L'Oro Verde (21 page)

Mansuieto Vitali
. When I noted the similarities in birth
date and description, I finally had to guess that Bernardo was indeed my older
brother.”

“But you never asked your father?”

“No. I found some pictures of my
sister’s second birthday party in a drawer in the house. I have since put them
up in the dining room. I don’t know if anyone ever told me about it, but I
always thought one of them was a picture of Nicola and me and that the younger
boy in it was my cousin, Giorgio. In the background of the other, a little boy
is standing with his mother who looks like Mrs. Reni. I compared the pictures. They
seem to have been taken at the same party. The little boy in this picture
looked like the eldest in the first and is wearing the same clothes. The
younger boy in the first picture, therefore, must be me, and the toddler, my sister.
I guess I never compared them before. Sister Angela, you asked me about them
when you were at the house.”

“So you already knew when I asked you
about the pictures at the barbeque?” asked Sister Angela.

“I had guessed, yes. No one ever confirmed
that, however.”

“And your father doesn’t object to these
pictures being set out on the buffet?” she asked.

“No. My father has been a broken man
since Bernardo’s death. Although we never talk about it, I think he is relieved
he can finally honor Bernardo.”

“So in your own mind, you verified the
boy was most likely your older brother,” said DiMarco. “But how do feel about
the will? After all, you have worked so hard to keep the business going.”

“That was harder to confirm. I went to
Eduardo here, but he told me nothing. In the end, I relied on common sense. My
father would never leave the business to this boy. Bernardo wasn’t smart enough,
nor did he have any training. I guess I just didn’t believe Garibaldi.”

“Then why did you lower your prices,
Carlo?”

“Because one of my other customers
backed out of a deal when his business soured. I needed to get rid of the excess.
Garibaldi was always anxious to take more in the past, and again he seemed
eager to take it off my hands. A cut in price didn’t hurt the profits that
much. In short, it was just business.”

The chief got up and walked out of the
room. Lazaro followed. Sister Angela hoped the officer would bring more drinks.
She had no idea when the session would end. DiMarco continued as if he had not
noticed.

“What would you have done if you found
that your father decided to leave the business to his eldest son?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Inspector,”
Adriano interrupted. “Carlo has already told you that he didn’t know. There’s
no need to speculate unless you have something. If you do, I would advise my
client to keep quiet until you produce it.”

“My father still owns the business. I
only work for him. If that had happened, I would have gone to my father and asked.”

Lazaro did indeed bring back some water.
He handed the bottles to each participant.

“Bless you, Lazaro,” Sister Angela
whispered.

“Mr. Adriano, you know full well I don’t
have that information because the inheritance Bernardo would have received was
a pittance,” DiMarco said, his voice even. “I’m sure the business is still
bequeathed to you, Carlo.”

“I have never revealed the contents of
the will to anyone except for Vittorio and Mariella Vitali. And that policy of silence
pertains to Enzo Garibaldi. He seems to have come to the exaggerated conclusion
that he knows something everyone else does not. Don’t attempt to smear my
practice further, DiMarco. My office has the power to take even you to court!”
He got out of his chair to collect his papers and briefcase.

“Are there any other questions for Mr.
Vitali before he leaves us? Please sit down for one more minute, Mr. Adriano. I
haven’t dismissed this inquiry,” said DiMarco.

“I have a question, Inspector,” Sister
Angela said, raising her hand in schoolgirl fashion. “Carlo, you said you
didn’t go to your father about either the business or the possibility that

Bernardo was your older brother.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“But what about Nicola? Surely you were
concerned for her.”

The change was sudden. His face turned
ashen.

“I don’t think this has anything to do with
the nature of this investigation, Sister.” the counselor said, again standing.

“It most certainly does,” the nun shot
out. “This is a murder investigation, Mr. Adriano. Perhaps you have little experience
with this type of crime, but every detail has to be covered. If Carlo has no
motive, there are others around him who might. I suggest you sit down now until
I’m satisfied with Mr. Vitali’s answer.”

The counselor sat down, and the nun
suddenly heard the creak of the door.

