Chapter 4 - WALTER’S LAST FAVOR.
Walter Russo was not dying.
Not yet.
The doctor used words like cardiac event, arrhythmia, observation, stress.
Anthony heard only one fact.
Walter was conscious.
He stood outside the private hospital room while two guards watched the corridor.
Grace sat nearby.
Emma had been taken back to the Moretti house with Eleanor, who refused to let the child return to the jewelry shop alone after midnight.
Emma had protested.
Eleanor had bribed her with access to the Moretti family jewelry archive.
The protest ended immediately.
Anthony looked at Grace.
“You don’t have to go in.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
“Because he asked for me.”
“That is not a reason.”
Grace looked at him.
“Maybe not in your world.”
“In my world, it is exactly not a reason.”
She almost smiled.
Then did not.
“My father hid something from him.”
Anthony nodded.
“And Walter thinks I know where it is.”
“You might.”
Grace crossed her arms.
“That sounded accusatory.”
“It was factual.”
“You’re difficult.”
“I’ve been told.”
The room opened.
A nurse stepped out.
“He’ll see you now.”
Walter lay beneath white sheets.
No suit.
No lion ring.
No audience.
He looked seventy-two for the first time.
Anthony entered with Grace.
Walter smiled faintly.
“Always with company.”
Grace remained near the door.
“What belongs to you?”
Walter looked at Anthony.
“Direct. Nathan raised you.”
“No. He raised Emma.”
“That child is him.”
Grace’s expression hardened.
“Do not talk about my daughter.”
Walter looked back at the ceiling.
“I liked Nathan.”
Anthony laughed once.
“You have strange ways of showing affection.”
Walter ignored him.
“I need the red stone.”
Grace froze.
Anthony caught it.
“What red stone?”
Grace looked toward him.
“I don’t know.”
Walter smiled.
Badly.
“You do.”
“No.”
“Nathan left it in the shop.”
Grace stepped closer.
“My father left many stones.”
“This one is ruby. Oval. Unset. About four carats.”
Anthony’s voice changed.
“Why does it matter?”
Walter looked at him.
“Because it opens what your father hid.”
Silence.
Anthony moved closer to the bed.
“Where?”
Walter looked at Grace.
“Red stone first.”
Anthony’s expression became cold.
“You are not negotiating from a hospital gown.”
Walter’s mouth twitched.
“I raised you better than that.”
“That may be the problem.”
Walter looked away.
Grace asked:
“Did you kill Salvatore Moretti?”
Anthony turned toward her.
Walter’s eyes closed.
Then opened.
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Anthony watched.
“Did you arrange his death?”
“No.”
“Did you know it would happen?”
Walter did not answer.
That was different.
Anthony leaned forward.
“Walter.”
“I knew someone was moving against him.”
“Who?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Walter laughed weakly.
“Because the answer still matters.”
“Twenty-six years later?”
“Especially now.”
Grace stared.
“You returned the pearls because you wanted Anthony to find the message.”
Walter’s face changed.
Anthony turned.
Grace continued.
“You knew Nathan altered them.”
“How?”
“My father would never hide one message in something and assume nobody found it for twenty-six years.”
Walter said nothing.
Grace stepped closer.
“You put the necklace in front of Emma.”
Anthony looked at her.
Of course.
Walter could have given Eleanor the pearls privately.
Instead he did it at a crowded birthday dinner with Nathan Bennett’s granddaughter present.
A girl who knew the clasp.
A girl who would notice.
Walter’s collapse suddenly felt less like panic.
More like a timer running out.
Anthony’s voice lowered.
“You wanted this opened.”
Walter closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Grace whispered:
“Why?”
Walter looked at Anthony.
“Because Carlo DeLuca found Harbor 6 records last week.”
Anthony’s expression changed.
Carlo DeLuca.
Boston developer.
Political donor.
Longtime Moretti ally.
More importantly:
Walter’s godson.
“What records?” Anthony asked.
“The ones Nathan thought he copied.”
Anthony stared.
“You let Nathan think you were the traitor.”
Walter smiled sadly.
“I was a traitor.”
“To my father?”
“To everyone.”
“That is not helpful.”
“It is honest.”
Walter breathed slowly.
“I took money from Harbor 6.”
Anthony’s face hardened.
Walter continued.
“I told myself I was tracking where it went.”
“Were you?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
Walter looked away.
“Later I liked having money Salvatore didn’t know about.”
Grace’s mouth tightened.
Walter’s voice weakened.
“But Harbor 6 became worse than money. Men were moving people. Workers came in under debt contracts. They vanished into jobs controlled by DeLuca crews.”
“Carlo DeLuca was involved twenty-six years ago?”
Walter nodded.
“He was twenty-eight. Hungry. Salvatore thought he was useful.”
Anthony remembered Carlo at his father’s funeral.
Young.
Crying.
He had remained connected to the family ever since.
Walter continued.
“Patrick Marino found out first.”
Leo’s father.
Anthony’s eyes narrowed.
“He was helping you?”
“No. He was investigating me.”
That changed everything.
The photograph of Walter and Patrick at Harbor 6 was not partnership.
It was surveillance.
Confrontation.
Nathan’s image had captured a moment without context.
Walter whispered:
“Patrick told Salvatore.”
Anthony felt something cold settle into place.
“And then my father confronted you.”
“Yes.”
“Seventy-two hours.”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
Walter looked at Grace.
“Red stone.”
Anthony almost lost patience.
Grace spoke first.
“We’ll find it.”
