Chapter 4: The Truth Vasko Refused to Hear
Vasko reached for the envelope, but his fingers would not close around it.
Claire picked it up.
“You recognize the writing?”
“Yes.”
“Then open it.”
Adrian moved toward the lobby doors.
Mrs.
Bell rolled the cleaning cart into his path.
“Going somewhere, Mr.
Cole?”
“I’m calling the owner.”
“Use the desk telephone,” Vasko said.
“Stay where I can see you.”
Adrian folded his arms.
“This is absurd.”
Claire broke the seal.
A brass locker key and a page of music slid onto the piano.
Zeke touched the notes.
“Dad wrote these.”
“How can you tell?” Vasko asked.
“He used to draw a tiny bird beside music he loved.”
A small bird rested in the corner of the page.
Vasko pressed his thumb over it.
“I taught him that mark.”
Claire looked directly at him.
“Then tell Zeke why his father never brought him to meet you.”
Vasko removed his glasses.
“I accused Elias of taking money from my concert foundation.”
“Did he?”
“I believed documents Adrian showed me.”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“No,” Vasko said.
“I don’t know.”
Adrian struck the reception bell with his palm.
Its sharp ring made Zeke flinch.
“You know enough.
Elias signed the transfers.”
“I saw copies,” Vasko replied.
“Never the originals.”
“Because he took them when he ran.”
Claire pushed the music page toward Adrian.
“Elias didn’t run.
He worked nights repairing instruments.
He came home with cracked hands and still played for Zeke before bed.”
“He was hiding from what he did.”
“He was saving for a train ticket.”
Vasko looked up.
“A ticket to where?”
“To your final London concert.” Claire’s voice broke.
“He carried it in his wallet for three months.
He wanted Zeke to hear his grandfather play.”
Zeke lowered his head.
“Dad said the man in the red pocket square could make a piano sound like someone coming home.”
Vasko gripped the bench.
Claire turned away, but Adrian spoke over her shoulder.
“Did Elias also tell you his father refused every letter?”
Claire faced Vasko again.
“Is that true?”
“I never received a letter.”
“I mailed twelve.”
Adrian’s eyes shifted toward the service corridor.
Vasko saw it.
“Where did they go?”
“Perhaps Elias lied to her too.”
Mrs.
Bell opened a drawer behind reception and placed a yellowed envelope on the piano.
“One came here eight years ago.
Mr.
Cole told me it was personal correspondence and ordered me to return it.”
Claire recognized the writing and covered her mouth.
“You kept it?” Adrian demanded.
“I found it in the rubbish after you left.”
Claire unfolded the letter.
Zeke leaned against her side while she read.
“Father, I did not take from you.
Ask Adrian why the foundation account was opened under his mother’s surname.”
Adrian snatched for the page, but Vasko caught his arm.
“What account?”
“It was closed years ago.”
“That was not my question.”
Adrian jerked free.
“You chose me to manage the foundation because Elias was unreliable.
Don’t rewrite history because a child drew on your piano.”
Claire’s knees buckled against the bench.
“You kept Elias away.
He waited for an answer until his last winter.”
Zeke wrapped both arms around her waist.
“Mom, please don’t cry.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Mrs.
Bell knelt beside them and offered Claire a handkerchief.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
Vasko stared at Adrian.
“My son left believing I hated him.”
“You did hate him,” Adrian replied.
“I only made it easier.”
Vasko took one step toward him.
“Why?”
“Because you heard music when Elias entered a room.
When I entered, you heard an interruption.”
The lobby doors opened, and two security officers came in.
Adrian pointed at Claire, Mrs.
Bell, and the open piano bench.
“Remove them.
They have stolen private property.”
The older officer hesitated.
“Mrs.
Bell too?”
“All of them.”
A calm voice came from behind the officers.
“No one is being removed from my hotel.”
Margaret Hales, the hotel’s owner, walked into the lobby carrying a leather folder.
She set it beside Elias’s letter and looked at Adrian.
May you like
“The bank called me ten minutes ago,” she said.
“Someone just tried to empty the Vasko Foundation account.”
