Chapter 6 - Judgment in the Cellar
Fifty feet beneath the grand estate, the air was cold, damp, and smelled of ancient earth and oak barrels.
The wine cellar was a massive underground cavern, lit only by dim, amber wall sconces. In the center of the concrete floor, tied securely to a heavy iron chair, sat a man in a rumpled gray suit.
His lip was split, his nose bleeding, and his camera bag lay crushed on the stone floor beside him.
The heavy steel door at the top of the stairs creaked open.
Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed down the stone steps. Alessandro Moretti descended into the gloom, removing his gold wristwatch and placing it carefully on a oak wine barrel. Richard Hale followed close behind, holding a thick leather folder.
The private investigator struggled against his ropes, his eyes wide with blind panic. “Listen to me! You can’t do this! I’m a licensed investigator! I was hired by a client!”
Alessandro didn't answer. He walked over to a small table, poured himself two fingers of scotch from a crystal decanter, and took a slow sip.
“Who hired you?” Alessandro asked, his voice smooth, almost conversational.
“I have client-attorney privilege!” the man yelled.
Alessandro nodded slowly. He didn't raise his voice. He simply looked at Richard.
Richard stepped forward, grabbed the investigator’s left hand, spread his fingers across the cold iron armrest, and placed the heavy steel heel of his tactical boot directly over the man’s pinky finger.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Alessandro said quietly, setting his glass down. “Who hired you?”
“Marcus! Marcus Vance!” the investigator shrieked, sweating profusely, tears cutting clean lines through the dirt on his face. “He paid me five thousand dollars to track down Elena Carter! He said she stole his daughter!”
“She isn't his daughter,” Alessandro corrected coldly. “Where is Vance right now?”
“He’s at a diner two miles down the highway!” the man sobbed, his courage completely evaporating. “He’s waiting for my call! He has three guys with him—local muscle from the south side!”
Alessandro walked up to the bound man, leaning down until his dark eyes were inches from the investigator’s face.
“You’re going to call him,” Alessandro whispered. “You’re going to tell him that Elena Carter is working as a night maid here. You’re going to tell him that the security at the east service gate is weak between 2:00 AM and 3:00 AM.”
The investigator blinked, utterly confused. “What? You... you want me to bring him here?”
“I want him to try,” Alessandro said, a terrifying, beautiful smile spreading across his face. “I want him to believe he’s clever. I want him to enter my home with murder in his heart.”
Alessandro straightened up, picking up his scotch.
“Because when a rat walks into a trap, no one questions why the trap snapped shut.”
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He turned toward the stairs, looking over his shoulder at Richard.
“Set the stage, Richard. Let’s welcome Mr. Vance to the Moretti estate.”
