Chapter 4 - The Waitress at the Head of the Table
Three days later, Adelaide Callahan walked into the Rosetti organization's emergency council meeting wearing her diner uniform.
Every man at the table stared.
Bee stared back.
“Problem?”
No one answered.
Maxim sat at the head of the table in his Manhattan townhouse.
“Sit beside me.”
That caused more staring.
Bee remained standing.
“I don't work for you.”
“You accepted five thousand dollars.”
“For one lunch.”
“Then consider this dessert.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
Victor Dane did not.
The attorney leaned back.
“This is ridiculous.”
Bee pointed at him.
“He's nervous.”
Dane laughed.
“I'm offended.”
“No. When you're offended, your left eyebrow moves. When you're nervous, you rub your thumb against your cuff link.”
The room went silent.
Dane stopped touching his cuff.
Maxim's mouth twitched.
“Continue, Adelaide.”
She hated when he used her full name because she was beginning to like how it sounded in his voice.
That seemed dangerous enough without adding organized crime.
They had spent two nights decoding Patrick's papers.
The truth was emerging.
Patrick Callahan had not merely repaired cars.
Years earlier, he had maintained vehicles for Rosetti Logistics. Maxim's father, Alessandro Rosetti, had discovered that someone inside his organization was laundering stolen pension money through legitimate companies.
Patrick had found altered vehicle manifests.
Instead of destroying them, he copied everything.
Then both men died within eighteen months.
Alessandro from an apparent heart attack.
Patrick in an apparent drunk-driving collision.
Bee placed copies of the documents on the table.
“My father believed somebody was stealing from yours.”
One older captain scoffed.
“Your father was a mechanic.”
“Yes.”
“And you serve pancakes.”
“Yes.”
His lip curled.
“So why are we listening to you?”
Bee smiled.
“Because the accountant you listened to disappeared, Ferraro got murdered inside your own building, and Pancake Girl is apparently the only person in Manhattan who noticed your attorney has been lying for three days.”
Maxim coughed into his hand.
She looked at him.
“Are you laughing?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“Continue.”
Bee walked around the table.
“Someone has been moving money through seven companies for at least twelve years. Whoever it is knows Maxim's schedules, security rotations and contracts.”
Dane folded his hands.
“And your evidence?”
Bee dropped a photocopy before him.
“Your signature.”
Dane stared down.
Then smiled.
“Forgery.”
“Probably.”
His smile disappeared.
Bee continued.
“That's why you're not the thief.”
Maxim looked sharply at her.
Dane blinked.
Bee turned toward Anthony Russo.
Broken Nose.
The man who had pulled the gun on her in the diner.
“You.”
Russo stood.
Three weapons appeared instantly.
Bee's heart hammered.
But she did not step backward.
“You bumped me deliberately that night.”
Russo said nothing.
“You wanted the coffee to spill.”
Maxim's face darkened.
“Why?”
Russo's gaze moved around the room.
Then landed on Bee.
“I needed to know what kind of man he'd become.”
Maxim rose.
“What does that mean?”
Russo slowly removed his pistol and placed it on the table.
“I promised your father I'd protect you.”
Maxim froze.
Russo reached inside his coat again.
This time he withdrew an old cassette recorder.
“Alessandro knew he was dying.”
Maxim stared at it.
“Play it.”
The recording crackled.
Then came a dead man's voice.
Alessandro Rosetti.
“If you're hearing this, Maxim, then I failed.”
Maxim closed his eyes.
Bee watched something break behind his face.
The recording continued.
“The enemy is not outside our family. He sits close enough to watch you sleep. Patrick Callahan has the ledger. Protect him. Protect his daughter.”
Bee stopped breathing.
Then another voice entered the recording.
Her father's.
“If anything happens to me, Bee will eventually find what I hid.”
Her knees weakened.
Maxim reached for her.
She let him.
Patrick's voice continued.
“My daughter notices everything.”
Bee covered her mouth.
Eight years.
Eight years since she had heard him.
Maxim's hand closed around hers beneath the table.
Nobody commented.
The recording ended with one final sentence from Alessandro.
“Do not trust my brother.”
Maxim looked up.
His uncle.
Carlo Rosetti.
The man who had helped raise him after Alessandro's death.
The man currently controlling Rosetti's European accounts.
The man who had called Maxim that morning and asked whether there was anything he could do to help.
Bee whispered, “There's your thief.”
Maxim did not answer.
His phone rang.
Carlo.
Everyone stared.
Maxim answered on speaker.
“Uncle.”
Carlo's warm voice filled the room.
“Maxim. I heard you've been asking questions.”
Maxim's expression hardened.
“Have I?”
Carlo chuckled.
May you like
Then he said something that drained every drop of blood from Bee's face.
“Put Patrick Callahan's daughter on the phone.”
