Chapter 13 - The Watch on the Wrong Wrist|
Roberto removed the watch and placed it on the table.
“I wore this because my father gave it to me when I took over the company,” he said. “I was told it had belonged to my grandfather.”
The detective photographed it from several angles.
“The watch in the old photograph appears similar, but we need a higher-resolution scan before drawing conclusions.”
Roberto nodded.
“Take it.”
I looked at him. “You don’t have to surrender every personal thing just because someone asks a question.”
“If it helps establish the truth, I do.”
The watch was sent to a forensic specialist. Meanwhile, the investigators discovered that the original Pier 14 report had been amended three times. Each amendment had removed a detail about the warehouse’s electrical system, the night supervisor’s movements, and the presence of an unidentified vehicle.
The final amendment had been approved by Thomas Bell’s office.
But Bell had not signed it.
His assistant had.
Evelyn Shaw.
Evelyn had retired to a small town in Wisconsin and was living under her married name. When contacted by investigators, she initially denied remembering anything about Pier 14. After being shown the documents, she agreed to an interview.
She arrived at the station with a cane and a thick folder.
“I was twenty-four,” she said. “I typed what I was told to type. I thought the warehouse fire was an accident.”
“Who told you to amend the report?” the detective asked.
“Mr. Bell.”
“Did you see him order the fire?”
“No.”
“Did he mention who was responsible?”
Evelyn opened the folder.
“He told me that if the police discovered the warehouse had been cleared of records the previous afternoon, the entire company would collapse. He said the men responsible would take everyone down with them.”
“Who were the men responsible?”
“I only knew one name.”
She slid a handwritten note across the table.
Adrian Vale Sr.
The same man whose son had later become Roberto’s financial adviser.
Evelyn explained that Adrian’s father had arranged the false invoices and hired contractors to move equipment out of the warehouse before the fire. But she had never learned who gave the final order.
“Mr. Bell told me it came from the top,” she said. “He said the family had decided the warehouse was more valuable burned than searched.”
“Which family member?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Vittorio Moretti.”
Roberto’s face went pale.
“Then my father ordered the fire.”
“Possibly,” the detective replied. “But we still need corroboration.”
The watch report arrived two days later. The engraving on the back matched a serial number recorded in a private insurance policy issued to Vittorio Moretti. The photograph from Pier 14 showed the same watch on a man whose face was not visible.
It proved the watch had been present.
It did not prove who wore it.
Roberto sat beside me in the conference room, staring at the report.
“I spent my life believing my father was a hard man who did what he had to do,” he said. “I never asked what ‘had to’ meant.”
I thought of my own excuses. The canceled trips. The nights he never came home. The papers I signed without reading.
“We all have stories that make it easier not to ask questions,” I said. “The important thing is what we do after the questions arrive.”
He looked at me.
“Is there any chance you could ever trust me again?”
I did not answer immediately.
“Trust is not a door you can knock on and expect to open. It’s a house you build, one honest choice at a time.”
He accepted that without complaint.
Then the detective entered with an urgent update.
“Vittorio’s travel records have been located. He is not in Switzerland anymore.”
“Where is he?” Roberto asked.
The detective placed a photograph on the table.
Vittorio stood outside a private hangar in Indiana.
Beside him was Adrian Vale.
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And behind them, unmistakably visible through the open hangar door, was a second man.
Gabriel Moretti.
