Chapter 2 - THE BLUE BOOK UNDER THE FLOOR
Leah took Sophie home.
Roman did not stop her.
That was the first decision he made correctly after hearing the words blue book.
The second was not sending anyone after them.
He wanted to.
Not to threaten.
To protect.
To ask.
To know.
Intent did not matter enough.
Leah had already said his family hurt her.
So Roman called Vincent Hale.
“I need independent counsel.”
“For you?”
“For the estate.”
Vincent went quiet.
“Why?”
Roman looked at Daniel’s photograph on the dining table.
“Because there may be evidence my father concealed something connected to Daniel’s death.”
Silence.
Then Vincent’s voice changed.
Professional.
“Preserve everything. Do not contact witnesses about substance.”
“Leah?”
“Especially Leah.”
Good.
Roman hated it.
That made it probably right.
The next morning, Leah contacted him first.
Through an attorney.
Not privately.
Her lawyer was Carmen Ruiz, a civil-rights attorney in Queens.
Roman knew the name because she had sued one Bellini construction subsidiary ten years earlier and won.
Perfect.
Carmen’s email:
Ms. Carter is willing to provide information regarding events at the Bellini estate eighteen years ago under the following conditions:
1. No direct contact without counsel for now.
2. No surveillance or security presence near her residence or daughter.
3. No employment retaliation through vendors.
4. Any documents transferred are copied and logged.
5. Law enforcement will be notified if evidence suggests a crime.
Roman read twice.
Then replied through Vincent:
Agreed.
No negotiation.
Good.
That afternoon, Detective Mira Sloan from Major Crimes met Carmen, Leah, Roman, and Vincent in a conference room outside Bellini property.
Neutral.
Sophie stayed with Leah’s sister.
Good.
Leah carried a canvas tote.
Not the red-hat tote.
He noticed anyway.
Carmen began.
“My client’s legal name is Leah Rosa Carter. She was born Rosa Leah Marino. She changed her first and last names after relocation.”
Roman looked at Leah.
“Why?”
Carmen lifted hand.
“She’ll answer.”
Leah looked at Roman.
“Because your father knew the old one.”
There.
“Did he threaten you?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“Not yet.”
Carmen looked at Sloan.
“Background first.”
Good.
Leah opened tote.
Removed a blue notebook.
Small.
Cloth cover.
Edges worn.
Roman’s hands tightened.
Sophie had told truth.
Under their floor.
Leah said:
“This belonged to Daniel.”
Roman stared.
“How?”
“He gave it to me the night before he died.”
There.
“Why you?”
“Because he did not trust anyone else in the house.”
That hurt.
“Not me?”
Leah looked at him.
“You were twenty-seven and trying to prove to your father you belonged.”
Roman said nothing.
True.
Daniel had been different.
Older.
Calmer.
Less interested in Vittorio’s approval.
That had always irritated Roman.
Until death turned irritation into sainthood.
Leah continued.
“Daniel discovered money was being moved through port maintenance contracts.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“What kind of money?”
“Skimming. kickbacks. payoff accounts.”
“Who?”
She opened blue book.
Names.
Companies.
Dates.
Amounts.
Some Roman recognized.
Old.
Dead.
Sold.
Then:
VITTORIO.
A. VALE.
M. BIANCHI.
Roman stopped.
Marco Bianchi.
Still alive.
Current Bellini chief financial officer.
Fifty-nine.
Had worked for family thirty-four years.
Trusted.
Of course.
Sloan asked:
“Any criminal conduct documented directly?”
Leah nodded.
“Daniel wrote what he personally saw and what he was told.”
Good distinction.
One entry:
MB moved 220k from harbor repair to East River shell.
Father approved.
Another:
Vale says no paper trail on union cash.
Another:
Dad says Roman doesn’t need to know yet.
Roman’s face changed.
Leah watched.
“Yes.”
He looked up.
“My brother was protecting me?”
“Maybe.”
“Or excluding you.”
Good.
Not automatically noble.
Roman nodded.
“Keep going.”
Daniel had planned to confront Vittorio.
Then report externally if father refused.
Why Leah?
Because Daniel knew she was taking bookkeeping classes at night and sometimes helped Teresa organize household expense files. One afternoon, Leah noticed duplicated vendor invoices among papers Daniel was reviewing.
Leah explained:
“Daniel asked me to check three invoice batches because I had no stake in the company.”
“You were seventeen.”
“Eighteen by then.”
Roman nodded.
She had noticed:
same maintenance vendor billed two terminals for identical repairs on same dates.
That opened ledger.
Daniel trusted her because she found it.
Then night before death, he gave blue book.
“If something happens, give it to prosecutor named Ellen Ward.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Leah’s face tightened.
“Because your father found us first.”
Silence.
Sloan leaned forward.
“How?”
“Daniel was dead by morning.”
Official cause:
carjacking gone wrong.
Roman had lived eighteen years with that.
Leah continued.
“At noon, Vittorio called my mother into study.”
“What happened?”
“He showed her photographs of me leaving estate with Daniel.”
“Then?”
“He said police would think I was sleeping with him and stealing.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Were you?”
“No.”
Good.
No romantic dead-brother twist.
“He said if we gave him whatever Daniel left, he would protect us from investigation.”
