The nun could hear a scrape on the stones. Nicola was either moving in from the window or squeezing her other leg out.
“May I come up? I would rather see you when I speak with you.”
There was a hesitation.
“I suppose. But stay against the far wall. I’ll jump if you come too close.”
With perspiration running down the side of her face, Sister Angela walked slowly up the last ten steps. Hopefully there would be fresh air coming in through the window. She stopped at the top step and sat down.
“Are you all right, Sister?”
“Yes. I just need to rest,” she said, looking at the shaded face of the young woman.
Because of the glare from outside, she was unable to make out if the sheen on Nicola’s face was perspiration or tears. The young woman spun around to face outside. A small crowd had formed below.
“Nicola, please tell me why you’re here. I should have talked to you last week. I made it seem as though the investigation into Bernardo’s murder was more important than those it affected.”
“Poor Bernardo. Do you know who did it yet?”
“No. I assume your father didn’t. He seems to have loved the boy even though he sent him away,” the nun said, talking fast. “I don’t think it was Carlo. Common sense says he had nothing to fear from his brother. Carlo also seemed to feel that you were an adult, and while concerned, he was only there to help.”
“That leaves me, doesn’t it, Sister?”
“I don’t think so. Why would you be here?”
“I feel guilty, that’s why. I lied to you. I murdered him and want to confess to the whole world,” she said, swinging her arms.
Plaster crumbled from around the frame.
The nun held her breath. “Please be careful, Nicola. It wouldn’t do for you to fall by accident.”
“It will be as God wishes, Sister.”
“What do you mean, child? God doesn’t want you to kill yourself. That would indeed be a sin.”
“No. The sins aren’t only here. They are numerous.”
“Let me see. You fell in love with someone before you found out he was your brother. That doesn’t sound like one to me.”
“But when I found out—when we both found out—we didn’t stop.”
“Surely no one expected you to turn on and off your feelings just like that.”
“And the baby? I wanted it. I made sure the bond between Bernardo and me couldn’t be broken—that even if I lost Bernardo, I would still have a part of him.”
Again the nun’s breath caught in her throat. “Tell me about it, Nicola.”
“What’s there to say? When I heard we might be related, I made sure there would be something to keep them from breaking us up.”
“Who wanted you two to break up, Nicola? Your father?”
“Yes, and Carlo. Actually, Father was too busy dealing with Carlo’s marriage. He was trying to cover that up because he was disappointed in Carlo’s choice.” She laughed. “Just think what he’ll say when he finds out that I was in love with Bernardo.”
“Carlo said he told you about your relationship with Bernardo—that you were brother and sister. Was that the first time you heard it?”
“No. Bernardo and I knew weeks before that. Enzo warned me. He said that my father would soon find out.”
“Where’s the baby? If you jump, you’ll kill it too.”
“No, I already killed it,” she said, inching forward. “What was there to lose? I already murdered Bernardo. I found the processional cross and hit him on the head.”
“But you didn’t kill him,” Sister Angela said. “The assailant didn’t use the cross, Nicola.”
The young woman broke down, wiping her tears with her dirty hands. “But he would still be alive if no one had found out about it. He tried to stay away from me, but I enticed him. I lured him to bind us so no one could break us up. Oh my God, how could he have known what I was leading him to?”
“You lured him back because you loved him. There’s nothing wrong with that. I don’t believe you had an evil purpose for it, Nicola. You loved him, and God recognizes that love.”
“But I murdered the baby.”
“When?”
“Two nights ago.”
The nun stood up, but did not approach her. “Did Enzo help you?” she asked.
“He says he loves me. He was worried about me.”
“Did he tell you that you shouldn’t keep the baby?”
“Yes, but he was right. I knew it. The baby would only bring shame on my family and on itself. I couldn’t bear it if the baby was treated like Bernardo was.”
“Bernardo was loved by you, Nicola. I don’t think he ever thought he was treated badly. I knew him. You must have given him extreme happiness.”
Nicola pulled a foot in through the window and placed it on the floor.
“And the baby would have felt little pain with a parent who loved it like you would have. Enzo was wrong to tell you that. He’s married. If he said he loved you then he’s the one who sinned.”
The nun walked slowly toward the window and wrapped her arm around the young woman’s shoulder. “Nicola, you tried so hard to please everyone but forgot about yourself. You have made honest mistakes, and I’m convinced that God forgives them.”
*
Sister Angela knew it would happen and hesitated before going to dinner. She was tired. The sun that beat down on Montriano all day was gone. Huge clouds bloomed in front of it and now covered it. She could hear the rumble in the distance, heralding the approach of rain. She should have been relieved, but was not. It should have cooled down, but it did not.
About a half hour before the evening meal, Mother Margherita summoned the nun to her office. Washing her face and neck with cool water and replacing her collar, Sister Angela plodded to the mother superior’s office. Perhaps she would be able to eat if she faced the problem first.
He was there, of course, standing against the opposite wall of the office. “Good evening, Sister,” he said. “I’ve been informed that you were busy today. I think we should talk about your misstep before you’re tempted to make the error again. Please sit down. I’m sure you need the chair more than I do.”
“I’ll just go out and find another, Father,” Mother Margherita said.
“Good evening to you, Father Sergio,” Sister Angela said. “Thank you. I must admit, I got more than my usual exercise and nearly suffered from heatstroke.”
“That might explain it, then. But I think we should go over how you handled things today just to remind you.”
“Father Sergio, I remember exactly what I told Nicola and don’t feel the least apologetic for my words.”
“You should have waited for the experts or at least Father Domenic.”
“There wasn’t time to wait for the experts. I wasn’t sure how serious she was about her threats. As for Father Domenic, I’m not convinced a man could have told her what she needed to hear. It was men who drove her up there in the first place.”
“But you have no authority to tell her she did not sin, Sister Angela. Only a priest can advise her. There will certainly be a hearing on your ability to minister outside your vocation, and the reprimand may also interfere with your availability as a teacher.”
“I never told Miss Vitali she hadn’t sinned. She herself insisted that she had.”
“You implied it.”
“I told her that God forgives those who are sorry for their sins. This is what this Church professes, isn’t it?”
“She has murdered a child, Sister Angela.”
“And it’s up to God to forgive her and the courts to decide her guilt,” the nun said firmly. “If the bishop wishes to convene a meeting, I’ll certainly be in attendance. I appreciate your concern, Father, but I haven’t eaten all day and would like to go to dinner.” The nun stood and walked out of the office toward the cafeteria. If there was an objection, she did not hear it. And when she got to the dining room, she fo
und herself hungry indeed. She picked up a cold pasta salad and a piece of crusty bread. Then she sat down at a table full of fellow teachers.
“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.”
Twenty Three
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.”
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