L'Oro Verde (19 page)

“Thank you, Stefano. Your information certainly
enlightened me,” she said, climbing down from the bus.

She gazed at her watch. The inspector
probably went straight home to his beautiful wife and dinner. Looking forward
to her meal too, the nun decided to climb the hill and call him after dinner.

*

Sister Angela opened her eyes with a
start. Sunlight streamed in through the window. The sound she heard was not the
alarm. She had not set it. It was vacation, and this was her first opportunity
to sleep in. With any luck, Mother Margherita had not noticed her absence at the
morning service. If she had, Sister Angela hoped she knew her charge was working
hard on the case.

Sister Angela rose onto her elbows. She
heard the noise again. Of course it was the cell, but where? It had already rung
at least six times when she finally held it to her ear. Why had the answering
thingamajig not turned on? Was it Alessandro calling about a change in plans?

“Hello?” she said.

“Oh, good morning, Sister Angela,” the
voice said. “Enzo Garibaldi here. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“No, Mr. Garibaldi, you didn’t disturb
me,” she said, quickly coming to her senses. “It strikes me as peculiar, however,
that you know my number. May I ask you how you got it?”

“Oh my, Sister, I’ll only be too happy
to tell you after you get here. I’m afraid I’m very busy, however, having a meeting
right now in this very conference room. I have only just now realized I may
know something regarding the boy, Bernardo, that might help you solve your case.
Had I known it was relevant, I would have told you earlier, but I’m afraid I have
been out of the loop, you see.”

The nun waited for him to make a
proposal.

“And?” she finally asked.

“Can you meet me here at my office in
an hour and a half? I think I can squeeze you in before lunch.”

“You can’t discuss this on the phone,
Mr. Garibaldi?” she asked.

“I would prefer we do it here, Sister,”
he said, speaking to someone at his side. “I must go now. The meeting is
starting. I look forward to seeing you at eleven, then.”

With that, the phone clicked and
the line was silent. Sister Angela knew she did not have enough time to eat.
She would have to shower and dress in a hurry to make it to the bus stop in
time.

*

Stefano was not the driver today. Sister
Angela did not recognize this one. She felt ill at ease, still questioning the
nature of the interview and not knowing what could go wrong at Garibaldi’s. She
had the urge to call the inspector but did not really want to trouble him.
After all, he was busy with other cases too.

Her eyes followed the rows of trees, flashing
by the dirty window. The drupes were still green, not ready to pick. No matter
how hard you shook them, they were just not ready. The information here was
trickling in too. No matter how hard she and the inspector tried to force the
clues, they were just not ready. She would have to wait for more like this one to
come along.

The nun did not stop at the bench in
front of Garibaldi’s. She did not change out of her sneakers but walked through
the front door and directly up the stairs. The receptionist in the lobby did
not stop her. The marketing department was busy. Sister Angela had not seen it
that way before. She walked up to the desk, expecting to find Gisella.

“Good morning,” a woman said, removing
her earpiece. “How can I help you?”

“May I please speak to Miss Vitali?”

“I’m sorry, but Miss Vitali isn’t here
today. Someone else might be able to help you—Mr. Cannelo perhaps? He’s taking
over for Miss Vitali while she’s out.”

“Does she plan to be away long?”

“I don’t know. I’m only the help. I
repeat what I’m told.”

“Is Gisella also gone?” the nun asked.

“Why yes. She’ll be gone for quite a
while. She’s getting married this weekend, you know.”

Oh yes, the wedding
, Sister Angela said to herself.
Maybe
Nicola’s involved in that too.

“Anything else?” the woman asked,
replacing her headpiece.

“No thank you,” Sister Angela said. She
descended the stairs and asked the receptionist there to announce her to Mr. Garibaldi.

“Ah, Sister,” he said, entering the
lobby. “It’s so good of you to come. Please follow me back to the
conference room. We can talk more there.”

