Chapter 2 - The PassbookI drove directly to the headquarters of Banco Metropolitano on Paseo de la Reforma. Once there, I asked to speak with Rodrigo Fuentes. Rodrigo was the director of private banking, and I had known him professionally for years.
A short while later, I was sitting across from him inside his office. Without much explanation, I removed the blue passbook from my jacket and placed it on his desk. "I found this among Renata's belongings," I said. "I need to know what it is."
Rodrigo picked it up. At first, he simply frowned at the worn cover. Then he opened it. His eyes moved down the page. And stopped on the account number.
The change in his face was immediate. All the color seemed to disappear.
"Rodrigo?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he stood so quickly that his chair rolled backward. He walked to the office door. Locked it. Then crossed the room and lowered the blinds. Only after doing that did he return to the desk. He picked up the passbook again and stared at the number as though he needed to confirm that he hadn't imagined it.
"Emiliano…" His voice sounded different.
"What?"
He looked directly at me. "Where did you get this?"
"I just told you. It belonged to Renata."
His fingers tightened around the little blue book. "Where exactly did you find it?"
"In one of her sewing boxes. It was hidden underneath a false compartment."
Rodrigo stared at me. Then I noticed something that made me even more uneasy. His hands were trembling.
"Do not leave this office."
"Why would I leave?"
"Emiliano, I'm serious."
"What is going on?"
He slowly placed the passbook back onto the desk. "This is not an ordinary savings account."
I looked at the faded blue booklet between us. It seemed almost ridiculous. The thing looked like something that belonged in a museum. "What does that mean?"
Rodrigo swallowed. "If today is genuinely the first time you've ever seen this passbook, then we may have a very serious problem."
My stomach tightened. "What kind of problem?"
Instead of answering, Rodrigo reached for his telephone. I watched him lift the receiver. Before dialing, he looked at me again. And for the first time in all the years I had known him, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
"I need to notify the authorities."
I stared at him. "About my wife's savings account?"
"Right now, Emiliano."
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Only a few hours earlier, I had believed the worst day of my life was already behind me. I had buried the woman I had loved for forty-three years. Now I was sitting inside a locked bank office while a man I trusted prepared to contact the authorities because of an old passbook my wife had secretly hidden in a sewing box.
That was the moment I understood something. Renata had taken an enormous secret with her to the grave. But what I didn't yet realize was that the secret wasn't only about her. It was about the people closest to me.
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