L'Oro Verde (23 page)

“Hello, Sister Angela, we hear you have
been very busy.”

“Yes, too busy today. I hope the rain
brings us some relief.”

“Well? Have you caught Bernardo’s
murderer?”

“Not yet, she said. “The inspector must
be getting closer, though. We have cleared almost everyone who knew the boy. There
aren’t too many suspects left, I’m afraid.”

“And Miss Vitali? Is she going to be all
right?” asked Sister Clara.

“I think so, given help and time to
rest. She has a long life ahead of her so I hope she gets stronger.”

The nun felt it before she heard it, but
she could not retrieve her phone before the ring echoed through the
room.

“Excuse me, Sisters,” she said, quickly
taking the phone with her into the courtyard. “Hello?” she asked tentatively.

“Sister Angela, come quickly,” said the
inspector. “We have some results from Dr. Piombo’s office, and they might surprise
even you.”

“Does it solve the case?”

“No. I’m afraid it may send us in
another direction. We’re preparing for a new interview.”

*

Even though it was raining outside, a
fan was set up in the interrogation room. The windows that lined the ceiling were
open, and the damp odor blew into the chamber.

“I love that smell,” said the nun.
“It’ll be so fresh tomorrow.”

The door opened, and Enzo Garibaldi
sauntered in, immediately followed by Eduardo Adriano.

“I don’t see why I had to come in so
quickly, Inspector,” Garibaldi said. “Wouldn’t tomorrow have been better for everyone?
The heat has sapped me of my strength, and I haven’t even been outside.”

“Not only is it hot, but it must be
tiring to discover that one of your employees is ill,” DiMarco said.

“Thank you, yes. I hope Miss Vitali is
better soon.”

“I wished to talk to you in the
evening, Mr. Garibaldi, because I didn’t want to interrupt your work. I think
you might not have found time from your busy daytime schedule.”

“That’s true. I appreciate your concern.
But surely you don’t think I had anything to do with the murder, do you? I
mean, if that woman has said something, you must understand the state of her
mental health right now.”

“I have asked you to come by the station
today, sir, because I have received results from the DNA evidence that Mr.
Vitali provided us.”

“Ah, then how does that concern me?”

“It seems Vittorio Vitali is not the
father of Bernardo Reni.”

“Is that so? I’m completely confused
then,” he said.

Eduardo Adriano sat up in his chair, a
look of surprise on his face.

“Did you or didn’t you help Mr. Vitali
bury an empty casket in the San Felipe Cemetery on or about the twenty-sixth of
February, 1985?” DiMarco asked.

“I did. I thought Vittorio’s and
Mariella’s baby was given to Mr. and Mrs. Reni soon thereafter. I swear. That’s
what I was told.”

“Did you ever see the baby?”

“No. No one showed it to me. I was to
help Vittorio buy a child-size casket. We placed a small bag of sand inside,
and I delivered it to the cemetery.”

“You delivered it personally?”

“Yes. My driver, Stefano, can verify
that. He was with me.”

“And how did you know the infant would
be given to the Renis?”

“Because Mariella told me.”

“So you did talk to his wife. She didn’t
show you the baby?”

“No.”

“And did she also tell you why she
didn’t want to keep it?”

“Yes. She said there had been
complications at birth and that the child had some brain damage.”

“Did she offer to show him to you?”

“No. I don’t think she ever saw him
either. She didn’t want to become attached, I suppose.”

“Why are there no records at the
hospital, Mr. Garibaldi?”

“That was the second favor they asked of
me.”

“You altered the records?”

“Yes. I knew the doctor who delivered
him. He wouldn’t do it personally but showed me how to erase it from the computer.”

“And they let the hospital release the
infant even though he wasn’t well?”

“No. I believe the Vitalis just took the
infant and left without checking out. You’ll have to ask Vittorio.”

“The hospital reported nothing to the
authorities?”

“Why should they? Vittorio and Mariella
were the legal parents and paid for their stay there.”

Outside, the breezes had died down.
Sister Angela wanted to unbutton her collar, but instead, fanned her face with
a piece of paper. The air in the interrogation room was turning stale.
Garibaldi pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and blotted his
forehead. Tortini got up to leave the room. When he returned, he placed a
bottle of water and a glass in front of the witness.

“Thank you, officer,” Garibaldi said,
loosening the cap and filling his glass.

“I believe, Mr. Garibaldi, you told
Sister Angela that you got Bernardo the job at your company.”

“That’s correct. It was to help
Vittorio. The boy needed to learn a trade, and I had jobs he could do despite
his handicap.”

“I think that’s all for now, Mr.
Garibaldi. I’ll call you if I need any more information. Oh, and please stop at
the front on the way out. We need a DNA sample from you.”

“Why do you need that?”

“Standard procedure.”

