42. Bianca

Adrian is right. I"m definitely not the only one crying my eyes out.

At this point, I"ve already used up two bottles of eye drops. Adrian is holding onto my arm with a stern look on his face as I hunch over the coffin, sobbing at least audibly if not visually. But I"m not the only one putting on a show. On the other side of the coffin, Allegra is wailing like a banshee. Somehow, I doubt her love for my father had been that strong.

Enzo is sitting next to the row of chairs. The ceremony just ended, and they"re ready to lower the coffin into the ground. Finally, I"d be rid of the old man forever. I have to mentally tell myself to build up the patience to withstand this display.

I"m surprised Adrian hasn"t tried to dissuade me from going this far, but even he knows that appearances have to be kept.

We invite everyone back to the house. I"m thankful, though, that Adrian is doing most of the entertaining, and I can take a break. Fake crying does take a toll on you.

Of course, Allegra seems to get the memo as well when she passes out in the drawing room. I have to wonder if this is part of the act, or she"s too worn out from the crying. Enzo is currently picking her up from the floor, none too pleased to be put into this position, and deposits her on one of the sofas.

"She took it pretty rough, didn"t she?" I ask sarcastically after he leaves her and heads to the refreshment table.

"She"s been hysterical for days."

"How long were they together?"

"That I know of? A few months." He pours himself a glass of wine and casually leans against the wall. From the corner of my eye, I see Adrian talking to some old men. He catches my eye and glares at me for some reason.

He"s probably mad that I"m throwing him to the wolves.

"I don"t know what she saw in him." I shake my head at the mental image of Allegra and Martin. Allegra is around my age, for God"s sake. The entire situation is too disgusting to contemplate.

"My wife has unusual tastes in men." I detect almost a smile as he says the words, but it"s quickly gone as he asks me. "I"m curious about you, though."

"Me?" I feign ignorance and give him a small smile. Again, Adrian scowls at me from across the room. What"s wrong with him?

"You were almost too calm when you saw Martin… heartless, so to speak. And today, you were worse than Mary at Jesus" crucifixion. So, which one is it?"

"Enzo, a woman must preserve an air of mystery at all times."

"Indeed. I just find it odd. Martin commits suicide before having his heart carved out and a T branded on his forehead by the henchman of a drug lord."

"Considering Martin"s implication with you, I think it"s not surprising he would have availed himself to the services of a cartel."

"Touché." Enzo laughs. "But I do wonder. Why did you conceal the suicide?"

"It"s rather simple. Martin wanted to end up on top with that stunt of his. I merely ensured he wouldn"t be able to crawl from the bottom. Pun intended," I say with a straight face, but Enzo"s eyes twinkle with merriment. He shifts a little closer, and that"s when I hear a throat being cleared.

"Enzo," Adrian greets him with a deadly stare, to which Enzo just smiles. "My wife must be tired after suffering so much. I think it"s time she rested." He puts his arm around my shoulders and doesn"t wait for Enzo or me to reply, steering me up the stairs.

"What about the other guests?" I turn to him and ask.

"They"ll eventually find their way out."

"You didn"t have to be so rude. Really, Enzo was just being polite."

"Too damn close for polite," Adrian grumbles, and I suddenly realize what this is. My lips stretch into a smile, and I let myself be led by him.

"This…?" I ask when I realize he"s stopped in front of a guest room.

"I remember what you told me about your childhood room. You might prefer to rest here." I look at him for a second, trying to decipher what I"m feeling right now. There"s a warmth in my chest…

"Thank you," I say, suddenly shy. I open the door and dash inside, closing it behind me.

What was that?

I fan myself a little, and I go into the ensuite bathroom to look in the mirror.

My cheeks are red.

I turn on the faucet and clean my face, removing the mix of dirt and eye drops.

Taking Adrian"s advice to rest, I take off my clothes, remove the mini pistol from my boot, and place it under the pillow. One hour of sleep should be enough to forget about this fiasco and those people to leave. I mean, let"s face it, no one, absolutely no one, is mourning Martin. I doubt even Allegra feels even a smidgen of tenderness towards him. He was just an awful and distasteful person.

I wake up a while later, and I head downstairs. It seems that most people have left. There"s only Marcel and Adrian in the middle of the hallway, engaged in conversation.

