flash drive.”
“She could still be afraid.”
“She could also still be working for Caleb.”
Neither possibility felt good.
Onscreen, Pike climbed into the service cavity.
Minutes passed.
Then he emerged carrying something.
A metal box.
Nell frowned.
“That isn't ours.”
Carmine leaned closer.
“What the hell?”
Pike opened the box.
Inside were papers.
He photographed them.
Then called someone.
The camera had no audio.
But Benny had a man across the street using directional recording equipment.
Seconds later, the audio came through.
Pike said, “We found Salvatore's package.”
Carmine and Nell looked at each other.
Pike listened.
“No. Not Fontaine's book. Something else.”
He lifted one document.
“It's about the Orsini deal.”
Carmine's expression hardened.
“What deal?”
Pike listened again.
Then smiled.
“Yeah. This could bury Carmine.”
The line ended.
Nell turned to him.
“What did your father hide?”
“I don't know.”
Carmine called Landry.
“Move.”
But before investigators entered the courtyard, all lights went out.
The camera feed died.
Benny cursed.
Thirty seconds.
Forty.
Then the feed returned.
Pike was gone.
So were the papers.
Landry's team found the service gate open.
One abandoned tool bag.
No March employees.
The operation had somehow been compromised.
Carmine stood.
“Who knew Landry was moving tonight?”
Benny answered.
“Us. Landry's team.”
“And Odette?”
“No.”
Nell looked at Carmine.
“Then it wasn't Odette.”
Carmine's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Caleb March laughed.
“You really thought state police were cleaner than city police?”
Carmine's eyes went cold.
“You have someone on Landry's team.”
“I have someone everywhere.”
“Not everywhere.”
“No?”
Caleb's voice lowered.
“Ask your grandmother what Salvatore really promised my father.”
The call ended.
Nell looked at Carmine.
“What did he say?”
Carmine did not answer immediately.
Then the office door opened.
Palmira walked inside.
Benny had called her earlier.
She looked at their faces.
“What happened?”
Carmine stared at his grandmother.
“Caleb found another box beneath the bakery.”
Palmira froze.
That told him enough.
“You knew it was there.”
Palmira's lips pressed together.
“Grandmother.”
She sat.
“Salvatore made me swear never to tell you.”
“He's dead.”
“I noticed.”
“What was in the box?”
Palmira looked at Nell.
Then back at Carmine.
“Proof of an agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“Your father signed ownership of three river warehouses to Edwin March.”
Carmine frowned.
“He never owned them.”
“Not publicly.”
“Why would he give March warehouses?”
Palmira's eyes filled with something Carmine rarely saw.
Shame.
“Because those warehouses were being used to move stolen pharmaceuticals through the port.”
Carmine's jaw tightened.
“By March?”
“Yes.”
“Then why were they in Father's name?”
“Because Salvatore allowed it.”
Silence.
Nell looked from Palmira to Carmine.
Palmira continued.
“Years before the bakery fire, your father and Edwin March were partners.”
Carmine felt the world beneath him shift.
“In what?”
“Smuggling.”
Carmine said nothing.
Palmira's voice dropped.
“Salvatore tried to leave the arrangement after a truck carrying counterfeit medication reached a children's clinic.”
Nell's face changed.
“People were hurt?”
“Two children died.”
The room went completely still.
“Salvatore ended the operation that week.”
Palmira looked at Carmine.
“But Edwin kept records proving your father had helped build it.”
Carmine understood now.
The property transfer.
The silence.
The fear.
March had not merely threatened Salvatore's family.
He had threatened to expose Salvatore himself.
Nell looked at Carmine.
He expected accusation.
Instead, she said quietly, “You didn't know.”
“No.”
“That doesn't make it yours.”
“It has my name.”
“Your father's name.”
Carmine looked away.
For years he had spent enormous effort separating himself from Salvatore's worst decisions.
Now the dead had reached forward again.
Nell stepped closer.
“Carmine.”
He looked at her.
“You told me people reveal themselves when you listen long enough.”
He remembered saying something similar once.
She continued.
“So listen.”
“To what?”
“To me.”
She held his gaze.
“You are not responsible for what your father did before you knew.”
Carmine's jaw tightened.
“But you are responsible for what you do now.”
Something inside him shifted.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Maybe direction.
Benny's phone rang.
He answered.
Then looked at Nell.
“Saint Agnes.”
Her face drained.
“What?”
“Your father's gone.”
Nell stopped breathing.
Benny continued.
“Someone checked him out twenty minutes ago.”
“Who?”
May you like
Benny looked at Carmine.
“Odette Pruitt.”
