“No, no. I’m not in search of a certain fragrance,” the novice said. “Well, actually I am. But I don’t know its name. When I inquired at the perfume counter at the store, they said only you would be able to identify what I need. They said you were very good at that because you knew your business.”
“Oh,” the woman said, beginning to relax. “What do you have?”
Sister Daniela slipped the bag from her pack and handed it to the shopkeeper who opened it and put it to her nose. She immediately turned away, her face crumpled like a prune.
“I’m sorry,” the novice said. “It’s difficult to make out the fragrance. I’m afraid the occupants of the house smoke.”
“I suggest you get a better sample, if you can’t ask the recipient for a name directly.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. The owner of this shirt is dead. I’m investigating a murder, and the wearer of that fragrance is a possible witness.”
The shopkeeper sniffed again. “I do smell something there, though it’s faint.” She walked along the counter to a section of sale items. “Try this,” she said, spraying some on the novice’s wrist.
The novice put it to her nose and then sniffed the shirt. “They do smell similar,” she noted, inhaling the scent again, just to be sure. “What’s it called?”
“This is called Brezza Marina by Carrero. Would you like me to wrap up a bottle for you?”
“Sea Breeze? That’s a pretty name. I’m afraid I can’t afford to pay for a bottle of perfume.”
“This brand is an economical one. It isn’t really classified as a perfume. I don’t know why the department store couldn’t identify it. This is the type of aroma they sell. I have it on sale for the tourists but probably won’t reorder it.”
“You have really helped me. All I need is the name. If the police are interested, they will return and buy some.”
Sister Daniela walked back up to the register to stuff the plastic bag with the shirt into her pack. About halfway, she stopped and stuck out her other wrist. “Do you mind letting me try the one in the silver and blue box?”
The shopkeeper picked up the sample bottle and gave the novice a quick spritz.
“Thank you. This is my favorite. It’s a Versace, isn’t it? I would give anything to receive a bottle of this,” Sister Daniela said, turning to leave. “I promise I’ll recommend your shop to all of my friends.”
*
The two policemen indeed went directly to the hospital after leaving Paolo and Giuliana. DiMarco was positive they could get something from the institution this time, even if it was an admission of bungled records. Mr. Ferro was right. The whole medical system did seem to have problems keeping them straight.
The office of historical records was a small room in the basement. The man in line in front of them, looking like some kind of deliveryman, leaned on the desk and talked to the administrator. The woman giggled. Afraid the conversation would never end, DiMarco shifted his weight several times before he finally waved his badge.
“Can I help you?” she asked, sounding annoyed.
“We would like to see the records of a Bernardo Reni, born in this hospital in February 1985.”
“Someone called here yesterday. I already checked. There was no one by that name born here that year or any date in February.”
“Could it be under the name Ferro?” Lazaro asked.
She clicked away at her computer. “Yes. A Giuliana Ferro was here but it was in 1995 for stomach ailment
“Are you sure you have all the records?” the inspector asked. “I mean, is it possible that some of them were lost?”
“Sir, the records are certified to be complete since 1975. Before that, we might have had a problem, but the audit has been clean since then. There has never been a Bernardo Reni or a Giuseppe or Valeria Reni in this hospital. At least not since 1975,” she said, her voice getting louder.
DiMarco was impressed that she remembered all the names from the call the day before.
The clerk’s boyfriend left, probably thinking the policemen would be there for a while. That seemed to make her even more upset. “Did you know you could check the insurance records under the name Reni and the family’s address?” she continued. “That is, unless they have private insurance. But they probably don’t because patients with private don’t usually drop into a strange hospital to deliver.”
“Is it possible there were errors when the records were loaded into a computer?”
“All manual records are in boxes in a warehouse on Via Orazio. I can’t guarantee they’re filed in a convenient system. If you have resources available to search through the paperwork, though, I can probably get you access to the records.”
With that, the woman stood up and excused herself. The two officers waited for five minutes before realizing she was not going to return. They finally left.
As they walked to the car, Lazaro’s stomach growled. They both heard it. It was nearly three, and they had not eaten lunch.
“How about some nice pasta and wine, sir? We should eat something before we go back.”
The inspector did not answer his question. “I can’t believe we are returning empty handed. I felt sure we would get some answers today. This looks bad, Tortini. How am I going to explain this to the chief?” He pounded his fist on the roof of Lazaro’s Fiat. “Get in the car. I’ll figure out something.”
The drive back from Roma was quiet. Neither officer spoke. They could not believe they had no new information. Unable to endure the silence, Lazaro turned on the radio. DiMarco, irritated by his partner’s choice of music, finally removed the cd from his pocket and inserted it. The soothing timbre of the notes from a Tosca aria always eased his nerves. He tried hard to concentrate on the music, but the haunting notes sent his mind back to the Ferros. What were they hiding?
*
Tortini was moody too. At first, he was surprised by their failure, even though he knew it was a possibility. He looked over at his superior. DiMarco’s eyes were closed. Maybe he should not interrupt him just now. It could wait until later.