“That’s all then?” he asked, seemingly
relieved. “Any time, Inspector. Please feel free to call me any time.”

Adriano did not smile as he followed his
client out the door. The DNA collection, a swab and blood sample, should have
bothered him. The nun wanted him to object. The inspector must be right—Adriano
did not have that much experience with homicide. But he must have realized DiMarco
was getting the better of him.

“What about the sighting of him and
Nicola in the car, Alessandro?” the nun asked. “I didn’t hear you question him
about it. Nicola even verified earlier today that he helped her.”

“Tortini, please get Sister Angela and
me each another bottle of water,” DiMarco said. “Come and sit up here, Sister.”

Her muscles stiff from sitting, the nun
hobbled up to the front and settled into a chair across from him.

“The purpose of this interview was to
collect DNA and to get him to admit to the lesser crime. If we had accused him of
aiding Miss Vitali in an illegal abortion, he wouldn’t have admitted to that.
Better that he believes he’s smarter than we are. Maybe he’ll let down his
guard.

“You need to eliminate him as Bernardo’s
father, correct? But if he’s the parent, how can he be a suspect? Surely a
father wouldn’t kill his own son.”

“That depends on what he has at stake, I
suppose.”

“And a man like Enzo has plenty to lose
is what you are saying. But doesn’t that point the finger back at Vittorio? He
might have realized Bernardo wasn’t his. None of us have informed him yet, have
we? Who else would have told him?”

“Perhaps his wife, on her deathbed,
confessed that she had an affair with the man who was hanging around at that time.
That might explain why he didn’t befriend Garibaldi after her death. Carlo
didn’t like the man but couldn’t explain why.”

“I can understand that part of it. But
it still takes away his motive,” the nun said, accepting the cold bottle of
water from Tortini. “And I also don’t see why he would then become an
accomplice to the abortion of his own grandchild. The law states that any
hospital can perform a legal abortion if the duration is shorter than ninety
days, and her term was probably less than that. Why do you think Enzo took
Nicola to a private abortionist—something that remains illegal?”

“That’s a good question,” he said.
“Let’s take care of first things first. Dr. Piombo can do a preliminary work up
on the sample we are just sending over. We might receive some results within a
few days if he gets on it now. If Garibaldi’s DNA matches Bernardo’s, even if
it’s just an initial test, then we can approach him about what he knew.”

“He might just confess something,” she
said. “After all, we caught him in a lie. That would buy us time until we figured
out how and why he did it.”

“I’m tired now, Sister, but I know it’ll
all hang together tomorrow,” he said uncertainly.

“My evening isn’t over yet either,” said
the nun, sighing. “I think I’ll head over to Santa Anna Hospital in Petraggio.
I want to make sure Nicola’s all right.”

“I can give you a lift, Sister, but how
are you going to make it back?”

“It’s Wednesday night, Alessandro. The
busses run until midnight. I can make it back on my own.”

Garibaldi went back to the office after
a late dinner. He did not feel like facing his wife just yet. No doubt she
would be looking for him, hunting him down. Gina would relish doing that,
reminding him that the company, houses, and boat were not really his—not since
she had rescued him financially when Garibaldi Olive Oil Company nearly went
under ten years earlier. She would taunt him, threatening to take it back if he
did anything unwise.

He slid open his drawer and extracted a
bottle of scotch. That was a gift from Gina too. Was anything actually his? Nicola
was. She loved him—at least since Bernardo came between them. Stupid boy. Why
did he have to be slow like that? No doubt it was something on his mother’s
side of the family. He poured himself a double and swigged it, letting the
glass fall to the floor. His eyes watered as the burning liquid coated his
throat. He felt the pain in his chest and choked, refusing to inhale until his
brain forced him to. Then he put his head down on his desk and sobbed. “Oh Jesus,
please help me. Make Nicola still want me.”

The response was not what he had prayed
for. It crept into his mind like the persistent drip of a leaky faucet. He remembered
Bernardo, walking into his office one day, pulling up a chair. The words were
cold, like bullets.

“Who are you to tell Nicola and me what
to do? How dare
you talk to
us about what’s right and what’s wrong.”

“Now, Bernardo,” he said, a half smile
creeping across
his lower
lip. “I know what the nuns taught you about incest. You realize you can’t keep
the baby. It would be wrong, pure and simple. I know you don’t want to take
Nicola to hell with you, do you, Bernardo?”

“I’m not a child, Garibaldi. If you
harass her again, I’ll kill
you.”

“Oh, and that ought to solve everything.
You’ll be put away,
and
neither of us will get her.”

“Don’t think I won’t do it,” Bernardo said,
tears
stinging his eyes. He
slumped back in his chair.

“Now that’s better, boy. Maybe we should
be talking about
how to get
you a job somewhere far away.”

