𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝙾𝚝𝚒𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚜 | ONC 2024

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚎𝚗

Paola Castellano stalked down the winding staircase and across the foyer to the large, luxurious parlor, her comely face contorted into something terrifying. She hissed a series of curses in Italian as she walked. This lack of action was making her crazy. Castellanos did not sit on their thumbs when faced with trouble. They did something about it. They acted.

The family's portly housekeeper rounded the corner, joining Paola in the parlor. She was as unattractive as she was efficient, their housekeeper, and for that very combination of reasons Paola had kept her on for years. No sense having staff members her husband might want to bed behind her back.

“Signora,” the housekeeper said. “This arrived for you.”

“Arrived? For me?” Paola repeated. “What did?”

The housekeeper handed her a crisp white envelope. “This letter. It came via courier, not the regular post.”

“Hm. Yes. Grazie,” Paola thanked her.

“Signora,” the housekeeper said. She dipped her head, then retreated from the room.

Alone, Paola turned the envelope over and inspected the back. No stamps, nor any other markings from the post office. This had been delivered by a private messenger service. How odd. If the message was urgent, why had the sender not simply rang on the telephone?

The words For Signora Paola Castellano were written across the back of the envelope in beautiful, looping calligraphy. Paola didn't recognize the penmanship.

Curiosity piqued, she tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of stationery, folded into thirds. The header at the top of the stationery read: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐳 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥.

Her heart rate quickened, and she read the letter through narrowed eyes.

Dear Mrs. Castellano ~

Please forgive the oddity and blunt address of this correspondence.

I'm sure the actions of Camilla Otis are weighing heavily on your mind and causing you great distress.

It may interest you to know that her husband is refusing to pay her bail. Which means she will remain incarcerated, and out of reach, at the police station until her trial.

That is, unless her bail were to be satisfied by another party. The cost is significant for most, but pennies for a wealthy woman such as yourself.

Just something to consider.

Sincerely,
A Friend

Paola's breathing grew ragged and her free hand balled into a fist. If Camilla Otis was stuck in her holding cell until the trial, it meant she had around-the-clock police protection. She would be untouchable.

With an indignant huff, Paola recalled her husband's foreboding words from their argument the day of Mario's death: “You kill her inside the police station, Paola, and even my connections cannot save you. You want revenge? Fine. Get revenge. But don't be stupid about it.”

Don't be stupid? Very well, she wouldn't be stupid. She'd play the game. And it seemed this mysterious ‘friend’ was telling her exactly how to play it smart.

A cold smile curled the corners of Paola's lips, and she left the parlor in search of her driver. She needed to drop by one of her family's dry cleaning fronts to visit the hidden safe in the office. It was time to make a sizable withdrawal.

༺ ○ ༻

The relief Elena felt in disclosing the truth to Oficiales Marlowe and Spade couldn't be expressed in a simple word. Not an English word, anyway, and as English was Elena's second language, she had no desire to waste precious time searching for an accurate term to describe her current emotional state. There was too much to do.