"Bianca," Marcel acknowledges me with a nod that I return.

"Is everyone gone?"

"Yes, a while ago," Adrian tells me as he goes towards the bar and pours himself a drink. "I talked to most people, and no one seemed suspicious."

"And here I thought his enemies would at least come to gloat." I sigh and cross my arms. "I went through all the files in his office, and there isn"t anything incriminating." For the past three days since Enzo"s party, I"d scoured every inch of the house, trying to find at least some evidence of Martin"s relationship with Jimenez.

"Martin was many things, but careless wasn"t one of them," Adrian adds.

"There"s only one place I haven"t managed to look in." Marcel and Adrian look at me expectantly. "His safe."

"Safe?" Adrian frowns.

"I don"t think anyone knew about the safe. I didn"t until I snooped around. It"s hidden in his dressing room."

"Have you tried opening it?" Marcel asks, and I shake my head.

"I couldn"t. It"s one of those high-tech ones. It has biometrics."

"Then how can we break it? We need to see what"s inside."

"Don"t worry. I couldn"t, until now that is"

"What do you mean?"

"I needed the funeral home to release Martin"s body for the wake," I say and motion them to follow me to the kitchen. I open the freezer and remove a bag containing Martin"s fingers.

"You cut his fingers?" Adrian"s mouth snaps open in shock as he watches me take a plate and shake the bag so that the fingers fall into the container.

"Only the thumbs and the pointers."

"Good Lord!" Adrian"s hand goes to his forehead, massaging his temple.

Marcel, on the other hand, doesn"t seem at all fazed. I narrow my eyes ever so slightly.

Whatever. One less person to criticize me.

"Fine! Let"s get this over with!" Adrian shakes his head in disgust. I wonder why, though. It"s not like they"re smelly…

"We can"t… yet," Marcel intervenes as he studies the fingers. "Too frozen. We need to leave them to thaw first."

I scrunch up my nose as I look them over and realize he"s right.

"Let"s microwave them," I suggest, and Adrian slaps his forehead this time, letting out a loud sigh.

"I don"t mean like that," I immediately add. "The defrost setting. It might work."

"No," Marcel says pensively. "We can"t risk the heat damaging the fingerprints." Okay, that does make sense.

"You"re right. We can wait for a couple of hours more. We should probably move them until then, though. I don"t think the staff will react too well to detached body parts laying around." I take the plate with the fingers and motion the guys to follow me to Martin"s room.

"This is huge!" Marcel exclaims when he enters.

"Wait until you see the dressing room." I motion towards the door at the end of the room and show them where the safe is.

"There"s probably a fortune here only in watches." Adrian looks at the glass case in the middle of the dressing room that displays Martin"s collection. I"d wager it"s a couple of million just for the watches.

"It makes you wonder what he keeps in the safe if he leaves the valuables outside," Marcel notes.

"It must be business related. There was absolutely nothing anywhere else. To be honest, considering his suicide method, he was prepared to die at any point."

"I wonder why he was willing to risk death by crossing Jimenez. It"s clear that he knew what he was getting into," Adrian says, and Marcel and I agree.

"We just have to hope the safe will give us some info. Otherwise, dead men tell no tales."

I move a bunch of his clothes to reveal a hole in the wall, with the front of the safe sticking out.

"That"s… a big safe." The safe is at least one and a half meters tall and probably stretching another meter in the back.

We decide to sit around and wait for the fingers to thaw, checking every now and then.

The downside is that it also doesn"t take long for them to smell. Adrian turns his face and gives me a reproaching look.

"Hey, I didn"t have any other option, okay?" He shakes his head before saying,"I"m not touching that, just so you know."

"Pussy," I mutter, and Marcel coughs uncomfortably in his fist.

"Don"t worry, big guys. I brought gloves." I remove a pair of medical gloves from my pocket and slip them on. "Let"s see now." I pick up a thumb, and I study the texture, rotating it around. If I wipe it well, it should be fine. I go to the closet and grab one of Martin"s shirts, wiping the finger on it.

"Let"s try now." Both men watch me as I approach the safe with the thumb and press it onto the pad. I wait and… nothing.

"Shit. Can you bring the plate here? This one isn"t working." I proceed to try each finger after carefully wiping all moisture traces from them, but without any luck.