Walter closed his eyes.
“Good.”
“Now tell him.”
Walter breathed.
“The night Salvatore died, he was going to meet Carlo DeLuca.”
Anthony went still.
“Where?”
“Providence.”
The location of the car explosion.
“Why?”
“Carlo claimed he had proof Patrick Marino was running Harbor 6.”
Leo’s father framed.
Anthony felt his stomach tighten.
Walter continued.
“I knew it was false.”
“You let him go?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“I called Nathan.”
Grace stared.
Walter looked at her.
“I asked him to delay Salvatore. Nathan refused. Said he was a jeweler, not a gangster.”
That sounded like Nathan.
Walter almost smiled.
“Then he followed Salvatore anyway.”
Grace’s face drained.
“My father was there?”
“Near enough.”
Anthony turned.
“Nathan witnessed the explosion?”
Walter nodded.
“He saw another car leave.”
“Whose?”
“Carlo’s.”
Anthony’s pulse slowed.
“Why didn’t Nathan tell police?”
Walter laughed bitterly.
“Because the detective who arrived belonged to Carlo.”
Again.
Institutions.
Silence.
Fear.
Walter continued.
“Nathan gave me the pearls after the funeral. He said Salvatore had hidden something inside one of them before he left.”
“The seventh pearl.”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“A locker number.”
Anthony leaned forward.
“Where?”
“Old Harbor 6 customs building.”
“What locker?”
Walter looked at Grace.
“Red stone.”
Grace’s anger rose.
“My father is dead. Stop using his things like bargaining chips.”
Walter looked at her.
His eyes filled unexpectedly.
“Nathan did not die of cancer.”
Grace froze.
Anthony’s whole body went still.
Grace whispered:
“What?”
Walter swallowed.
“He had cancer.”
“Yes.”
“But that isn’t what killed him.”
Grace’s hand gripped the rail of the hospital bed.
Walter continued:
“Someone changed his medication.”
Silence.
The kind that makes a room feel vacuum-sealed.
Grace shook her head.
“No.”
“Three days before Nathan died, he called me.”
“No.”
“He said Carlo had come to the shop.”
Grace stepped back.
Anthony caught her elbow.
She did not pull away.
Walter looked at her.
“He told Nathan he knew the pearls had resurfaced.”
Grace stared.
“The pearls were in your safe.”
“Yes.”
“Then how would Carlo know?”
Walter’s face twisted.
“Because someone opened my safe.”
Anthony’s eyes narrowed.
“Who has access?”
Walter laughed weakly.
“Twenty-six years of mistakes, and you still want one clean answer.”
In the elevator down from Walter’s room, Grace stared at the floor numbers.
Anthony stood beside her.
She said:
“My father never told me he knew your father.”
Anthony looked over.
“Maybe he thought that was safer.”
“That word is getting old.”
“Yes.”
Grace exhaled.
“I keep thinking about all the times I asked him why he still went to the shop when he was sick.”
“What did he say?”
“That old things deserved maintenance.”
Anthony almost smiled.
“That sounds like him.”
Grace looked at him.
“You barely knew him.”
“No.”
“But?”
“He repaired my father’s watch once. Refused payment because he said Salvatore had already overpaid him for another job.”
Grace laughed softly.
“That definitely sounds like him.”
The elevator doors opened.
Before stepping out, Anthony said:
“Whatever we find about Nathan, I won’t let Carlo’s version become the only version.”
Grace studied him.
“You promise?”
Anthony thought of every promise adults had broken around Emma.
“No.”
She frowned.
“I’ll verify it.”
Grace smiled.
“Better.”
Anthony’s phone rang.
Leo.
Anthony answered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found the red stone.”
Grace looked up sharply.
Leo continued.
“Emma did.”
Of course.
“Where?”
“In Nathan’s old polishing compound tin.”
Grace closed her eyes.
Leo continued.
“There’s an engraving under it.”
“What does it say?”
Anthony listened.
His face changed.
Grace saw it.
“What?”
Anthony lowered the phone.
The engraving read:
W.R. TELLS HALF-TRUTHS.
Walter closed his eyes.
Grace stared at him.
Then Anthony said:
“Emma found something else.”
Walter looked up.
“A receipt.”
“For what?”
Anthony’s voice turned flat.
“A medication purchase in Carlo DeLuca’s name.”
Walter stopped breathing for one second.
Grace’s face emptied.
Anthony continued.
“Dated three days before Nathan died.”
Walter whispered:
“Then he knows.”
“Knows what?”
Walter looked at Anthony.
“That Nathan kept the original Harbor 6 ledger.”
Anthony’s jaw tightened.
“Where?”
Walter stared at Grace.
“Inside the Moretti mausoleum.”
Grace closed her eyes.
Anthony stood.
Walter continued.
“Your father hid it behind his own nameplate.”
Anthony looked at him.
Twenty-six years.
His father’s grave.
Nathan’s secret.
Walter’s half-truths.
Carlo DeLuca.
And now a ledger hidden in the one place Anthony visited every anniversary without ever thinking to search.
Walter whispered:
“If Carlo gets there first, everyone Nathan died protecting becomes a list.”
Anthony turned toward the door.
Grace followed.
Walter called after them.
“Anthony.”
He stopped.
Walter’s voice was weak.
“I did betray your father.”
Anthony looked back.
“But I did not betray him last.”
Anthony said nothing.
Then left.
May you like
Because for the first time in twenty-six years, the man he trusted most was not asking to be believed.
He was asking Anthony to verify every word.
