| Mystery and Crime Fiction posted January 9, 2025 | Chapters: |
...4 5 -6- 7... 
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Tangled Webs We Weave
A chapter in the book Veil of Secrets
Veil of Secrets Chap 6
by Begin Again
The last few rays of the setting sun glimmered across the horizon as Grayson stoked the fire in the stone fireplace. The flames mesmerized him as he swirled the amber liquid in his highball glass. The faint scent of lavender clung to his shirt. He inhaled and sighed, unable to stop his lips from whispering her name. "Rebecca."
He closed his eyes, reliving the moment when her tearful eyes had met his, her voice trembling as she'd thanked him. The memory expanded in his mind, painting a picture of what could be. He felt the heat rise in his loins as he imagined her moaning beneath him as he pleasured himself. Her soft flesh would become his playground, where his every need would be satisfied. His future — master of both estates — building an empire greater than Cornelius Webb could have ever imagined.
As his mind wandered, he imagined her smile greeting him at the end of a long day, a life heralding his ambition yet establishing him as a dignified aristocrat, respected and worshiped, especially by his wife behind closed doors.
Rebecca's vulnerability had stirred something in him, something unexpected. Instead of merely wanting to find the forgotten treasures, he wanted to claim the power that would put the entire countryside at his feet and her in his bed.
Grayson's lips curled into a smirk as the room grew colder, the flickering firelight casting shadows that danced against the walls. He took another slow sip of his drink, savoring the smoky burn as he stared into the flames. The chill gnawed at the edges of his awareness, but he brushed it aside, too immersed in his thoughts of conquest to care.
Finishing his drink, he stood and took the poker to stir the logs. Feeling the cold settling around him, he muttered, "Darn howling wind. It's almost as if the window is open." He tugged the heavy drapes aside, revealing the securely latched window. His frown deepened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "Ridiculous! Drafty old house." Desiring the warmth of his liquor, he poured another.
"Yes, it is ridiculous, but it's not the house I refer to," Cornelius snapped. "It appears the lawyers scraped the bottom of the barrel to find someone to inherit my home."
Grayson spun on his heel, his eyes narrowing at the tall figure emerging from the shadows. The man's dark coat billowed slightly as though stirred by an unseen wind, and his piercing gaze carried an unsettling weight.
"Who the hell are you?" Grayson demanded, his voice dripping with disdain. "And how did you get in here?"
The figure stepped closer, his movements deliberate and confident. "I'm someone you should respect, young man. I am Cornelius Webb," he said with a sly smile, "and you are trespassing on my legacy."
Grayson barked a laugh, setting his glass down with deliberate precision. "Cornelius Webb, the dead uncle? Forgive me if I'm unimpressed. You might have been someone once, but now, you're just a ghost. A whisper of a man who failed to finish the job."
Cornelius's smile remained, though a cold edge sharpened his features. "You speak with the confidence of a man who believes he is in control. Tell me, Grayson, what do you truly understand of the game you've stepped into?"
Grayson crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "Enough to know you couldn't win it while you were alive. What makes you think you can stop me now? Rebecca's vineyard, the treasures —it's all within my grasp. I'll take it and build an empire that will make your pathetic ambitions look like a children's fairy tale."
Cornelius's gaze darkened, the air thickening around them as the shadows seemed to close in. "Ambition without understanding is a fool's errand. Do you think you're the first to dream of power, to see these estates as stepping stones to greatness? Men like you have come and gone, their bones buried in the very tunnels they sought to control. I'd be happy to introduce you to them sometime." His evil laugh reverberated through the room.
Grayson stepped forward, his arrogance unshaken. "I'm not like the others. I have the intelligence, the drive, and the vision to finish what you couldn't. You're nothing more than an obstacle — a relic."
Cornelius's smirk disappeared, replaced by a glare that cut through the room's chill. "Your arrogance will be your undoing, boy. You may see yourself as a king, but you are little more than a pawn in a game far older than you. The treasures of this land come at a price, and I wonder if you're willing to pay it."