"I think the prints must have been destroyed in the process," Marcel notes, taking one thumb and placing it in the light. "Look, the print is only partial."

"Fuck!" I say, not expecting this. After going through the trouble of desecrating the dead, something even I hadn"t done before, and this isn"t working. I sigh, trying to think of alternatives.

"Then what?" Adrian asks, and an idea comes to mind.

"We blow it up."

"What?" They both turn to look at me.

"Let"s evacuate the house, and we try to blow up the safe"s front door."

"Where do we even get any explosives?"

"I might have some…" I say sheepishly. "I had an explosive stage as a teenager," I add ironically and roll my eyes. "There might still be some left in the basement."

Marcel shakes his head and steps forward to scrutinize the lock. "We risk damaging the inside if we"re not careful. Let me have a go at the lock."

I look at him skeptically, but we don"t have anything to lose, so I nod.

"Do you have any tool kits?"

I quickly go to the basement and bring him everything that might help. When I come back, Marcel looks at the different tools and tests for their size. He then takes a few screwdrivers and digs into the control panel of the vault. He removes the outside cap, and I can see some intricate wiring that"s probably controlling the safe"s functions.

He uses a few more tools to dig inside the panel. I don"t understand what"s happening, but suddenly, there"s a click sound, and the door opens.

"Shit, man!" Adrian is in awe, and honestly, so am I.

Marcel opens the door, and inside are rows upon rows of files. Marcel takes a few out and hands them to me. I"m looking at the documents in my hands, not really paying attention when I hear Adrian yell for us to step back.

I don"t register what happens exactly, but I"m thrown to the back of the room by an explosion coming from the direction of the vault. Adrian"s hands are wrapped around me, cushioning me.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I mutter when I see the vault in flames, the whole room surrounded by smoke and burnt paper. I turn around and see Adrian against the wall, his eyes closed. I don"t even think when I shake him.

"Theo… Theo, wake up. Please wake up." My hands go all over his body, trying to see if there"s any hidden injury. I"m hyperventilating at this point. "Theo…"

"Agh…" He coughs a few times, and the tension leaves my body. He"s all right. He opens his eyes and looks at me with worry in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, because of you. How are you?" I get up and try to help him to his feet. He winces when he tries, and his hand goes to his midriff.

"I"ll be fine. Marcel?" I then remember Marcel was there too and even closer than me.

"Fine!" he says, and I see him on the other side of the bed, with barely any injuries. He must have jumped when Adrian yelled.

Now that everyone is safe and sound, I hurry outside and grab a fire extinguisher from the hallway. I remove the safety and spray it all over the clothes, putting out the small fire that had erupted.

"I should have seen this coming," Marcel says ruefully. "Of course, a high-end vault like this would have a safety installed in case of a break-in. Especially if the information is highly incriminating."

"We still have this." I wave the envelope that Marcel had managed to pass to me before the explosion. "Considering how many more there were inside, it"s not much. But maybe it"s something."

"Let"s see." Adrian still doesn"t look right, but the prospect of opening the envelope is too tempting. I"ll make him get checked out later, I promise myself.

I open the envelope and dump its contents on the bed. It"s a bunch of IDs: a passport, a driver"s license, some subscription cards, an old Boston metro card, and a couple sheets of paper. I look at the IDs, and they all have the same name.

"Greg Sullivan," I say aloud, frowning at Martin"s picture next to that name. "Weird."

While the guys are still perusing the cards, I grab the two sheets and skim them, quickly realizing they both contain high-profile individuals: senators, governors, business executives, etc. There are a few names on the list that are crossed out.

"Look!" I hand the papers to Adrian and Marcel, and they also peruse the names.

"This… do you think it"s blackmail? Why else would all these people"s names be in the same place? What do they have in common?"

"No… it can"t be…" Adrian looks at the documents as if he"d seen a ghost. He quickly takes the passport with Greg Sullivan"s name on it and puts them side by side.

"What?" I ask.

"The night my parents were killed, I overheard them talking to someone. They said they had a list of all the names involved with Jimenez, and they wanted to go public, but they were afraid for me. They ended up giving the files away as insurance."

"To whom?" I frown. How could he know they"re the same files?

"To someone named Greg…" He raises his head and gives me an odd look. This just got a whole lot more complicated.