“I think Nicola was right, you know. My
sister’s pretty smart,
don’t
you think?”

“She can be, yes,” Garibaldi said
dismissively.

Bernardo stood and moved the chair back.
“I’m going to tell
your
wife about the whole affair if you ever approach her that way again.”

“Gina doesn’t even know you. What makes
you think she
would listen
to you?”

“I know about you and my mother. Your
wife might have
had
a feeling about that one too.”

“What makes you think I haven’t told her
already? You
wouldn’t
understand, but Gina and I have a pretty open relationship. She has her
affairs. I have mine. Do you think it would shock her?” Garibaldi asked, never
once letting the smirk fade. “I don’t believe you know what revenge or its
consequence is, do you, Bernardo? Vittorio may have told you something about
Mariella and me, but you must have already seen Vittorio’s condition. He’s a
crazy old man who doesn’t remember anything clearly.”

Bernardo tugged at his waistband and
pulled out a handgun,
pointing
it directly at Garibaldi. The business owner immediately sat forward, the first
lines of concern crossing his brow.

“I don’t care about what you
and my mother did together. I’m talking
about Nicola. She needs to know that you fooled around with our mother. She
needs to know what you are really like.” The end of the gun wavered. Bernardo
stepped forward, trying to steady the unfamiliar piece.

“Is she tiring of you now that she knows
you are her brother?
You
sound desperate,” Garibaldi spat, pushing the nose of the handgun to one side
and then easily wrenching it from Bernardo’s grip.

“I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t
leave her alone. If I hear that
you have contacted her again at all...”

Garibaldi removed the ammunition and
leaned forward to
hand the
empty gun back to Bernardo. He pressed a button on his phone before sitting
back again.

Bernardo retreated to the open doorway.

“You’ll what, Bernardo? I don’t think
killing me will solve
anything.
I understand you are probably incapable of thinking of the consequences of your
actions so let me explain what might happen to you if you kill me.”

Glancing down the corridor, Bernardo
stood uneasily in the
entryway.

“Or is it that you are incapable of finishing
the dirty deed—that you are too stupid to succeed at anything you do?”

“And you, sir, are too frightened to get
rid of me,” Bernardo said, tilting his head toward the button. “You have
to get your henchmen to do it for you.”

“They are just the security guards
coming to escort you to the door. You know them from work, Bernardo. You
greet them each day you come here and have eaten with them in the
cafeteria.”

“Yes. I know them, but I never ate with
them. They are scum, Garibaldi. Just like you.”

Bernardo suddenly turned, marched down
the hall and through the lobby to the glass doors with the empty gun tucked in his
waistband. When he got to the front doors, he pulled the weapon out and like
the stub of a cigarette stuffed it into the fine sand of the ashcan. Then he
exited and strolled down the spotlighted walkway. At the parking lot, he glanced
back and probably noticed that three men had followed him out the exit.

Garibaldi stood in the shafts of light
from the overhead lamps and gazed down the walk as Bernardo’s figure
disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the parking lot. “You are a
walking time-bomb, boy,” Garibaldi muttered before turning to walk back inside.”

The scene vanished, and picking up the
unbroken tumbler from the floor, Garibaldi reached for his bottle again.

*

Nicola stopped the cab at the end of the
driveway and paid the driver as she got out. Then she gathered her belongings
and passed through the wrought iron gates. Her step was strong and confident.

“Good morning, Nicola. I’m glad to see
you,” said Antonella, placing one last rinsed dish on the stack.

“Where’s Carlo?” Nicola asked.

“He’s with Gisella. They are out and
about, preparing for Saturday.”

Nicola hesitated. “I think I want to
plan a picnic. What do I do?”

“
I
can help you,” said Antonella.
“Where are you going and for how many?”

“Just out among the trees in the
orchard. Only two. Let’s make it nice and romantic.”

Antonella seemed surprised. “But I
didn’t know you had met someone else. I’m so glad to hear it, Nicola. Tell me about
him.”

“You’ll find out,” she said. “I’ll be
out to help in a few minutes.

*

Sister Angela took the phone out of her
pocket and dialed the inspector at the station. She looked at her watch. It was
just ten-thirty. “Is the inspector there?”

“No, Sister,” Tortini said. “He should
be back before lunch. Can I help?”

But the phone had already gone dead. The
nun caught the early bus to Montriano. She was not so happy to find Stefano at
the wheel. After all, his former employer, Garibaldi, had implicated him in a
crime.

“Good morning, Sister Angela,” he said.
“You look agitated. Is there anything wrong?”

Tight-lipped, the nun said, “I would
like to make it back to Montriano as quickly as possible.”

“We are on our way, Sister. There are
only two stops between here and there. Luckily, you have caught the express.”