Grayson's voice dropped to a low growl. "I don't need your approval, and I certainly don't need your warnings. Stay out of my way, Cornelius, or I'll make sure you regret it — even in death."
Cornelius's form seemed to swell, the shadows deepening as his voice turned icy. "I regret nothing. Least of all, creating the means for my legacy to endure. You'll see, Grayson. This land has a way of devouring men like you. And when it does, I'll be there to reclaim what is mine."
The temperature plummeted further as Cornelius dissolved into the darkness, his laughter echoing faintly in his wake. Grayson stood still, his chest heaving as he fought to quell the chill gnawing at his resolve.
"Reclaim what's yours?" Grayson muttered, his lips twisting into a sneer. "We'll see who claims what."
He drained the rest of his drink in a single gulp, his mind spinning with plans to outwit Rebecca and her spectral protector. Whatever Cornelius thought he controlled, Grayson was determined to make it his own — no matter the cost. He held an Ace that no one knew about and wouldn't until he was ready to reveal it.
*****
A forgotten rundown motel, Restful Nights, sat at the edge of Bayside city limits, a relic of another time. Nearly forgotten since the new highway rerouted travelers miles away. Its faded sign, boasting "Comfort & Privacy," flickered erratically, the "o" in "Comfort" long since burned out. A neon "No Vacancy" sign blinked on and off, though only two cars sat in the cracked asphalt parking lot. One was a rusting sedan belonging to the owner, its rear bumper sagging to one side. The other — a car with New York plates — belonged to Althea Cascio, scared and confused. The mob knew where she was and why, but no one else did.
A forgotten rundown motel, Restful Nights, sat at the edge of Bayside city limits, a relic of another time. Nearly forgotten since the new highway rerouted travelers miles away. Its faded sign, boasting "Comfort & Privacy," flickered erratically, the "o" in "Comfort" long since burned out. A neon "No Vacancy" sign blinked on and off, though only two cars sat in the cracked asphalt parking lot. One was a rusting sedan belonging to the owner, its rear bumper sagging to one side. The other — a car with New York plates — belonged to Althea Cascio, scared and confused. The mob knew where she was and why, but no one else did.
A biting wind whipped through the barren lot, rattling the loose siding on the motel's exterior. Paint peeled from the doors, revealing gray wood beneath, and a lone porch light buzzed faintly, attracting a halo of moths.
The motel room was suffocating — the thin, peeling wallpaper pressing in on her like a vice. Faint water stains bled across the ceiling. The air smelled of mildew and stale cigarettes, clinging to every surface like an unwanted guest.
A Formica table stood crookedly in the corner, its legs uneven on the worn carpet. On its surface sat a crumpled newspaper featuring Travis's photo under the bold headline: Missing Boy Still Not Found. Another picture displayed a scrap of paper with the hastily scrawled words, "I've been kidnapped." Police had nothing to verify or deny it, but on the side of precaution, the newspaper released the photo and note.
Althea hadn't written the note — it had come with the threat from the mob — but she couldn't bring herself to throw it away. It was a cruel reminder of the stakes.
Scuffed and held together by fraying straps, her suitcase sat open near the bed, its contents spilling out — a tangle of worn clothing mixed with a grocery bag containing a loaf of white bread, an opened pack of bologna, and a few empty water bottles. She'd tried to eat earlier but couldn't stomach more than a bite.
The bed itself was no better. The mattress sagged in the middle, the thin quilt stained and faded. Althea sat at the edge, her body hunched, as though the weight of her thoughts had crushed her down. Her hands trembled as she spread the forged will and birth certificate across her lap, the stark black letters leaping off the page at her.
Her son's face flashed in her mind, his curious brown eyes and how he'd cling to her when he was scared. Travis. The thought of his tiny hands reaching out for her, terrified and alone, nearly made her collapse. She'd do anything to get him back — anything. But at what cost?