He sat down across from her and leaned
back in his chair, looking comfortable and relaxed. Was this affected? Perhaps his information was not as significant as he made it seem.
Whether it was important or not, Sister Angela had to find out what he
was hiding. The nun wished she, too, could feel confident about their
conversation, but tension crawled across her shoulders. She grasped the
arms of the chair tightly and felt a chill run up and down her spine.

Sister Angela heard the footsteps
outside the conference room door. Several people approached but passed by the
room and continued down the hall. There were voices, happy voices. The nun
looked at her watch, but Garibaldi did not seem to notice.

“Stefano told me you have some
questions,” he finally began. “He said he told you that he worked for me. Those
were the days. Stefano was loyal, and I appreciated him. But alas, he met
someone and wanted to settle down. I offered him an apartment, but he thought I
was being too generous. I don’t believe I was, Sister. Good help is hard to find,
don’t you think?” Before she could respond, he added, “Perhaps it would be
better if I answered
your
questions. I can give a clear picture of the
events that trouble you.”

“The police are interested in the
activities surrounding the death of Bernardo Reni,” she said. “Mr. Vitali gave
us his version, but as the chief suspect, he was distraught when he learned
there might be a paper trail concerning Bernardo’s adoption.”

“Yes. Yes. I already know what he’s told
you. He confessed that Bernardo was his son. Am I right? And that I helped him
with the scam to have the infant buried. That sheds a poor light on me, of
course. However, I only did what any good friend would do to help out,” he
said, pausing to watch her face. But she revealed nothing, and he continued.
“I’ll gladly work with the police to straighten out how and why we did what we
did. I must confess, it probably should have been handled differently.”

Now the nun was even more confused.
Vittorio never gave her the impression that the two men were good friends. Even
Carlo had made Enzo sound like a business partner. Stefano hinted at some kind
of relationship, but did the two men share an intimacy no one else was aware
of?

“Tell me about him,” she said.

“Who? Vittorio?” he asked, surprised.
“We have known each other for well over twenty years.”

“Did he know ahead there might be
problems with the baby?”

“The baby was premature, you see,” he
said.

“But Mrs. Reni must have known before
the birth that she might get the baby,” she said, irritated by his circuitous answers.

“Oh no, I don’t think so.”

“If Mrs. Vitali went into labor early,
how did you know to go to the hospital?”

“I came when I was called.”

“By Vittorio?”

“Yes. At least I think it was Vittorio.
I don’t remember. No. Wait a minute. Maybe it wasn’t Vittorio. I really don’t know
who actually called, but Vittorio definitely wanted me there.”

“Was the baby supposedly still alive
when you got there?”

“I don’t think so because Vittorio and
his wife were very distressed,” Garibaldi said, squirming. “You know, Sister, I
have ordered lunch for us. Please join me in the cafeteria. We can talk more
there, if you like.”

“I still don’t understand,” she said,
not getting up. “Why did Vittorio want you to come? I mean, did he only want
you to help him with this sham burial? What was the purpose?”

“I suppose he wanted a friend to give
him strength—to assure him he was doing the right thing. Come now, we can talk
during lunch.”

“Please sit down, Mr. Garibaldi. I have
another question. How did you get my number?”

Garibaldi chuckled. “I must admit I
cheated a little there. My brother, Aldo, works for the cell company to which you
subscribe. I mean, the records are public for anyone who applies. I just took
advantage of a shortcut. Time is money, Sister.”

*

The cafeteria was large and bustling.
The manager showed her to a table at the far end of the room and indicated a
chair that placed her with her back to the others. Soon, a salad and entrée
arrived, and someone offered her coffee. The nun did not really feel like
eating. Was she ill?

“You know, Sister, this is not the only
reason I invited you to come. There was something else I wanted to talk to you
about.”

The nun sat quietly, waiting for him to
continue. She did not touch her food.

