Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN WHO TAUGHT AVA TO LIE
Celia Raines had taught Ava how to palm a coin when she was nine.
Julian Brooks believed children should learn misdirection only after they could shuffle properly.
Celia believed rules were how men delayed interesting things.
She slipped Ava a half-dollar behind Julian’s back and whispered:
“Never lie when silence will do.”
Ava remembered that sentence while staring at Celia’s empty office.
Police had obtained a warrant.
The office sat above a dance studio in Evanston, two rooms filled with booking calendars, venue maps, costume invoices, and framed posters from Ava’s career.
Ava’s face covered one wall.
Her father’s covered another.
For the first time, affection looked like evidence.
She hated it.
---
Nora allowed Ava inside after the forensic team cleared the main room.
Dante was not there.
Ava had not asked him to come.
He respected that.
Good.
Dean had apparently tried to argue that Dante should have eyes on any search involving Rocco.
Nora told him to acquire a warrant and a badge.
Gia texted Ava that Dean had been offended for three full minutes.
Small joy.
---
Celia’s filing system was immaculate.
Too immaculate.
Twelve years of contracts.
Tax documents.
Production schedules.
No handwritten notes.
That was wrong.
Celia wrote everything by hand.
Always.
Ava had teased her about it.
She used yellow legal pads, black felt-tip pens, and arrows that crossed margins like train routes.
Not one legal pad remained.
Someone had removed the thinking.
Left the paperwork.
---
In a locked drawer, investigators found an old program from the Bellini Grand winter benefit.
Inside, Julian had written:
C — if R changes the freight marks again, photograph before loading. L says one more run only. I don’t believe either brother.
C.
Could be Celia.
R.
Rocco.
L.
Lorenzo.
Evidence of cooperation between Julian and Celia at that time.
Not necessarily criminal partnership.
Good.
---
Then Ava found a photograph tucked behind the program.
Julian and Celia inside Stage Nine.
Celia looked twenty-eight.
Julian fifty-one.
They were standing beside the original blue Orpheus cabinet.
On the back:
Two backs, three liars, one way out. — J
Ava almost smiled.
Then she saw the date.
Two weeks before the fire.
Three liars.
Who?
Rocco.
Lorenzo.
Celia?
Or Julian included himself?
Magicians loved ambiguous numbers.
Infuriating even from the grave.
---
Nora’s team found financial records connecting Orpheus Event Logistics to Rocco Bellini’s family trust.
Also to Celia.
She owned forty percent.
The company formed eleven years earlier.
One year after Julian died.
Its business:
specialty freight for theatrical productions.
Ava sat down.
Celia had spent twelve years helping manage Ava’s career while secretly owning a company built around the same logistics Julian had tried to stop.
No explanation made that feel harmless.
---
Then Ava’s phone rang.
Celia.
Everyone in the room froze.
Nora pointed to the speaker system.
Ava nodded.
The call was recorded.
“Hello.”
Celia’s voice was calm.
Too calm.
“You found the office.”
“Yes.”
“I expected faster.”
Ava closed her eyes.
There was the woman she knew.
Even now.
“Where are you?”
“Safe.”
“With Rocco?”
A pause.
“Sometimes.”
Not answer.
Ava looked at Nora.
No signal.
Good.
“What happened at the gala?”
Celia sighed.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Which part?”
“The shot.”
Ava’s skin went cold.
There.
Admission adjacent.
“Was the cabinet supposed to open?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To move Dante off the stage.”
“Where?”
“Service corridor.”
“Against his will.”
“He was going to be frightened, not hurt.”
Ava laughed once.
“Kidnapping with manners.”
“Ava.”
“No.”
Celia stopped.
Good.
---
“Why?”
Celia’s answer came quieter.
“Because Dante has something Rocco needs.”
Dante’s phone?
Access?
No.
“His father’s signet archive key.”
Ava frowned.
“What is that?”
Dante had inherited a physical cryptographic token from Lorenzo used to access a sealed Bellini family records vault.
Not a digital password alone.
