I tucked it flat against my stomach, pulling the band of my white apron tight over it to hold it in place.

Santo stopped walking, his flashlight beam pausing on a pile of old linens near the stairs.

He was standing close enough that I could hear the wet rhythm of his breathing.

Then, the sharp, electronic chirp of a cell phone broke the silence.

Santo grunted and reached into his heavy coat pocket.

He answered the call, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

“Yeah?” Santo said.

He listened for a moment, his boots shifting on the concrete.

“No, I haven’t found the ledger yet,” Santo said. “The old woman is down here somewhere, but the basement is full of junk.”

The voice on the other end of the line was faint, but I recognized the smooth, impatient tone.

It was Luca.

“Forget the ledger for five minutes,” Luca said through the phone’s speaker, his voice leaking into the quiet cellar.

“Get up to the study,” Luca ordered. “Marcus is being difficult.”

“Did he sign the papers?” Santo asked.