“I’m concerned about Inspector DiMarco’s
visit to Eduardo Adriano, Vittorio’s lawyer.”

If the nun had eaten, she would probably
have lost it all right there. How did he know about the visit? Had the counselor
or his secretary told him? She tried to look calm. “How did you become aware of
an interview between the inspector and Mr. Adriano?”

“Eduardo is my counselor too, Sister,”
he said, looking guilty, “and I know things that maybe I shouldn’t know.”

“For instance…”

“Well, I know about the will. I have
known about it for quite a while, you see,” he said. “I know that Bernardo Reni
was in that will.”

“And that information suggests that
Vittorio didn’t actually commit the crime,” she said. “If you are such a close
friend, you would want to make sure we knew he didn’t murder his son. You might
therefore tell me this whether or not it was true. Thank you, Mr. Garibaldi,
but I’m afraid your friendship precludes you from being a good character witness.”
Sister Angela rose from her chair.

“No, no, Sister, don’t go. That isn’t
the information I wanted to share with you. If Vittorio killed his son, he
would deserve the punishment.”

“Mr. Garibaldi, who got the job here for
Bernardo?” she asked, sitting down once more.

“I did.”

“And who asked you to hire Bernardo?”

The manager coughed.

“Was it Vittorio?”

“I don’t remember. It may have been.”

“Surely you remember who came to you
and asked you to give Bernardo a job. It wasn’t so long ago.”

“I know it came through the Vitali
household. It was probably a request from Mrs. Reni originally, but I honestly don’t
remember who actually asked me,” he said. “Just hear me out before you leave.
According to Vittorio, except for Mr. Reni and his wife, no one knew Bernardo
was his son, correct?”

“But now we realize that you did. And
probably Stefano knew.”

“Yes. No one, including myself, was
supposed to know that Bernardo would inherit something. Am I right?”

“Yes, but evidently you and your
informant were aware of it.”

“I confess that I didn’t keep the
secret.”

“What? Are you saying others were aware
of both the adoption and the inheritance?”

“Not others. Other. I told one person,”
he said. “And I’m surprised he hasn’t acknowledged it.”

“Who?”

“Carlo”

“Carlo? Why would you ever tell Carlo?
You are not close to him, and Vittorio would not want you to tell his children.”

“It was business. The boy is practically
in charge of where all the Vitali olives go. He wanted to send my olives elsewhere.
He was negotiating the contract and was trying to increase his prices. I’m not
proud of it, Sister, but what could I do? I told him I had information—that he
should check with his father about who would run the orchards when Vittorio
retired or died.”

“Why didn’t you go directly to Vittorio
to complain about his son?”

“Because I didn’t think it would help.”

“So you essentially told Carlo that he
was being disowned by his father. Did it work?”

“Yes. Soon he lowered the price and gave
me more olives.”

“And did he ask his father about it?”

“I don’t know. He never mentioned it
again.”

“You never really told him Bernardo was
his brother, did you?” she asked.

“No. I never said directly,” Garibaldi said.
“But certainly he must have guessed.

After all, why would a father give the
orchard to anyone but his eldest son? Carlo must have realized that Bernardo
was the oldest.”

“Why are you telling me this? Surely you
don’t want to see Carlo arrested for murder.”

“I tell you because you would have come
to me in a few days and asked me to tell you. You already talked to Stefano. It
was only a matter of time. I too want to see the person who did this arrested.
It doesn’t matter if he’s a colleague. It’s essential that you get whoever did
this heinous act against poor Bernardo Reni off the streets. I’ll reveal my
improprieties to a priest, Sister. But I also feel that it’s my duty to confess
them to you so Carlo can pay for his crime.”

The nun stood up. She had not eaten a
thing, and her head spun. Walking out of the cafeteria, she quickly made her
way to the exit. The sun was hot. The warm wind burned her cheeks, but she did
not notice. Somehow she made it to the bus stop and caught the one o’clock
shuttle back to Montriano.