“Did you give book?”
“No.”
“My mother said we had nothing.”
“What then?”
“He fired us.”
“Then lawsuit.”
Leah looked surprised Roman knew.
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“My mother filed because he withheld wages and threatened our housing.”
Housing?
They lived in Bellini-owned staff apartment.
Of course.
“She filed herself.”
“Yes.”
“Then withdrew.”
Leah’s eyes hardened.
“After Arthur Vale visited.”
Roman felt sick.
“What did he do?”
“He offered relocation money.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“And?”
“He said if we did not sign, police would receive evidence that I helped Daniel steal company records.”
“Did you steal?”
“I copied invoices Daniel gave me access to.”
Potentially unauthorized.
“Yes, technically.”
Good.
No false innocence.
“We signed.”
Settlement sealed.
Name change.
Move.
“Where?”
“Albany first. Then Yonkers years later.”
“Why come back near New York?”
“My husband got work.”
Evan Carter.
Now dead.
Roman asked:
“Did he know?”
“Yes.”
“All?”
“Enough.”
Sloan said:
“Where did you keep book?”
“Different places. After Evan died, under floor.”
“Why never go to police?”
Leah laughed without humor.
“I was eighteen. Your father had lawyers, police contacts, and men outside our apartment.”
Fair.
“Later?”
“I had Sophie.”
Fear evolves.
“Why keep it?”
“Because my mother made me promise not to destroy Daniel’s words.”
“Where is Teresa?”
Leah looked down.
“Died nine years ago.”
There.
No witness now.
Roman looked at blue book.
“Why did Sophie know?”
“She found me moving it after a pipe leak last year.”
“Did you explain?”
“Too much, apparently.”
Sophie remembered dead man from blue book.
Children remember names adults whisper.
Then Sloan asked:
“Why were you at Bellini estate this week?”
Roman looked at Leah.
Good question.
Coincidence?
Leah’s face tightened.
“Work.”
Carmen said:
“Answer fully.”
Leah exhaled.
“The event contractor called. I almost refused.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Rent.”
There.
Same logic as so many women in Roman’s houses.
Work first.
Then:
“And I thought if I ever got inside again, I might learn whether Marco Bianchi still worked there.”
Roman went still.
“You knew he was alive?”
“Public website.”
“So you came partly to look.”
“Yes.”
Not theft.
Not yet.
“What did you plan?”
“Nothing illegal.”
“What does that mean?”
“I wanted to see whether he recognized me.”
“Did he?”
“I never reached him.”
Roman remembered Marco was due at dinner later but canceled with migraine.
Convenient.
Sloan asked:
“Why Bianchi?”
Leah opened final pages.
Daniel’s last entry.
If Dad turns this on me, MB has the backup.
He thinks I don’t know.
Rosa saw him take it from study drawer.
Leah looked at Roman.
“I saw Marco Bianchi take a second ledger.”
There.
A backup.
“What color?”
“Black.”
“Where?”
“He put it inside a leather portfolio.”
“What happened after Daniel died?”
“I never saw it again.”
Sloan asked:
“Did you tell Vittorio?”
“No.”
Good.
That may have saved it.
Then Roman asked:
“Did Daniel tell you why he did not give the blue book to me?”
Leah looked at him.
“He said you loved your father too much.”
Roman’s chest tightened.
Then:
“He also said you would hate him if he was wrong.”
That hurt more.
Daniel had feared Roman’s judgment.
Maybe correctly.
Roman looked down.
“What did you think of me then?”
Leah’s face softened slightly.
“You were loud.”
He almost smiled.
“And?”
“You made staff nervous.”
Fair.
“You tipped too much when guilty.”
He did smile.
Small.
“Anything else?”
“You worshipped Vittorio.”
The smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
Then Sloan closed notebook.
“We need to authenticate, compare financial records, and reopen Daniel’s death review if evidence supports.”
Roman nodded.
“No private investigation?”
“You can conduct lawful corporate audit through counsel, but coordinate so you don’t contaminate criminal evidence.”
Good.
Then Leah said:
“There’s one more thing.”
Everyone looked.
She reached into tote.
An envelope.
Sealed.
Yellowed.
Addressed:
ROMAN BELLINI.
Daniel’s handwriting.
Roman stopped breathing.
“He left this with the book?”
“Yes.”
“You never opened?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you send it?”
Leah’s face changed.
“Because your father told us if anything from Daniel ever reached you, he would know.”
There.
Eighteen years.
A letter waiting.
Roman did not take it immediately.
He looked at Sloan.
“Evidence?”
She nodded.
“Photograph first. Then you can open with us present if it is personal and no forensic hold.”
Good.
They documented.
Roman opened.
One page.
Little brother,
If Rosa gives you this, then I was right to be afraid.
Roman closed his eyes.
Daniel continued:
Do not trust the first person who tells you Dad did everything.
That sentence changed room.
Not Vittorio alone.
Then:
Dad built the machine.
But someone else learned how to keep it running without him.
At bottom:
Ask Marco why he was at Pier 9 the night I died.
Roman looked up.
Marco Bianchi had told police eighteen years ago he was home with his wife.
His wife had confirmed.
She died six years later.
May you like
No one had questioned it again.
Until now.