This was hard to take. They were both so positive they would bring home the answers to the nagging inconsistencies regarding Bernardo’s birth. Why was there no resolution? Everyone seemed to have a different answer. And why no official birth certificate? How does one exist without one? Did the hospital lose it? What was the family trying to hide?
Lazaro turned off the A1 at the exit to Petraggio. DiMarco’s mouth hung open, his breathing shallow. The officer reached over to eject the cd.
“Don’t touch that, Tortini. I’m not in the mood.
Twelve
Inspector DiMarco was in the office early. It was not easy. Aware the pressure would be on, he had to force himself to get up that morning. By now, the bishop had already spoken to the chief. He was not sure how he would explain why there was no real evidence so far. Yes, the prime suspect was still Father Domenic. No, there was nothing to support that except an alleged assault charge made six years ago by a former altar boy and a burlap-like robe, implicating most of Montriano.
“The church vowed it would no longer help with the case,” DiMarco told his wife that night. “I called to ask the priest a question, and Mrs. Torrisi told me Father Domenic wasn’t at the rectory. After questioning the housekeeper further, she revealed he was at a retreat, and she didn’t know when he would return. Something cooked up by the bishop, no doubt. It will now take a trip to the courts to do any more searching of either the rectory or the offices there.”
Trying to come up with the next move, the inspector stayed up half the night. Sister Angela and Lazaro had both figured the answer lay in Roma. Now he had to come up with another angle before morning. He wanted to call the nun, but it was too late by the time he arrived home. It would take too long to explain what had happened, and the call could wait until morning anyway.
Expecting to be summoned across the hall to the captain’s office any minute, he sat at his desk, sipping
his coffee and reading his email. Just as he envisioned it, there was a knock at his door.
“Good morning, inspector,” the young woman said cheerfully.
She was the new clerk, Luisa, who sat behind the counter and answered the phones. DiMarco did not know the new clerk very well. She seemed fairly efficient and well-dressed.
Maybe her skirt was a bit short, but her blouse was always buttoned to the top.
“Good morning, Luisa.”
“The chief wants to see you in his office. He’ll be free in five minutes.”
“Thanks,” he sighed.
“Oh, and there was a message on the radio nearly an hour ago. An Officer Camurri from Petraggio is bringing someone in to see you,” Luisa said, reaching for the door to close it.
“Wait. You mean Antonio Camurri? What does he want?”
“It’s something about Sister Angela’s request to find a girl—um, a Gisella. Does that ring a bell?”
For the first time, a smile began to creep across his face. “Is Tortini here yet?” he asked.
“He should be in soon. He’s usually here on the hour.”
DiMarco started to press the buttons on his phone. “Tell him I want to see him as soon as he gets here.” He stopped in mid-dial. “Oh. And please explain to the chief I’ll have to postpone our meeting until this afternoon. Tell him I have another murder witness coming in.”
She walked out and closed the door behind her.
“Hello, Sister Angela, can you come in right away?”
*
The young woman from Petraggio was quite a sight. Officer Camurri led her in and lifted the counter for her. The station went quiet as he led her across the busy room, stopping at the open door to DiMarco’s office.
“Inspector DiMarco, this is Gisella Lupoi,” he said.
Still out of breath from running up the hill, Sister Angela turned around. Lazaro stood in the corner. All stared, their mouths agape.
Gisella peeked inside the door. Sister Angela must have noticed the hair. Short red spikes shot up like fireworks. And then there was the earring—or earrings to be more exact. There were several in each lobe and one especially shiny ring in her left nostril.
“Hello, Sir. Did you want to talk to me?”
DiMarco looked up surprised by the timid voice. He noticed the outfit first. The tank top was sheer, and her young breasts were very firm and forward underneath it. The skirt was short. He did not know where to look.
“Do you want me to set up the room?” Lazaro offered. “I’ll just to get the machine ready.” Most likely picturing one of his daughters in the witness’s place, Tortini must have wanted to get out of there. Of course, his eldest was only twelve but a bit rebellious already. He did not need help imagining what lay ahead.
“Yes, child,” Sister Angela said, getting up from her chair and placing her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “We can all talk better in the room back here. Can I get you anything to drink? A coat maybe? Are you cold?”
“Cola, thanks.”
“Do you need me?” Camurri asked.
“No, Antonio. Thank you. We’ll get her back to Petraggio,” DiMarco said.
The room was set up within twenty minutes, and DiMarco finally walked in with some papers.
He held the microphone to his lips. “Interview with Miss Gisella Lupoi on Thursday the twenty-seventh of July. Present are Officer Tortini, Sister Angela, and myself. Please state your whole name.”
“You said it. Why do I have to do it again?”
“Into the microphone in front of you, please.”
“Gisella Anuncia Gianluca Lupoi.”
“Age?”
“Eighteen.”
“And where do you work?”
“Garibaldi’s Olive Oil.”
“And you knew the victim, Bernardo Reni?”
“Yes. He worked with me at Garibaldi’s.”
“What department are you in?” the nun asked, interrupting the inspector. “Did you work in bottling with him?”
“No Sister. I’m a receptionist in the marketing department.”