A metal authentication device kept on Dante’s person during public events? That would be irresponsible. Let's clarify: Celia believed the authentication strip was inside Dante's signet ring. He wears ring? Opening had no ring mention. Could add he carries a slim black ring maybe not. Better his watch clasp contains a hardware key? Too spy-ish. Let's simplify: Dante’s presence was needed for biometric access to a private Bellini archive stored in a vault. Rocco wanted him abducted to force access. Yes.
“Rocco needs Dante himself,” Celia said. “The old archive uses his hand geometry and voice authorization. Lorenzo made sure only his son could open it after he died.”
Ava looked at Nora.
This needed verification later.
“Why does Rocco want the archive?”
“Because Julian put something there.”
Ava went still.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
There.
---
According to Celia, in the months before the fire, Julian created two evidence sets.
Stage Nine contained the operational ledgers.
The Bellini family vault contained:
names,
payoffs,
and one audio recording of a meeting between Rocco and Lorenzo.
Julian gave it to Lorenzo.
Lorenzo locked it away.
Rocco never gained access after Lorenzo changed the authorization to Dante alone.
Dante did not know Julian’s package remained inside.
Possibly.
Again:
Celia's claim.
---
“You could have asked Dante,” Ava said.
Celia laughed.
“Dante Bellini does not open family archives because someone asks politely.”
“Did you try?”
Silence.
There.
No.
Control again.
Ava hated how common the pattern was.
---
“What did you want the key under my cabinet to do?”
Celia’s voice changed.
“You were supposed to find it after Dante was gone.”
“Why?”
“To lead you to Stage Nine.”
“Why would you want me there?”
“Because Rocco was going to blame the kidnapping on someone else, destroy the old theater, and remove everything Julian left.”
Ava stopped.
“So you sabotaged Rocco’s plan?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Maybe.
“You helped plan it.”
“Yes.”
There.
Celia had tried to do both:
assist the abduction enough to stay trusted,
plant Julian’s key so Ava would uncover evidence if it went wrong.
Double game.
Not heroic.
Dangerous.
---
“The shooter?”
“Rocco’s man. I told him no firearms.”
Ava closed eyes.
As if setting rules around kidnapping made her ethical.
“Name.”
Celia hesitated.
Then:
“Wes Talbot.”
Nora wrote.
Former private security contractor.
Could be found.
Good.
“Did you hit Miles?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“Wes.”
“Why?”
“He recognized the wrong lanyard.”
There.
Useful.
---
Ava asked the question she had been avoiding.
“Did you kill my father?”
Silence.
Long enough that the room felt airless.
Then Celia said:
“No.”
Ava’s throat tightened.
“Were you there?”
“Yes.”
There.
“Did you start the fire?”
Another silence.
“No.”
“Did you know who did?”
“Yes.”
Ava’s hand curled around the phone.
“Rocco?”
Celia whispered:
“Julian.”
Everything stopped.
Ava stared.
“What?”
“He started it.”
“No.”
“He was destroying the duplicate crate molds.”
“No.”
“Ava—”
“No.”
Julian Brooks did not burn himself alive.
Celia continued carefully.
“He poured solvent over the false compartments and set them alight in the loading bay. He thought the firebreak would hold.”
Ava’s breathing changed.
“Then what?”
“Hollis Electric had bypassed a safety cutout during work that week. The suppression system failed.”
The payment to Hollis.
Rocco’s ledger.
Celia’s voice cracked.
“Rocco paid them to disable the suppression because he planned to burn the workshop later after removing the books.”
Two fire plans collided.
Julian’s controlled destruction.
Rocco’s sabotage.
The fire spread.
---
“Where were you?”
“Outside.”
“Why?”
“Julian told me to take the backup.”
“Did you go back?”
Silence.
Ava knew before Celia answered.
“No.”
There.
Celia had left.
Maybe out of fear.
Maybe because she carried evidence.
Maybe because she chose survival.
Ava did not yet know.
“Did you call 911?”
“No.”
“Dante did.”
“Yes.”
Ava’s eyes filled.
