Chapter 6 - The Poisoner's Trap
The kapo meeting ended in an uneasy stalemate, but the air inside the Rossy estate remained charged with electric tension.
As the heavy SUVs rolled down the driveway, leaving the estate grounds, Vincent returned to his master study. The effort of maintaining a formidable front for two hours had drained his limited physical reserves. He collapsed into his leather armchair, breathing heavily, his skin pale once more, though he suffered no nausea.
A quiet knock sounded at the door.
"Enter," Vincent rasped.
Norah stepped into the room, holding a small tray with a mug of steaming ginger tea infused with honey and lemon.
"You should rest," Norah said softly, setting the mug on his desk. "Your body spent a lot of energy pretending you were entirely healed today."
Vincent looked up at her, a bitter, self-deprecating smile touching his lips. "Pretending? Is it that obvious?"
"To them? No," Norah said, taking a step back. "To someone who spends her life watching people? Yes. You were holding your breath every time you swallowed to keep your chest muscles from spasming."
Vincent stared at her, genuinely surprised by her keen observation. "You notice a lot for a cleaner, Miss Bennett."
"When you grow up around dangerous people, paying attention to body language keeps you alive," Norah replied simply. "And speaking of paying attention... Marcone didn't touch his food today."
Vincent’s dark eyes sharpened instantly. "What did you say?"
"Marcone," Norah repeated. "Every other man at that table ate at least half their plate. Marcone picked at a piece of green bean and pushed his chicken around. He was watching you eat, but he refused to let a single bite enter his own mouth."
Vincent leaned forward, his exhaustion instantly replaced by cold, razor-sharp focus. "He thought the food was poisoned," Vincent realized, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "He thought I was going to pull a trick and poison him at my own table."
"Or," Norah added hesitantly, "he thought whoever he paid inside this house had already poisoned the food."
Vincent stood up so fast his chair rolled back into the bookshelf. "Enzo!" he roared.
The heavy study doors burst open immediately, Enzo rushing in with his hand on his gun. "Boss?"
"Lock down the kitchen," Vincent commanded, his voice cold as liquid nitrogen. "No one enters, no one leaves. Bring Marco, Lev, and every member of the domestic staff to the basement. Now!"
Ten minutes later, Norah stood in the dimly lit concrete basement beneath the estate.
The entire domestic staff—three housekeepers, two groundskeepers, and the two security inspectors, Marco and Lev—stood lined up against the cold wall. Armed guards flanked the room, their weapons held at low ready.
Vincent walked slowly down the line, leaning lightly on a dark cane he rarely used in public. The terrifying authority radiating from his emaciated frame made several housekeepers weep quietly in fear.
"Six months ago, someone put heavy metals in my coffee," Vincent said, his voice echoing off the damp concrete walls. "Today, a man sat at my table expecting me to fall dead over my plate. That means someone in this house is still taking payments from Salvatore Marcone."
Vincent stopped right in front of Marco—the guard responsible for testing the raw ingredients entering the kitchen.
Marco’s face was soaked in sweat. His eyes darted frantically toward the exit.
"Marco," Vincent said softly. "You tested the ingredients Miss Bennett used today, correct?"
"Y-yes, boss!" Marco stammered, his voice high-pitched with terror. "Every item! The chicken, the vegetables, the salt! Everything passed the chemical sweep!"
Norah stepped forward slightly from behind Enzo. "Wait," she said quietly.
Vincent turned his head. "Speak, Norah."
"This morning, when Marco was testing the salt," Norah remembered, her mind racing back to the morning prep, "he didn't use the digital sensor on the sea salt container. He brought out his own small porcelain salt cellar and told me to use it because it was 'higher quality' for the kapo lunch."
Vincent turned his icy gaze back to Marco.
Marco broke. He reached frantically into his jacket pocket, pulling a small silver utensil, but Enzo was faster. Enzo slammed his heavy fist into Marco’s jaw, knocking him to the concrete floor, kicking the fallen weapon across the room.
Two guards pinned Marco to the floor, pulling a small glass vial filled with fine white powder from his inner pocket.
"Thallium acetate," Lev whispered, checking the chemical composition on his handheld scanner. "Odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in salt. It wouldn't show up on a basic organic sweep without specific spectrometry."
Vincent looked down at Marco with absolute, merciless disdain.
"Marcone paid you well, I assume?" Vincent asked quietly.
"Please, boss!" Marco wept, blood pouring from his broken mouth. "He threatened my family! He said he'd kill my daughter if I didn't finish the job!"
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Vincent turned his back on the crying man, looking directly at Norah. Her face was pale, her hands shaking, but she stood her ground.
"You saved my life again, Miss Bennett," Vincent said softly. "Enzo... clean this up. And prepare the cars. We are going to pay Salvatore Marcone a visit."