There in the entrance stood the chief,
his mouth open with surprise. “Please excuse me, Sister. I didn’t mean to interrupt.
It’s just that I heard yelling and—please excuse me,” he stammered, again
shutting the door.

She looked back at Carlo and said more
softly, “You were going to say?”

“Yes. I did tell my sister but that’s
all I’m going to say about it.”

The inspector leaned against the wall,
realizing the implications of that statement.

“We already know from your father that
Nicola was seeing Bernardo. Were you aware of the relationship?” DiMarco asked.

“My father isn’t well, Inspector. He
sometimes confuses things. He also drinks too much. My sister and I haven’t listened
to my father since my mother’s death. I suggest you and Sister Angela do the
same.”

He touched her hand, and she slowly slid
it away.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly

“Have they gone?”

“Yes. You can stay here a while
longer—until you feel ready for me to take you home.”

Lifting herself onto her elbow, she
listened to a dog barking in the distance. It was still dark, and she watched his
shadow cross the room to pull the drape away from the window. Hues of blue-gray
streamed in.

“I believe it’s nearly six. Do you think
Vittorio will worry?” he asked.

“No. He rarely checks. When I was out
with Bernardo, he never said a word,” she said, her voice cracking when she said
his name. “Poor Bernardo,” she whispered. “What have I done?”

“You did what you had to. Good God, you
couldn’t have kept it anyway. There’s a reason relatives don’t breed.”

He came back to her side and placed her
small hand in his. Too weak to recoil, Nicola let it rest there. She avoided his
eyes, though, having trouble hiding the revulsion she felt.

“You seem feverish. Do you feel bad?
Your face is so pale.”

“I’m fine. Shouldn’t you show up at work
today? You can drop me off at home and then go into work.”

“Gisella will want you to help with the
wedding. I don’t think you’ll be strong enough,” he said. Then he let out a low
moan, “Oh God, what have I done? Please forgive me. Lord, have mercy on my
soul.” He knelt down beside the bed and began to pray, never letting go of her
hand.

“You?” she said. “You don’t need pity.
It was
my
decision. If God is angry, it’s because of me.”

He hesitated and gazed at her. Deep
furrows separated his tired gray-green eyes. “Ah, but I talked you into it. You
would have kept it.”

“It was my decision in the end, Enzo. My
body is my own,” she said, leaning back against the pillow. “But I don’t know
if I want to live without it. It’s my only gift from him.”

“Come away to the coast with me, Nicola.
You know, to the house in Vernazza. The salty air will do you good.”

“And where’s Gina?”

“I haven’t spoken with her. You know we
never talk.”

“Yes, I know that. She’s a symbol of
your place in society. You’ll never leave her because she paid for your empire,
and you’ll lose it if you walk. And don’t even mention the Church, Enzo. You
talk to a god who says that you have to stay with someone you don’t love, and
at the same time, professes that it’s wrong to be with the one you do.”

Enzo sighed, “Please don’t think about
that right now, Nicola. You need to be calm so you can get well. You know my wife
means nothing to me.”

“But I have to be with my family, Enzo.
Carlo needs me. I will never leave him when he needs my support.”

“Yes. I see how he protects you,” he
said, his lip curling.

“No. You are wrong. Carlo would never
have killed him,” Nicola said, tears filling her eyes again. “Oh God, why did
he have to die? Why wasn’t he spared? I could have lived without his touch as
long as I could see him. Please, God, let us go back and do this again,” she
implored, turning her face to his. “Get out. I’ll be all right. Just leave me
alone.”

“But I love you…” he whispered.

She turned her back to him and listened
as he descended the steps and shut the door behind him.

*

Garibaldi let the phone ring while he
studied the reports in front of him. Finally he picked it up.

“Enzo? Eduardo here. I just returned
from an interrogation with DiMarco in Montriano. I heard something quite
disturbing.”

“Eduardo, how are you? I hope there’s no
plan for the police to pull me in there too. If so, you probably should have just
stayed there.”