The world rearranged painfully.
Her father had not been murdered by one clean act.
He had chosen fire.
Rocco had sabotaged safety.
Celia had left.
Dante had called for help and then stayed silent.
Everyone had a piece.
No one got the whole tragedy.
---
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Celia began crying.
That angered Ava more.
“Why?”
“Because Julian made me promise you would stay out.”
“He died.”
“I know.”
“You stayed in my life.”
“I know.”
“You booked my shows.”
“Yes.”
“You hugged my mother at the funeral.”
Celia’s breath broke.
“Yes.”
“And all those years you owned Orpheus Event Logistics with Rocco.”
Silence.
There.
The worse truth.
---
Celia had not merely stayed silent.
After Julian died, Rocco offered her protection and money if she kept the freight system alive in a cleaner form.
She accepted.
At first because she feared prosecution.
Then because money changed fear into habit.
She told herself she was only moving legitimate equipment.
Later:
cash.
records.
valuable goods.
Same circuit.
New labels.
“I was supposed to shut it down from inside,” Celia said.
Ava laughed bitterly.
“For twelve years?”
No answer.
Good.
---
“Why now?”
“Rocco is dying.”
That surprised everyone.
Pancreatic cancer.
Months, maybe less.
He wanted to destroy the remaining records before death and transfer offshore assets to his sons.
Celia believed he would kill her afterward.
She used the gala to force the old evidence into daylight.
By abducting Dante.
By risking Ava.
Miles.
Three hundred guests.
Ava’s voice went cold.
“You became him.”
Celia stopped crying.
That landed.
---
Nora signaled:
keep her talking.
Ava did.
“Where is the Bellini archive?”
Celia said:
“Ask Dante.”
“He doesn’t know what Julian put there.”
“He knows where it is.”
“Where are you?”
No answer.
Then Celia said:
“If Dante opens the archive, everything changes.”
“Then let police handle it.”
“Rocco will move first.”
“You already helped him move.”
Silence.
Ava continued:
“I am not doing another forced choice.”
There.
Celia breathed.
Then:
“You sound like Julian.”
Ava closed her eyes.
“Goodbye, Celia.”
She hung up.
Nora immediately began tracing what could be traced.
No instant location.
But Wes Talbot now had a name.
Rocco had a motive.
Celia had admissions.
The Bellini archive had a possible evidentiary link.
Next step:
warrants.
Lawyers.
Procedure.
Good.
---
Dante arrived two hours later after Nora requested verification about the family archive.
He confirmed it existed.
Not at a bank.
Beneath a private Bellini records facility outside Lake Forest, managed by an independent trust after Lorenzo died.
Access required Dante’s biometric authorization plus a trustee key.
No one person could open it alone.
Better security than Celia described.
Good.
Ava looked at him.
“Would you have opened it if Celia asked?”
“No.”
“Would you open it now?”
Dante looked toward Nora.
“If there is a warrant.”
Ava nodded.
Good.
No private family excavation.
---
The warrant came the next morning.
Ava did not need to be there.
She chose to go only after Nora said Julian’s material might require identification.
The vault opened under cameras.
Dante placed his hand on the scanner.
Spoke the authorization phrase.
The trustee used a separate key.
Steel door released.
Inside:
boxes,
legal files,
old ledgers,
family wills.
And one blue metal case marked with a crescent inside a square.
Ava stopped breathing.
Julian again.
The case opened with the same brass key police had recovered from her cabinet.
Inside lay:
three audio tapes,
one notebook,
and a sealed letter addressed:
TO DANTE BELLINI, IF HE BECOMES BETTER THAN THE MEN WHO RAISED HIM.
Dante stared.
Ava looked at him.
“That is becoming a theme.”
He almost smiled.
Then Nora lifted the first tape.
Label:
ORPHEUS — ROCCO / LORENZO / CELIA — FINAL MEETING
Celia had told one truth.
May you like
Julian had hidden the second back inside the Bellini family itself.
Now they were finally about to hear what everyone had spent twelve years trying not to say.
