Chapter 5 - The Blue Book
Josie did not remember crossing the coffee shop.
One second she was standing beside the fallen chair.
The next she was on the sidewalk with Priscilla behind her and Luca on speakerphone.
“Police first,” Luca said.
“I already called them.”
“Good.”
“I’m going home.”
“Wait for officers.”
“My son is there.”
“So is Hattie.”
“That is not the argument you think it is.”
He exhaled.
“Fine. I’m ten minutes away.”
“I did not ask you to come.”
“I know.”
Josie almost argued.
Then stopped.
She wanted him there.
Wanting help was not surrender.
That lesson was taking longer than she liked.
When she reached the block, a patrol car was already outside.
Mrs. Hattie stood in the doorway holding a cast-iron skillet.
Toby was behind her, pale and furious.
“I told him Grandma’s dead,” he announced.
Josie dropped to her knees and hugged him.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Hattie?”
The older woman lifted the skillet.
“He valued his future.”
The man had left before police arrived.
A neighbor’s door camera caught him.
Baseball cap.
Gray jacket.
Face visible for two seconds.
Luca arrived while the officer was taking Josie’s statement.
He did not interrupt.
He stood near the curb with a large man Josie had seen once on the executive floor.
When the officer finished, Luca approached.
“Toby?”
“This is my son.”
Toby looked up.
“You’re my mom’s boss.”
“Yes.”
“Are you rich?”
Josie closed her eyes.
“Toby.”
“What? Rich people know they’re rich.”
Luca considered.
“Yes.”
“Do you have two-flavor ice cream?”
“Probably.”
“Good.”
Josie pointed toward the apartment.
“Inside.”
Toby went.
Luca looked at her.
“He’s excellent.”
“He’s eight.”
“Same thing.”
Mrs. Hattie called from the doorway.
“You Relli?”
Luca straightened.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She looked him up and down.
“You look like your father.”
His expression changed.
Josie stared.
“You knew his father?”
Hattie shrugged.
“Everybody who worked Atlantic Avenue knew Sal Relli.”
“Hattie.”
“What?”
“You never mentioned that.”
“You never asked whether I knew handsome criminals.”
Luca coughed.
Josie put a hand over her face.
Inside, Hattie made tea while the police report number sat on the kitchen table.
Josie explained the blue book.
Hattie went quiet.
Too quiet.
Josie noticed.
“Hattie.”
The older woman stared at her cup.
“Your mother gave me something before she went into hospice.”
Josie’s chest tightened.
“What?”
“A recipe book.”
“What color?”
Hattie closed her eyes.
“Blue.”
Josie stood.
“Where is it?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
They crossed the hall.
Hattie opened a cabinet beneath her sink and removed a dented blue binder wrapped in a grocery bag.
“This?”
Josie took it.
Her mother’s handwriting covered the first page.
MEATLOAF.
LEMON PIE.
DINER BISCUITS.
Toby leaned over her arm.
“Grandma had bad handwriting.”
“Respect the dead,” Hattie said.
Josie turned pages.
Recipes.
Shopping lists.
Then halfway through, the content changed.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Table numbers.
Men’s initials.
S.R.
A.R.
V.C.
Hospital names.
Beside some names, her mother had drawn small hearts.
Luca stood very still.
“She kept records.”
Josie looked at him.
“Of what?”
“My father’s meetings.”
“Why?”
Hattie answered.
“Because Miriam heard something she didn’t like.”
Everyone turned.
“She came home one night furious,” Hattie said. “Said men at the blue booth were arguing about donations. One man said charity was easiest money in the world because poor people were grateful for whatever they got.”
Josie’s stomach turned.
“Adrian?”
“I didn’t know his name.”
Luca took out his phone and showed her an old company photo.
Hattie pointed.
“Him.”
Adrian.
Toby leaned against Josie.
She closed the binder.
“This started years ago.”
Luca nodded.
“My father may have found out.”
“Your father wrote that my mother had the real list.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he stop Adrian?”
Luca’s face tightened.
“I don’t know.”
That answer made him angry at himself.
Josie understood that.
They spent the afternoon scanning the binder with outside counsel present.
The dates went back thirteen years.
At first, the amounts were small.
Five thousand.
Twelve.
Twenty.
Then larger.
Medical foundation grants redirected into consulting fees.
Community clinics billed for events they never held.
Not enough to bankrupt anything.
Enough to disappear inside generosity.
Miriam had written notes in the margins.
THEY THINK NOBODY CHECKS.
ASK SAL WHY ADRIAN SIGNS.
ONE CHILD TURNED AWAY TODAY.
Josie stared at that sentence.
One child.
Thirteen years ago.
Someone else’s Toby.
Her eyes burned.
Then she found a folded envelope inside the back cover.
Addressed to Josephine.
Her mother’s handwriting.
Josie’s hands shook.
She opened it.
Jo,
If you ever need this book, then I failed to finish what I started.
Josie stopped.
Hattie sat beside her.
“Read.”
She continued.
Sal Relli promised me he would close the hole and pay back every dollar. I believed him because I wanted to believe a powerful man could be ashamed enough to change. Then he died.
Luca looked away.
Josie read on.
Adrian knows I kept copies. He does not know where. Do not give this to police without a lawyer who does not owe anyone in that family.
Josie looked at Luca.
He met her gaze.
No defensiveness.
Good.
The final line hurt worst.
I did not tell you because you had already spent too much of your childhood watching me fight people with more money than us. I wanted one thing in your life to be ordinary.
Josie cried.
Not loudly.
Toby climbed into her lap, too big for it and exactly the right size.
“Grandma was sneaky,” he whispered.
Josie laughed through tears.
“Yes.”
The doorbell rang.
Every adult in the room froze.
Luca’s security man checked the peephole.
No one.
On the floor outside was a white envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Miriam Whitaker in her diner uniform.
Salvatore Relli at the blue booth.
Adrian standing behind them.
On the back:
YOUR MOTHER TOOK MORE THAN NOTES.
Josie looked at Luca.
“What did she take?”
He stared at the photograph.
Then said, “I think I know.”
He reached for his phone.
“My father had a safety-deposit key disappear the week before he died.”
Josie’s stomach dropped.
“What was in the box?”
Luca looked at the blue binder.
“The original account ledger.”
“And if my mother took it?”
“Then the blue book is only the map.”
May you like
He met her eyes.
“The thing Adrian is afraid of could prove every dollar he stole.”