“Your name did come up.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. The police tried to hold me
responsible for releasing information on Vitali’s will.”

“Ah. And didn’t you?”

“Earlier this year, you tried to pin me
down on who would inherit the Vitali estate. You told me it was imperative that
you find out if Bernardo Reni would inherit the business.”

“Yes. I was in a quandary. I was asked
to hire the boy, but it was my belief that he was going to manage L’Oro Verde.
If so, I would have given him a fitting position here so that I could train him
personally.”

“I didn’t tell you anything, Enzo. And
certainly not that. You asked me if all of Vittorio’s children would inherit part
of the estate. I told you ‘yes.’ Each child would take over a portion of it.
That doesn’t say that Bernardo Reni, as the eldest son, would inherit L’Oro
Verde.”

“No. You’re right. I was mistaken about
that. I apologize if it has besmirched your reputation, Eduardo, though I believe
you might be exaggerating the damage.”

“I just want to make sure you understand
that the will doesn’t award one child the whole of the estate.”

“Thank you so much for calling, Eduardo.
I have no plans to release you as my counsel. You keep me on my toes. You have
my apologies for any embarrassment I may have caused.” Enzo put down the
receiver and smiled. “Oily bastard,” he whispered. “I hate lawyers.”

*

Nicola did not know how long she dozed.
She wanted to get up and crawl into her own bed, but the procedure had sapped
her strength. For hours she was in and out of consciousness. She dreamt that
Bernardo had returned, running his fingertips up and down her arm. He held her
in the tall grass, overlooking the orchard of leccino olives. She could feel his
chest go up and down as he tried to catch his breath. She clung to
him—clutching his torso until the last of the rush faded, her soul still
mingling with his. When he started to pull away, he looked into her eyes. She
waited for him to forgive her, but his lids slipped over the liquid-green orbs. Then he faded away.

Nicola opened her eyes. The sun must
have been straight overhead. Bright streaks formed angles on the half-drawn shutters.
She slipped back into another dream. This time, Enzo stood over them.

“You have to get rid of the baby,” he
said, pulling Bernardo
to
his feet. Garibaldi bent over her until she could see every line in his face. His
breath was gross. “The baby’s evil,” he continued. “It’s a deformity created by
the devil. God doesn’t reward you for your sins, Nicola.”

“It’s not a sin if you don’t know,” she
cried, looking around
for
Bernardo.

“But you
do
know, Nicola, because
I told you long before
Carlo
did. I warned you that your relationship with your brother is a sin. He isn’t
only your brother but a half-wit. His voice growing stronger, he added, “You
choose to live in sin, anyway. And for that you must pay.”

Bernardo stared back at her, seemingly oblivious
of the
predicament.

Her eyes fluttered open again. The
daylight had faded. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, her pounding head
slowly cleared. “Oh, Bernardo, I’m so sorry.” she cried, tearing at the grimy sheets.
Nicola knew she had to leave now, or Garibaldi would be back. She had to catch
the bus down the road and make her way home.

*

Carlo shut the door to the counselor’s
Alfa Romeo. He leaned down on the rim of the open window. “That’s it, then,” he
said.

“Carlo, this isn’t over. Please don’t
speak to anyone without calling me.”

“Don’t worry, Eduardo. I don’t think
they’ll come after me again.”

“What are you saying? Who else are they
going to go after?” Adriano asked. “You didn’t say anything that would convince
them you aren’t a suspect. I’m telling you to be careful. Call me if you are
approached again.”

Carlo walked quickly into the house and
headed for his sister’s room. She was not there. He then hurried to the
kitchen.

“Antonella, was Nicola’s bed made up
this morning? Did she sleep in it last night?”

The maid’s face reddened, but she did
not answer.

Please, Antonella, I’m worried about
her.” He firmly grasped her shoulders. “I want to find her and make sure she’s
all right.”

“I suppose I can tell you, but you must
leave her be. She already has too many of you trying to run her life. She has
suffered the loss of someone she loves and needs time to recover,” she said,
biting her lip. “I don’t think she was here.”

