Chapter 4 - PIER SEVENTEEN
The first thing Vincent wanted was Carlo.
The second thing he wanted was Peter Salvi.
The third was a room with no witnesses.
He got none.
Laura Chen said:
“No.”
Vincent stared.
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
Marco looked away.
Elina, carrying coffee into conference room, pretended not to hear.
Laura continued:
“Preserve records first. Interview through counsel second. Nobody gets summoned to the basement of a house because you are angry.”
Vincent looked at her.
“There is no basement interrogation room.”
“That is not the point.”
Good.
He sat.
Pier 17 records were worse than one shipment.
Over fourteen months, Hudson Technical Advisers appeared on eleven cargo movements.
Declared:
industrial filters.
machine housings.
agricultural solvents.
laboratory glass.
Actual internal exception tags indicated controlled chemicals, untaxed pharmaceuticals, and at least two shipments with contents never fully reconciled.
Moretti Maritime credentials authorized bypass.
Sometimes Vincent’s.
Sometimes Carlo’s.
Once Marco’s.
Marco stared.
“I never approved this.”
Vincent looked at him.
Laura said:
“Neither did Vincent, according to him. We verify.”
Good.
Logs showed approvals entered remotely at odd hours.
Some from terminals not assigned to credential holders.
Weak controls.
Shared passwords.
Old culture.
Vincent had built a company where senior codes were treated like power, not identity.
That made misuse easy.
His responsibility.
“Who had access?” Laura asked.
Marco answered.
“Executive assistants. IT admins. Peter’s compliance team.”
“Too many.”
“Yes.”
Good.
Daniel had discovered at least one container.
Security report said he entered at 7:14 p.m.
Guard found him photographing labels.
Daniel refused to surrender camera.
Then Carlo arrived.
Not Vincent.
Why?
Guard called executive emergency number.
It routed to Carlo because Vincent was at charity dinner.
Carlo removed Daniel.
No police.
No incident escalated.
The next day Daniel confronted Anna.
Likely.
Then family dinner.
Then death.
Laura called Carlo’s attorney before Carlo.
Good.
Carlo agreed to interview at Manhattan office the next morning.
He arrived furious.
Fifty-two now? Vincent 50, younger brother maybe 47. Earlier we said 47 now. Fine.
Same dark hair gone silver at temples.
Same Moretti eyes.
Different patience.
He sat.
“Are you accusing me of killing my nephew?”
Laura answered:
“No.”
Vincent said nothing.
Good.
Carlo looked at him.
“You think it.”
Vincent replied:
“I think Daniel found Pier 17.”
Carlo’s face changed.
Recognition.
There.
“What did you know?”
Carlo looked at lawyer.
Then:
“I knew Peter was moving product.”
“What product?”
“Gray-market pharmaceuticals.”
“Precursors?”
“I learned later.”
“When?”
“After Daniel died.”
Vincent’s hands tightened.
“Before?”
“I thought Peter was diverting imported medicine around tariffs and licensing.”
“Illegal.”
“Yes.”
Good.
“And you allowed.”
“I allowed him to use Pier 17.”
There.
Vincent looked sick.
“With my code?”
“No.”
“Did you know he did?”
“No.”
“Your code?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
Carlo looked away.
“Because if customs issue reached company, I wanted it on me.”
Vincent laughed bitterly.
“Noble criminal.”
“Don’t.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Because you had just pulled two divisions legal. You were closing old routes.”
There.
Vincent had been reducing criminal operations before Daniel died.
Not clean.
Changing.
Carlo thought Vincent would shut profitable smuggling.
Correct.
“Peter said it was temporary.”
Of course.
Every bad system loves temporary.
Laura asked:
“Did Daniel confront you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Pier 17.”
“What happened?”
“He called me a coward.”
“Were you?”
Carlo looked at Vincent.
“Yes.”
Good.
“What did he say?”
“That Peter was moving something worse than medicine.”
“Did he show proof?”
“Photos.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you take camera?”
“No.”
“Security report says he refused to surrender.”
“To guard. He gave it to Anna next day maybe.”
Possibility.
“Did you tell Peter Daniel knew?”
Carlo stopped.
There.
“Yes.”
Vincent stood.
Laura said:
“Sit.”
He did not.
But he did not move toward Carlo.
Good.
Carlo continued.
“I told Peter to shut it down.”
“When?”
“Same night.”
“Did he?”
“He said he would.”
“Did you tell him Daniel had photos?”
“Yes.”
Vincent’s voice broke.
“You told him my son had proof.”
Carlo stood too.
“I did not tell him to hurt Daniel.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Did you follow Daniel the night he died?”
Carlo stared.
“What?”
“Cadillac.”
Carlo’s face changed again.
He understood.
“No.”
“Where was your car?”
“At house.”
“You were at house.”
“Yes.”
“Could someone use it?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Driver. security. Peter sometimes.”
“Keys?”
“Hook by garage office.”
Weak control again.
Laura asked:
“Did you leave the house that night?”
“No.”
“Witness?”
“My wife called at ten-fifty from Boston. I answered house line.”
Could prove location at 10:50, after crash ~10:40? Maybe too late. Still.
“Before?”
“Peter and I were in library.”
“Until when?”
Carlo thought.
“Ten-fifteen maybe.”
“Then?”
“I went to smoking room.”
“Peter?”
“Left.”
There.
Before Daniel call at 10:31 and crash 10:40.
Peter left.
With access to Carlo’s Cadillac perhaps.
Not proof.
“Why did Peter leave?”