“Then how did you know Bernardo?” Sister Angela asked.
“He often came over to my department.”
“Why would someone in the bottling department visit marketing?”
“He carried reports between the department managers,” Gisella said. “I thought that was his job, being a messenger.”
“Did you go out with him?” the inspector asked.
“We went for a glass of wine at a nightclub once,” she said, tugging at her short skirt and then pulling a thin strap back up onto her shoulder. “After that, we met a couple of times to talk.”
“And where was that?”
“Around. There are hangouts in the neighborhoods,” she said, turning to Sister Angela. “One of them is the cemetery adjacent to Santa Maria’s. Young people need privacy when they talk so most of us go to the cemetery. At night, adults are too scared to come round.”
“So you only met him three times?”
“Just a few, yes. He wasn’t really my type, you know, being kind of uninterested in things outside of the valley, but he had lots of feelings. He made me feel better when I was mad about something.”
“Did you give him drugs?”
“Now why would I admit to that? Do you think I’m stupid? I would never tell the police I was selling drugs. It’s none of your damn business!”
The inspector knew he was not getting anywhere. He was not prepared for this witness and decided he would change the direction of his questioning. “Miss Lupoi, what did Bernardo usually talk about?”
“He often described the stars. He knew all of them, you know.”
“In the movies?”
“No, all the constellations. When the weather was clear, he pointed them out in the sky. That’s why the cemetery was nice. There weren’t many lights.”
“Did he talk about other people?”
“No—Yes, sometimes we spoke about people at work. He would imitate some of the bottlers. He was funny,” she said, wiping something from the corner of her eye. “I usually talked about people I work with because I was angry with them. He comforted me. When I got really mad, he said he would speak with them for me.”
“Did he ever seem frightened or talk about anyone who might have threatened him?”
“Never. He was always up. He trusted everyone. I’m the one who doubted.”
“Sister Angela or Officer Tortini, do you have any questions?”
“Just a few from me, Inspector,” Sister Angela said, pausing to take a sip of water. “I didn’t see you at Bernardo’s funeral, Gisella. Did you go?”
“Yes. It was crowded, don’t you think? I didn’t really see you either.”
“Where were you sitting?”
Gisella’s face turned red. “A group of us from the plant came. We were in the center of the church on the right side.”
“Ah. I remember an accident on that side of the church. Was the person who fainted in your group?”
“It was me. I got a bit dizzy from the heat.”
A murmur erupted from the others in the room.
“So dizzy that your friends had to carry you out?” DiMarco asked.
“I guess so. I don’t really remember. That’s what they told me. I recall the church and the music, and then I remember my friend’s house on Via Scuola.”
“Did you return?” Sister Angela asked gently.
“No. I wasn’t feeling well. Someone drove me home.”
“Things like that happen, Gisella. I have another question if you don’t mind. I was wondering what perfume you wear.”
DiMarco, obviously surprised by this question, waved his hand in Lazaro’s direction, trying to get him to turn off the machine. That is all the chief needed to hear—ladies bantering about their beauty products. Why would Sister Angela ask such a question?
“I don’t wear any. My father’s allergic. He gets very sick. Nobody in my family wears a
ny.”
“I can see this interview is over,” DiMarco finally said.
“Oh no, Alessandro. I have one more. Please bear with me.”
“I’m late for work,” Gisella said, beginning to stir.
“Just one more, dear,” Sister Angela said, turning to face Bernardo’s possible lover. “Did you know Bernardo before you worked for Garibaldi’s? Did you recommend him for the job?”
“No,” she said simply. “I told you I met him at work, which is where I should be now. Please drop me off there. I think I can explain to them what happened so they don’t fire me,” she said, standing and unsuccessfully tugging at her skirt.
“Officer Tortini, please ask Officer Conti to drive her to Garibaldi’s.”
“I don’t think Liana has a car.”
“Give her yours, Tortini.” He turned to the young girl. “Are you sure you don’t want to go home first and get ready for work?”
Gisella looked at him innocently, her head tilted, her aqua blue eyes open wide. Gisella’s narrow crescent brows tugged at her lids, framing the large pools. DiMarco would have melted had he been able to take his eyes off the nose ring.
*
“I think I got the name of that perfume you wanted,” Sister Daniela said as soon as she could find Sister Angela.
They each took a desk in Sister Angela’s classroom, and the novice plopped down in the seat.
Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m not certain, but I think it smelled like the shirt. Let me see. I wrote it down on a piece of paper I put here in my bag. I decided not to buy some because even though it was on sale and only toilet water, I couldn’t afford that and a bus ticket back here. Oh, here it is!”
“What’s the name?”
“It’s Sea Breeze by Carrero. Does that sound familiar to you? I had never heard of it before even though lower prices usually catch my eye.”
“You did a good job, Sister. I’ll have to see what I can do with this.”
“I would ask if there’s anything else for me to do, but there’s a problem,” Sister Daniela said. “It seems the mother vicaress heard of my success as a detective. She called me in last night.”
“Oh my. I suppose she doesn’t see the necessity of tracking down criminals in our midst.”
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