She picked up the birth certificate, staring at the names printed neatly on the faded paper: Mason Webb and Angela Cascio — her parents. She felt like she was looking at someone else's life and lineage. Cornelius Webb was her grandfather. The man she'd grown up hearing whispers about — ruthless, cold, and cunning. And now, through no fault of her own, she was tied to his legacy, trapped in a game she didn't even know she was playing.
Her gaze shifted to the will. Its neatly forged lines declared her the rightful heir to a portion of the Vineyard. She knew it wasn't real — just another tool the mob had crafted to use her like a pawn. But could she even use it? Could she stand in front of a lawyer, a judge, or Rebecca herself and claim a heritage that came at the cost of her son's freedom?
The burner phone, a gift from Tony "The Hawk," sat on the bedside table. A lawyer's name and number were saved in her contacts. She picked it up, her thumb hovering over the call button. What would she even say? The words formed and crumbled in her mind like dry leaves.
"I'm Althea Cascio. I — I believe I'm entitled to a portion of land called The Vineyard. My birth certificate —" She stopped, her voice breaking in the silence. That wouldn't work. The lawyer would ask questions — questions she couldn't answer without exposing the mob's role or her desperation to find Travis.
She tried again, her voice firmer this time. "My name is Althea Cascio. I have documents proving my connection to The Vineyard. I must speak with someone about protecting my rights — and my son." Her throat tightened, tears threatening to spill over. How could she ask for help without giving too much away? How could she trust a stranger with something this dangerous?
Her thoughts spiraled. She imagined sitting across from the lawyer, sliding the papers across the desk, and seeing the skepticism in his eyes. What if he reported her? What if the police came before she had a chance to save Travis? She had been warned about police involvement. She would never see her son again.
But then, her son's voice echoed in her mind — soft, frightened. "Mommy, I want to come home?" Her heart clenched, and she straightened, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now.
She picked up the phone again and stared at the screen. This time, she pressed the call button, the dial tone ringing in her ears like a countdown to her fate.
A voice answered. "Henderson & Co. Law Offices. How can I assist you?"
Althea swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. "My name is Althea Cascio. I — I need legal counsel regarding an inheritance. It's urgent."
The receptionist's voice was polite but brisk. "I have an opening with Mr. Henderson. Are you available for a consultation tomorrow morning at 9?"
Althea hesitated, her hand tightening around the phone. "Yes," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tomorrow morning at 9."
As the call ended, Althea set the phone down and stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror across the room. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow, but there was a flicker of resolve there, too. For Travis, she'd face whatever came next. Lawyer, mob, or law enforcement — she had no choice but to step into the storm.
Eleanor Bennett- ghost detective
Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
Miriam Cascio - a spirit from days gone by
Antonio Maggio - deceased grandfather of Rebecca and Miriam's first love
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Cornelius Webb - deceased and responsible for hanging Miriam long ago
Grayson Webb - grand nephew of Cornelius
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - retired gangster-childhood friend of Garth
Sam -Frank's right hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" Romano - mobster
Salvatore "Sal" Ricci - consigliere of the New York mob family
Vito Greco - the mob boss
Zhang Wei - Chinese underworld
Althea Cascio - mother of Travis and half-sister to Rebecca
Travis Cascio - missing boy
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
Miriam Cascio - a spirit from days gone by
Antonio Maggio - deceased grandfather of Rebecca and Miriam's first love
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Cornelius Webb - deceased and responsible for hanging Miriam long ago
Grayson Webb - grand nephew of Cornelius
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - retired gangster-childhood friend of Garth
Sam -Frank's right hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" Romano - mobster
Salvatore "Sal" Ricci - consigliere of the New York mob family
Vito Greco - the mob boss
Zhang Wei - Chinese underworld
Althea Cascio - mother of Travis and half-sister to Rebecca
Travis Cascio - missing boy
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