Chapter 10 - THE WOMAN WHO CALLED HERSELF LYDIA'S FRIEND
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The woman arrived during lunch rush.
Nell saw her from the kitchen.
Sixty, perhaps sixty-five.
Silver hair cut neatly at her jaw.
Cream linen suit.
Pearl earrings.
Nothing about her appeared dangerous.
That made Nell distrust her immediately.
Dangerous people rarely wore signs.
Conrad Bellarose had donated to churches.
Her mother had hidden evidence beneath cemetery bricks.
Carmine smiled while explaining things that frightened other men.
Appearances had stopped meaning much.
The woman waited until the line disappeared.
Then she ordered black coffee.
No sugar.
One slice of pecan pie.
She ate exactly three bites.
Then said to the server, “Tell Nell that Lydia always used orange zest in the Christmas batch.”
The server found Nell thirty seconds later.
Nell came out carrying a kitchen towel.
The woman looked at her.
Her eyes filled instantly.
“Nellie.”
Nell froze.
Only Emmett called her that.
“Who are you?”
The woman stood.
“My name is Evelyn Marchand.”
Nell did not move.
“You knew my mother.”
“I did.”
“How?”
Evelyn looked around the bakery.
“Can we speak privately?”
“No.”
Evelyn almost smiled.
“You sound like Lydia.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
The woman sat again.
“We worked together.”
“At the bakery?”
“At first.”
Nell pulled out the chair across from her.
“You left the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Why not the letter?”
“Because I didn’t have it.”
“You knew about the clock.”
“Yes.”
“Then you knew my mother hid evidence.”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Some.”
“How much?”
“Enough to be afraid for twenty years.”
Nell leaned back.
“If you were her friend, where were you?”
The question landed hard.
Good.
Nell wanted it to.
Evelyn looked at her coffee.
“Hiding.”
“That is convenient.”
“Yes.”
“My father lost everything.”
“I know.”
“My mother died.”
“I know.”
“I spent years believing she abandoned us.”
“I know.”
Nell’s voice sharpened.
“And you were hiding.”
Evelyn looked up.
“Yes.”
No defense.
No excuses.
Only yes.
That stopped Nell more effectively than an argument.
Evelyn folded her hands.
“I was not brave like Lydia.”
Nell’s jaw tightened.
“Do not make her into a saint.”
“I’m not.”
“She left her husband and daughter.”
“To protect you.”
“You don’t get to tell me what that cost.”
“No.”
Evelyn accepted that too.
“You’re right.”
Nell hated her slightly less for it.
The bakery door opened.
Carmine entered.
He saw Nell.
Then Evelyn.
Then the untouched coffee.
His attention sharpened.
“Nell.”
She gestured toward the chair.
“Apparently my mother had friends.”
Evelyn looked at Carmine.
“Carmine Orsini.”
“You know me.”
“Everyone in my generation knows an Orsini.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Evelyn smiled faintly.
“And everyone in your family asks questions the same way.”
Carmine sat beside Nell.
“What did you do for Lydia?”
Evelyn’s expression changed.
“I kept books.”
“Accounting?”
“For Bellarose.”
Silence.
Nell stared.
“You worked for him.”
“For eight years.”
“And my mother?”
“Was recruited by me.”
Nell stood.
The chair scraped backward.
Carmine did not touch her.
Evelyn did not flinch.
“You recruited my mother to spy on Bellarose?”
“Yes.”
“How old was I?”
“Seven when I first approached her.”
Nell laughed once in disbelief.
“You decided a woman with a child should infiltrate a criminal operation?”
“No.”
Evelyn’s voice softened.
“I approached Emmett first.”
That stopped everyone.
“My father?”
“He refused.”
“Why?”
“He said he would rather lose the bakery than put Lydia in danger.”
Nell swallowed.
“Then why did she do it?”
“She overheard us.”
Evelyn looked toward the bakery kitchen.
“She told me men always assumed wives did not understand business conversations.”
A sad smile.
“She said she intended to make that assumption useful.”
Nell sat again.
“What were you investigating?”
“Not the bakery.”
Carmine spoke.
“The river tunnel.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Smuggling at first. Then bribery. Then forged property transfers.”
“Who were you working for?” Carmine asked.
Evelyn took a breath.
“The federal government.”
Benny, who had entered silently through the side door, stopped.
“You were federal?”
“Contract forensic accountant.”
“Not an agent.”
“No.”
“Protected witness?”
“Eventually.”
Nell stared.
“Why didn't you testify?”
“I did.”
