Page 27 of The Voicemail

“I swear I don’t know more. I just know Bianchi wanted Tomaso to watch her.”

The knife shifts half an inch.

“I swear,” he says quickly. “I swear to God, I don’t know. Something about the gallery. Some shipment. Tomaso said she touched something she shouldn’t have touched.”

“The Marchesi crate.”

Dario’s face gives him away before he says anything.

Luca notices, too.

“What was in it?” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

I believe him, which only irritates me.

“How did he get into her apartment?”

Dario blinks too fast. A dead giveaway that he knows more than he’s letting on. I look up at Luca, who tightens his grip on Dario’s wrist.

“I don’t know,” Dario says.

I press the blade flat against his skin, not cutting yet. “Try again.”

Dario starts breathing through his mouth. “He had someone in the building.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know the name. Maintenance guy, maybe. Super’s cousin. Someone who does odd jobs. Tomaso paid him once to get into the mailboxes.”

“When?”

“Months ago.”

My jaw tightens.

Months.

“He’s had access to her building for months?”

“I guess.”

“You guess?” I snap.

Dario flinches. “Yes. Yeah.”

“And after my men changed the locks?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the guy still had access to the service door. Maybe Tomaso was already inside before your men started watching. I don’t know.”

“Why has he been sending her flowers?” I ask.

Dario says nothing. Luca tightens his grip.

“Tomaso went off script,” Dario blurts. “That’s all I know.”

“Meaning?”