Chapter 3 - WHAT MARIA CARRIED
Antonio offered me a ride home. I refused twice. He accepted the second refusal and had a car wait across the street until I got inside my building.
In the morning, I found a handwritten note under my door.
Tell Russo to ask his mother about the envelope.
No signature. No explanation.
I called the hospital. The receptionist wouldn’t connect me to Maria, so I left my name. Ten minutes later, Maria called from her room.
“You sound tired, dear.”
“Someone left a note at my apartment.”
When I read it aloud, she went silent.
“Maria?”
“There was an envelope in my purse,” she said. “Did you see anyone take it?”
“I barely looked in your purse.”
“It was addressed to Antonio.”
“What was in it?”
She lowered her voice. “Something I should have given him years ago.”
A man spoke in the background. Antonio. Maria told him she’d call me back and hung up.
I stared at the note. Whoever had left it knew where I lived. I packed a bag and went to my friend Lena’s apartment in Sunset Park. Lena had been my lab partner in nursing school. She let me in without asking for the story first.
Once I’d told her, she said, “You need to give that note to the police.”
“I will.”
I took a picture, then put the original in a clean envelope. On my way to the precinct, I stopped at Bellarosa for my final paycheck. Marco came to the locked front door and spoke through the glass.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I need my check.”
“It’s being mailed.”
“Then tell me why the cameras were off.”
His face changed. Only for a second, but I saw it.
“Ask the owner,” he said.
“Mr. Bellini?”
Marco glanced toward the back of the restaurant. “Go home, Sophie.”
A dark sedan rolled slowly past the curb. I stepped away from the door.
At the precinct, a detective named Park took the note and my statement. She asked careful questions about Maria’s medication, the envelope, and everyone who’d approached Table Seven. I could answer most of them. I couldn’t explain why I’d been pulled into any of it.
That evening, Maria called again.
“I remembered something,” she said. “The envelope was still in my purse when you brought the bread.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. After you left, someone came to refill my water.”
“Who?”
“I thought it was a waiter.” Her voice caught. “But he wasn’t wearing Bellarosa’s uniform.”
The call cut off.
A moment later, a photograph arrived from an unknown number. It showed me entering Lena’s building that afternoon.
May you like
Beneath it was one sentence.
Maria forgot to tell you what was in the envelope.
