Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITHOUT WINDOWS
Vittorio Rinaldi lived in a mansion surrounded by iron gates and carefully trimmed hedges.
The house stood outside Chicago, on a private stretch of land bordered by woods.
Its windows were covered with heavy curtains.
Its rooms were filled with paintings, sculptures, clocks, and antique glass.
Matteo had avoided the property for years.
He blamed his uncle for bringing Enzo into a dangerous business.
Vittorio blamed Matteo for failing to protect his brother.
Their relationship had become a cold exchange of legal notices and occasional appearances at family funerals.
Now Matteo stood outside the house with Luca Ferraro, his longtime security adviser.
Luca was broad-shouldered, gray-haired, and almost impossible to impress.
"You know this is a bad idea," Luca said.
Matteo adjusted his coat.
"Probably."
"We could let the investigators handle it."
"They are handling the criminal investigation."
"Then why are we here?"
"Because my uncle invited me."
Luca sighed.
"That usually means trouble."
Matteo almost smiled.
A housekeeper admitted them.
Vittorio waited in a long gallery surrounded by glass display cases.
He was seventy-one, thin, silver-haired, and dressed in a velvet smoking jacket.
"Matteo," he said warmly.
"Uncle."
Vittorio looked toward Luca.
"Still traveling with bodyguards?"
"Still collecting dead men's possessions?"
The older man's smile faded.
"Charming as always."
Matteo approached a display case.
Inside sat six glass birds.
Blue.
Amber.
Green.
Clear.
Each slightly different.
"Where did you get these?"
Vittorio followed his gaze.
"From various artists."
"One was made by Lily Whitaker."
A pause.
Vittorio's face remained composed.
"Perhaps."
"She disappeared while working for you."
"A tragedy."
"My brother died that same night."
"Another tragedy."
Matteo turned.
"That's a lot of tragedy for one building."
Vittorio sighed.
"You're still obsessed with the past."
"People died."
"People die every day, Matteo."
Luca shifted near the doorway.
Matteo kept his voice calm.
"Russell Keegan commissioned a blue bird."
Vittorio's eyes narrowed.
"Where did you hear that?"
"Old inventory."
"Those records are private."
"Not anymore."
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Vittorio smiled.
"Ah. The Whitaker girl."
Matteo went still.
"What?"
"Chloe. Isn't that her name?"
Matteo's expression hardened.
"How do you know about her?"
Vittorio laughed softly.
"Chicago is a small city when one knows the right people."
"Leave her alone."
The older man studied him.
"You're becoming sentimental."
Matteo looked toward the glass birds.
"Where is Lily?"
Vittorio's smile vanished.
"I don't know."
"Do you know whether she's alive?"
"No."
Matteo took a step closer.
"Then why did Russell Keegan spend seven years searching for something she made?"
Vittorio's eyes flickered.
Only once.
But Matteo noticed.
The older man approached a cabinet and poured himself a drink.
"Your brother always asked too many questions."
The words chilled the room.
Matteo stared.
"What did you say?"
"Enzo was curious. He wanted to understand how everything worked."
Matteo's voice dropped.
"That curiosity got him killed?"
Vittorio didn't answer.
Instead, he raised his glass.
"Be careful, nephew. Sometimes the truth destroys the people who pursue it."
Matteo looked at him.
Then said quietly, "Sometimes it destroys the people hiding it."
He turned and left.
Outside, Luca exhaled.
"Well, that went beautifully."
Matteo stopped near the car.
"Did you notice the empty display case?"
Luca frowned.
"What empty case?"
"Third row. Center."
"Yes."
"There was a label beneath it."
"What did it say?"
Matteo looked toward the mansion.
THE NIGHTINGALE – PRIVATE COMMISSION, 2019.
He had seen that name before.
On a postcard sent after Lily disappeared.
The bird in the glass remembers.
Now he understood the message might not refer to a single object.
It might refer to an entire collection.
May you like
And someone had removed its most important piece.
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