“Thank you, Stefano.” The nun was quiet
until they were on the straight road approaching the foothills. She slid over
the empty seat beside her so she could sit directly behind him. “You know,
Stefano, Mr. Garibaldi spoke of you at the interrogation last evening.”

There was silence.

“About the trip to Bologna?” he finally
asked.

“Yes. He said you helped him deliver the
weighted casket to San Felipe. Is this true?”

“Didn’t I mention that when we talked
last?”

“I know you like to speak kindly of your
former boss, but maybe you should tell me what you know. I wouldn’t want you to
be surprised if he tries to implicate you.”

Again there was silence.

“I know about the baby, yes,” he
confessed.

“The baby that didn’t belong to Vittorio
Vitali?”

“I didn’t know that for sure, but I suspected.”

“Why?”

“Because of the way Mr. Garibaldi acted
when he found out she was giving birth. They were very close, you know.”

“Vittorio and Enzo?”

“No. Mr. Garibaldi and Mrs. Vitali. She
was often with him, even visiting him at his summer house in Vernazza.”

“So you think the baby was Enzo’s?”

“I don’t know for sure, but the thought
did cross my mind. I guess I should have been upset by the affair, but I just
figured the rich did that sort of thing all the time. The Garibaldis and the
Vitalis are different than we are, you know—more like in
Dynasty
. Did
you ever watch that program, Sister? It had subtitles so it was hard to follow,
but I could understand it by the pictures.”

Nothing about this case surprised the
nun. “And what happened to the baby?” she asked.

“I don’t really know. I left that job
shortly after the incident.”

Sister Angela sat back and braced
herself for the rolling curves of the hill. She had to make it to the station
and tell Alessandro about Enzo’s affair.

*

Nicola replaced the receiver. Even
though he most likely doubted she was ready to resume the romance, she knew he
would come. Nicola could hear it in his voice when she told him she would meet
him at the place—not the spot where she and Bernardo made love amongst the
leccino olive trees—but in the little valley where Enzo announced his love
months earlier. It was protected. There were steep rock embankments on both
sides of the orchard. Few workers would be out there today, and Carlo was with
Gisella. It was a perfect time.

She pulled the empty handgun out of her
bag. It was Carlo’s. Nicola did not know why Gisella left it on her desk. Did
Carlo know Gisella had taken it? Nicola knew Carlo kept the ammunition
somewhere in the kitchen but was not sure where. Suddenly Antonella walked in,
and Nicola slipped the gun down the waist of her pants.

“Here’s the basket, Nicola. Come in here
and see what I have found to put in it,” the housekeeper said.

*

The nun, hot and winded, arrived at the
station at eleven-thirty. It was not so hot today but it was humid. She was
glad to see the fan still blowing across the lobby.

“Is Inspector DiMarco here?”

Tortini got up and raised the countertop
to let her in. “Yes, of course. He’s in his office. You look warm. Permit me to
get you some water.”

“Yes, please,” she said, trundling back
to the small office along the corridor.

The inspector got the nun a chair and
then sat down behind his desk.

“Did you get any results from Andreus?”
she asked right away.

“No. Unfortunately, a positive identification
will probably take weeks,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “I thought you
would be here earlier. What kept you?”

“I went to the hospital last night.
Nicola seemed better, but I think she was on an anti-depression medicine of
some kind. I scanned the chart but couldn’t decipher any of the writing. So
this morning I got up early and went back. I couldn’t speak with anyone there
last night but hoped to find a nurse or doctor today.”

“And? Did you talk to someone?”

“Yes. But only briefly and not about the
medication,” she said, her voice revealing an edge. “Nicola left.”

“Left? I thought she was under
observation. Wasn’t anyone watching her? Did someone arrive to pick her up?”

“She was supposedly heavily sedated and
wasn’t free to go. Unfortunately, no one watched her take it, and they found
the pills in the pocket of her gown. She wasn’t in a ‘lock-up’ ward so she just
walked out.”

“Where do you think she went?”

“Hand me the phone. I’ll call around.”

The nun first dialed Carlo. Antonella
answered it. “Carlo isn’t here, Sister. He’s with Gisella. I don’t think he’ll
be back until late this evening.”

“Is Nicola there?”

“Oh yes. She’s feeling much better. She
was a bit sick the other evening but looks good now.”

“May I speak with her then?”

“No. I’m afraid she has filled a picnic
basket, Sister, and plans to meet someone out in the orchards. I’m not sure,
but from this window I can still see her car out there. Oh, and there’s another
car there now. I didn’t see it come in. It looks like the one Mr. Garibaldi
drives himself. If his driver were with him, I would have known because Pio
would have come in for coffee while his boss took care of business. I hope Mr. Garibaldi
isn’t expecting Carlo to be at the mill. He must know about the wedding—that Carlo
would be busy.”