“Then why wasn’t Bellarose arrested?”
“Because our case collapsed.”
“How?”
Evelyn looked at Carmine.
“Someone inside the investigation was feeding Bellarose information.”
Carmine’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?”
“We never proved it.”
“But you suspected someone.”
“Yes.”
“Name.”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Vincent Orsini.”
The room changed.
Benny swore quietly.
Nell looked at Carmine.
He had gone perfectly still.
“Who is Vincent?”
Carmine answered without looking at her.
“My uncle.”
Nell’s stomach dropped.
Carmine’s father’s younger brother.
Vincent Orsini had disappeared from New Orleans sixteen years earlier.
The official family explanation was simple.
Gambling debts.
A disagreement with Anthony Orsini.
Self-imposed exile.
Apparently nothing in this family was simple.
Evelyn continued.
“Vincent worked with Bellarose.”
Carmine’s voice was low.
“Proof?”
“Not enough.”
“Then don’t say it as fact.”
“I saw him meet Conrad seven times.”
“Meetings are not proof.”
“He gave Bellarose a copy of a federal shipping inquiry.”
Carmine’s jaw tightened.
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t my father kill him?”
Nell looked sharply at Carmine.
Evelyn did not seem surprised.
“Anthony never knew.”
“Why?”
“Because Lydia begged me not to tell him.”
Carmine looked at her.
“Why would Lydia protect Vincent?”
“She wasn’t protecting Vincent.”
Evelyn turned toward Nell.
“She was protecting you.”
Nell frowned.
“How?”
Evelyn reached into her handbag.
Benny moved instantly.
She stopped.
“It’s paper.”
Benny nodded.
“Slowly.”
Evelyn removed an old photograph.
She placed it on the table.
Nell looked down.
Her mother stood beside Vincent Orsini.
A young Carmine appeared in the background.
Perhaps fifteen.
Beside him stood Anthony Orsini.
The photograph had been taken at a summer street festival.
Nothing remarkable.
Until Nell saw Vincent’s hand.
He was holding the wrist of a little girl.
Her.
Nell stared.
“I don’t remember this.”
“You were eight,” Evelyn said.
“Why was I with Vincent?”
“Because for approximately six months, Vincent convinced your father he could help save the bakery.”
Carmine looked at Evelyn.
“And?”
“He used Nell to pressure Lydia.”
Nell went cold.
“How?”
“He threatened to tell Bellarose Lydia was collecting evidence unless she gave him the tapes.”
“She didn’t.”
“No.”
“What did she give him?”
“One tape.”
Benny said, “There were seven.”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“Number three.”
Nell thought of the metal box.
All seven had been inside.
“Then she made a copy.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Lydia was very good.”
Carmine’s expression remained hard.
“Where is Vincent now?”
Evelyn looked directly at him.
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
She lowered her voice.
“He came back to Louisiana two months ago.”
Benny immediately reached for his phone.
Carmine stopped him.
“Wait.”
He looked at Evelyn.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
She hesitated.
Then said, “Because Bellarose’s arrest changed the balance.”
“What balance?”
“The old arrangement.”
Nell looked between them.
“What arrangement?”
Evelyn’s face showed something that looked almost like pity.
“When Bellarose survived Lydia’s evidence, he did not survive alone.”
She turned toward Carmine.
“Your uncle helped build the network Conrad used for twenty years.”
Silence.
“And if Bellarose falls,” she continued, “Vincent has every reason to make sure the evidence falls with him.”
Carmine stood.
“I need an address.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I don’t have one.”
“Phone?”
“No.”
“Contact?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know he came back?”
Evelyn looked toward Nell.
“Because he contacted me.”
Nell felt the answer before hearing it.
“What did he want?”
Evelyn’s voice became quiet.
“He asked whether Lydia’s daughter had found the tapes.”
At that exact moment, a crash came from the kitchen.
Glass broke.
Everyone turned.
A teenage dishwasher stood frozen near the rear door.
“I’m sorry.”
Benny moved first.
He looked outside.
No one.
Then he noticed something attached beneath the door handle.
A small black device.
Carmine crossed the room.
Benny stopped him.
“Don’t.”
He crouched.
Not a bomb.
A microphone.
Listening device.
Recently installed.
Carmine stared at it.
Evelyn went pale.
Nell looked toward the kitchen cameras.
Someone had been inside again.
Not Bellarose.
Bellarose was being watched around the clock by investigators.
May you like
Vincent Orsini had returned.
And he already knew exactly where Nell spent every morning.