“Was anything missing? Did she take a
bag?”

“That I don’t know. She didn’t confide
in me,” she said. “Gisella called, Carlo. If she phones again, what do you want
me to say?” she asked the retreating figure.

“Tell her I’m busy. I’ll call her this
evening. Don’t worry her.”

*

Carlo circled the parking lot at Garibaldi’s,
looking for his sister’s car. When he did not see it, he parked his own and ran
inside. “Please tell Garibaldi I’m here,” he told the receptionist.

“I’m sorry, but he left early.”

“Was he here at all?”

“Yes, but his wife called, and he had to
leave. It was about an hour or so ago I think, Mr. Vitali. Can anyone else help
you?”

“His wife, you say?”

“Yes, very definitely. We all know her
well. Gina Garibaldi visits here frequently. Who else would call and tell us
that she’s his wife?” she asked, smiling. “Anyway, I recognized her voice. I
would call Gisella to come get you, but she’s out preparing for your wedding.
Shouldn’t you be helping her?”

*

When Carlo returned to the house,
Antonella stopped him in the dining room. “Nicola’s in her room,” she
whispered, pointing to the den.

“Carlo, is that you?” his father’s voice
boomed from the other room.

“Yes, Father.”

“Come have a drink with me before
dinner. I want to talk to you about the contracts. It isn’t that I see any
problems, but you know how I like to be kept in the loop.”

“I’m busy right now. Why don’t we have a
drink after dinner? Then we can spend more time on it,” he said, stepping quickly
into the hallway. He tapped on Nicola’s door. She did not answer. “Please,
Nicola. Let me in. I must talk to you.”

He turned the knob and found it
unlocked. The room was dark. Nicola lay on her bed facing away from the door, a
spot staining the back of her shift.

“Nicola,” he whispered hoarsely. “Are
you all right?” He shut the door and sat on the bed beside her. “Please talk to
me.”

“I did it, Carlo. I got rid of the
baby.”

He groaned.

“You know I had to. No one would have
accepted it, even if it were normal. The child would have always been known as Bernardo’s
baby.” She sat up and slid her feet over the side. “I didn’t care if they
taunted
me
. But they would have ridiculed the child, and I couldn’t bear
that.” She buried her tear-stained face in her brother’s shoulder and sobbed.
“I wanted it so badly. I wanted it because it was Bernardo’s. Why couldn’t I
keep my lover’s gift? Why did Bernardo have to go?”

“Because he was your brother, Nicola.
There was nowhere to go to hide that. You would only carry the sin with you.”

“Because God said it was a sin? Because
the priests say it’s a sin? Oh Carlo, how can I live without him?”

*

Mother Margarita approached her charge,
eating alone at a long table in the dining room. Sister Angela had just
returned to the convent for dinner and was so late few still remained at the
tables around her.

“Good evening, Sister Angela. Do you
mind if I sit here with you?”

“No, Mother, please do. It’s rather
lonely here at this hour. But, of course, that small detail doesn’t deter me
from a wonderful meal. What have you been working on that keeps you so late?”

“I have been attempting to get money for
items we’ll need for the next year. I do hope you’ll have everything sewn up
with your other vocation so you’ll be able to join us when

school starts.”

“Most certainly. I believe we are very
close now,” she said, smiling. “I would like everything solved so I can have a break
before I receive new charges in the fall. But as to that other matter, Mother,
I thought there was already money in the budget for the expenses this year.

“Existence in the budget doesn’t specifically
mean cash on hand, Sister. Being in the budget means it’s on paper. There are
reports to write and battles to fight before it becomes change in our pockets.”

“That’s why I prefer teaching, I think.
There are battles, but they are with real children.”

“Yes, and some of us are better at
communicating with children than others. I’m glad you still enjoy it, Sister Angela.”

“Is that why the bishop or his
representative keeps popping up when I’m trying to do my other job—because I’m such
a good teacher?”

“I’m certain that reason is at the back
of his heart, yes. If I didn’t believe that his motives were good, it would be
much tougher for me to serve. I hope you know that.”