Chapter 4 - THE WORKSHOP THAT HELD A DEAD MAN'S SECRET|
Roman drove to Evelyn's father's workshop that afternoon.
The building stood on a narrow industrial street on Chicago's south side, wedged between a closed printing company and an auto repair shop. Its faded blue doors were streaked with rust, and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete.
Evelyn had spent most of her childhood there. Her father, Thomas Hayes, had repaired antique clocks and restored wooden furniture for families who cared more about history than convenience.
Roman remembered meeting him only twice.
Thomas had been polite but cautious, a man who never seemed impressed by expensive watches or powerful names. During their last conversation, he had told Roman that a man who couldn't protect his family had no business calling himself a king.
Roman had laughed.
He regretted it now.
Dante unlocked the workshop using a key Evelyn had kept in her hospital bag. Inside, dust floated through pale shafts of afternoon light. Workbenches stood beneath canvas covers, and hundreds of small drawers lined the walls.
Roman walked slowly through the room.
“Her father kept records here?”
“Apparently,” Dante replied. “But the place was searched recently.”
Roman looked at the floor.
Fresh scratches marked the wooden cabinets. One desk drawer had been forced open, and a stack of old invoices lay scattered beneath the window.
“Someone knew what they were looking for.”
Dante checked the rear entrance.
“Could be the Rossi people.”
“Could be someone inside my own family.”
The distinction mattered.
Vanessa had been part of his inner circle for years, but Claudia controlled the family's legal holdings and had access to records most people never saw.
Roman opened the small notebook Evelyn had given him. The dates corresponded to invoices attached to the shipping account. Each payment appeared legitimate until Thomas had added a second number in the margin.
The numbers formed a pattern.
“Look at this,” Roman said.
Dante leaned over his shoulder.
The payments had been made shortly before the fire, then repeated six months later. Several invoices referenced replacement ventilation equipment that had never arrived.
“Someone billed the company for safety equipment they never installed,” Dante said.
“And someone approved the payments.”
Roman turned the page.
Beside the final entry, Thomas had written a short note.
If anything happens, check the old clock.
Roman looked around the workshop.
Hundreds of clocks filled the shelves, but one stood apart from the rest: a tall walnut grandfather clock with a cracked brass face.
He opened the cabinet.
The pendulum was missing.
Behind the mechanism, he found a narrow metal compartment containing a key, a folded photograph, and a small audio recorder.
Dante lifted the recorder carefully.
“Want me to play it?”
Roman nodded.
A burst of static filled the room. Then Thomas Hayes's voice emerged, tired but unmistakable.
“If you're hearing this, then I was right to be afraid.”
Roman stood motionless.
“The ventilation system at Pier 14 was deliberately disabled. I saw the maintenance order myself. It was approved by someone with authority over the building, and the replacement parts were never delivered.”
A pause followed.
Then Thomas continued.
“Claudia told me the money was being moved to protect the family. She said Roman's father knew. I don't believe her. I think they're preparing to blame the fire on someone who can't defend himself.”
The recording crackled.
“Evelyn, sweetheart, if this reaches you, I'm sorry. I should have taken you away before any of this started.”
Roman gripped the edge of the workbench.
The recording continued for several seconds before Thomas spoke again.
“And if Roman is listening, tell him this: your wife came back for you. She went into that warehouse after everyone else ran out.”
The device clicked off.
Silence settled over the workshop.
Roman looked at the photograph inside the compartment. It showed Thomas standing outside Pier 14 with two men. One was Roman's father. The other was an older man Roman recognized from family records: Paul Hensley, the investigator who had disappeared after the fire.
On the back, Thomas had written a date.
Three days before the fire.
Dante's phone rang.
He listened, then turned toward Roman.
“Boss, there's a problem.”
“What?”
“Someone has entered Evelyn's hospital room.”
Roman was already moving.
“Who?”
May you like
Dante swallowed.
“Your stepmother.”