Her heart ached. If what Garibaldi had
told her was true, she would have to tell Alessandro to arrest the young olive
grower immediately. However, for some reason she did not think Carlo would
murder his brother for money or for land even if he was excited about owning
L’Oro Verde. The nun bit her lip and thought again.

What did Vittorio actually will to his
eldest son? Did Enzo know that Vittorio bequeathed the orchards to Bernardo? Or
did he just guess what was said in the will? The Vitalis gave up the child at
birth because he was impaired. Why would Vittorio now give everything to
Bernardo, who remained “slow” as an adult? Had the father not trained Carlo to
run the business? Bernardo knew nothing about growing olive trees. Maybe Garibaldi’s
transgression was not that he had revealed the secret of the will, but that he
had grossly overstated Vittorio’s bequest.

*

It was done. She did not have to do
anything else. Alessandro would take over now and question Carlo about the
family’s situation. That night, Sister Angela dreamt Enzo Garibaldi was the
devil, luring her into his tangle of deception. In addition, it was hot. She
tossed and turned as if she could feel the flames licking at her feet. The
following morning, she realized the real transgression was probably that she
turned Garibaldi into God’s archenemy. Oh well, she could not help it. It was a
dream and beyond her power. She would try not to think about it—at least for a
while.

In the meantime, Mrs. Torrisi invited
Sister Angela and Sister Daniela to tea. The kind woman enticed them, offering
to squeeze fresh orange juice for the occasion. The nun looked forward to that and,
of course, the air-conditioning at the rectory. She hoped the housekeeper would
serve them inside. The garden, a haven of colorful blooms and decorative tiles and
pots, would be the ideal spot. Today it was just too hot. Surely she would not
want to remain outside.

The heat did not stop the housekeeper,
though. She was out early, watering her precious blooms. The spring bulbs were gone,
but there were still late-blooming azaleas left and even some lacy pink
camellias. More profuse, however, were the snapdragons and summer iris. There
were also lilies—bold oranges and reds, bursting forth from dark foliage. At
her feet, the first mums were beginning to peek through the manicured soil.
Enough water would ensure a colorful fall.

The small garden had a high stucco wall
that protected it from too much exposure to the sun. In the center, moss grew
between and over the tiles that made a patio-type floor. Noting the lush growth
along the garden wall, Sister Angela wondered if neighborhood children or small
animals ever hid there.

Perhaps Bernardo had done so with other
altar boys
.

She sighed. Thinking about Bernardo’s childlike
innocence and tragic death upset her. She quickly crossed herself and said a
quiet prayer, asking God to grant him eternal peace. Looking around the garden,
Sister Angela decided she would hide in the brush along the wall if she were ever
in trouble near the church.

“Ah, Sister Angela, Sister Daniela, how
nice to see you. I so looked forward to visiting with you again. Please enter through
the gate here. Let’s get in out of the sun, though. Surely you are already too
hot from the hike up the hill.”

“Father Domenic isn’t in today?” Sister
Angela asked.

“No, no. He is visiting the bishop in
Petraggio. I’m sure he would have liked to talk to you, though.”

“He’s healthy then?”

“Oh yes, quite healthy and busy. He returned
right after Father Sergio did. I believe the bishop’s assistant assured him he
is no longer in danger of being removed from the parish. I guess anything is
better than the accusations that were flying only a month ago. I assume he is
no longer a suspect in the boy’s murder.”

“No. I think the suspicion was based on
the charges made in Umbria. When the young man recanted his story, the police
realized Father Dominic lacked motive to kill Bernardo.”

“How are they coming with identifying
the murderer? Mrs. Torrisi asked. “It’s hard to believe it took place in our little
church.”

“Always closer. I believe the location
had little to do with the act.”

“That’s a relief. Father Domenic has two
baptisms this Sunday, and confirmation is in two weeks. He doesn’t complain.”