“Said he had headache.”
Vincent laughed once.
Of course.
Laura asked:
“Did you answer Daniel’s call?”
“No.”
“Did Peter?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you know Vincent was impaired?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He could barely speak by ten.”
“What did you think?”
“Too much drink.”
“Who poured amaro?”
Carlo stopped.
“I did.”
“Did you put anything in it?”
“No.”
“Who handled glasses?”
“Teresa brought. I poured.”
“Did Peter touch?”
Carlo thought.
“He handed Vincent his glass.”
Small.
Possible.
Not proof.
Then Laura asked:
“Why did Anna suspect Vincent was drugged?”
Carlo stared.
“She did?”
“Yes.”
He looked at Vincent.
“I thought she blamed me for getting you drunk.”
No.
“She never told you?”
“No.”
Good.
Carlo’s attorney interrupted.
“We need a break.”
Fair.
After fifteen minutes, Carlo returned.
He brought something.
An old leather wallet.
Inside, folded photo.
Daniel.
Taken at baseball game.
Vincent looked.
“Why do you have that?”
“Daniel gave it to me.”
“What?”
“Back says something.”
Carlo handed to Laura first.
Good.
She unfolded.
Daniel’s handwriting.
UNCLE C -
IF I’M WRONG, BURN THIS.
IF I’M RIGHT, DAD NEEDS TO KNOW PETER HAS BEEN SIGNING AS HIM.
DON’T TELL PETER I TOLD YOU.
Vincent closed his eyes.
“When did he give you this?”
“Pier 17.”
“You told Peter anyway.”
“Yes.”
Carlo’s face broke.
“I thought I was stopping it.”
There.
Not murderer.
Betrayer by carelessness and criminal complicity.
“Why keep photo?”
“Because he died.”
No better answer.
Laura asked:
“Why not show Vincent?”
Carlo looked at brother.
“Because I knew what it meant.”
“What?”
“That I had caused Peter to know Daniel knew.”
Silence.
Guilt.
Maybe not legal cause.
Human.
Vincent sat.
He wanted to hate Carlo cleanly.
Could not.
That was harder.
Then Peter Salvi’s attorney called.
Peter would not voluntarily interview.
Expected.
Laura said:
“Fine.”
They would use records.
Not intimidation.
Financial forensic work began.
Hudson Technical Advisers paid technician Edward Mott.
Why?
Invoice:
TRAFFIC SYSTEM CONSULTING.
Mott had no known relationship before Daniel’s death.
Payment two days after.
Peter signed.
Bad.
Then company phone records.
Peter called Mott six times in three months before crash.
There.
Not random consultant after.
Then a car service invoice.
Peter’s personal driver was off that night.
But Moretti garage log showed Carlo’s Cadillac left at 10:22 p.m.
Driver field blank.
Returned 11:08.
Security camera archive gone.
Gate clerk log?
Handwritten.
Vehicle:
C. MORETTI CADILLAC.
Driver:
P.S.
Peter Salvi.
There.
Road.
Laura laid copy on table.
“Now we have stronger basis.”
Vincent’s voice turned cold.
“Call police.”
Laura looked at him.
“Which?”
Good question.
Local police had buried traffic footage.
Maybe corruption.
State attorney general?
Federal authorities due controlled chemicals and wire fraud.
Laura chose federal prosecutors and state internal affairs simultaneously through outside counsel.
No private warning to Peter.
Good.
Then they went back to the call.
Carrier record showed Daniel called east-wing line at 10:31.
Four minutes eleven seconds.
Peter had already left at 10:22.
Carlo was smoking room.
Vincent upstairs impaired.
Anna downstairs.
Who answered?
Could be Vincent bedroom extension.
Could be Anna library.
Could be someone else.
Anna’s note said call mattered.
Maybe there was recording.
Old phone system had voicemail recording? Not for answered calls.
But Daniel’s cellular provider archived voicemail only, not call content.
No audio.
Unless Daniel recorded.
Sophia was not part of this.
Good.
The blue book remained with Laura for fingerprint/document inspection.
No secret compartment.
Just a book.
That mattered.
Sometimes object is only object.
At dinner, Vincent sat in kitchen again.
Sophia had spaghetti.
He had nothing.
Elina said:
“Eat.”
Everyone froze.
She froze too.
Vincent looked at her.
Then plate Teresa had left.
He ate.
Good.
Sophia watched.
“Did you find road?”
Vincent stared.
“Who told you?”
“Nobody.”
She pointed toward adults whispering all day.
“House talks.”
Elina laughed despite herself.
Vincent nodded.
“Yes. We found more about road.”
“Money?”
“Some.”
“Call?”
“Not yet.”
Sophia twirled spaghetti.
“You’ll find it.”
Vincent looked at her.
“No promise.”
She shrugged.
“Okay.”
Good.
Then Marco entered with Laura on phone.
His face was pale.
“What?”
Vincent asked.
Marco put speaker.
Laura said:
“Federal investigators found Peter Salvi at Newark airport.”
Vincent stood.
“He was leaving?”
“Ticket to Zurich.”
“Arrested?”
“Detained for questioning under warrant related to financial records. His lawyer is present.”
Good.
No airport chase.
Then:
“And he had Daniel’s camera in his carry-on.”
The room went silent.
Nine years.
Peter Salvi had kept the camera Daniel used at Pier 17.
Not destroyed.
Not because sentiment.
May you like
Because the memory card might be insurance.
And whatever remained on it had frightened him enough to carry it when he tried to leave.
