“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.”
If Antonella continued talking, Sister Angela did not hear it. She had already hung up.
“We need to get over to L’Oro Verde, Alessandro. I’m not sure why Nicola scheduled a rendezvous with Mr. Garibaldi, but considering the length of time since the procedure, I don’t think it is a lover’s tryst.”
*
Nicola ran forward to meet Garibaldi as he appeared over the top of the rise.
“I’m glad you came,” she said coyly. “Come over here. I’ve packed wine and cheese. I also brought a dish of your oil to dip the bread in.”
“Nicola, are you sure you are all right? It hasn’t been that long since the procedure.”
“Ah yes, I’m fine. I’m feeling much better. Both you and the doctor, or whatever you call the one who takes the baby, assured me I would mend quickly.”
“Yes but not mentally, I think.”
“That’s where I’m the strongest, Enzo,” she said, sitting him down on the cloth and pouring the wine. “I want to show you how good I feel,” she said, her voice almost guttural.
He smiled in response. He must have still been wary, but the slight smile could not be helped. She put out some cheese and bread but ate nothing.
Dipping the bread in a dish of oil, he took a bite, his face suddenly scrunching up. “What’s this, Nicola? Why does the oil taste this way? Don’t try any of it. I think it’s spoiled.”
“I made it that way.”
“What’s the matter with you, Nicola? I thought you needed me and wanted to show me that today.” He put his hand on hers and leaned forward to kiss her. She turned her head away.
*
Sister Angela and DiMarco marched over the ridge, but neither Nicola nor Enzo seemed to notice. He had his hand on the back of her head attempting to kiss her lips, but she leaned back, trying to push him away.
“Mr. Garibaldi,” DiMarco called out. “I sense the woman doesn’t want the attention. Please release her now.”
“Inspector, your arrival is ill-timed. The woman herself invited me for this purpose.”
“Nicola isn’t well, Enzo,” the nun scolded. “Shame on you.”
“Maybe we should inform you now of the evidence against you so that Miss Vitali is aware of it,” DiMarco said.
“The DNA results wouldn’t be ready yet,” said Garibaldi. “Adriano told me the test would take weeks and that it’s neither accurate nor conclusive.”
“You are only buying time, Garibaldi. Miss Vitali, are you aware that Bernardo wasn’t really your brother, but most likely your half-brother?”
“What?”
“Your mother delivered a son in Bologna in February of 1985, but Mr. Vitali wasn’t the father of that child,” the inspector said. “While we are still awaiting the final results of a match between Bernardo’s DNA and that of Mr. Garibaldi, we have already concluded that the head of Garibaldi Olive Oil is most likely the missing relative, or at least, knows who is.”
You have nothing,” Garibaldi spat out.
“We know that you and Mariella Vitali had an affair that lasted some time and ended when the baby was born.”
“You had an affair with my mother?”
“We were good friends. That was all,” Garibaldi said.
“And that’s why you were involved in the deception concerning the birth and the adoption of the boy by the Renis,” DiMarco said. “Was Bernardo really so impaired, Garibaldi, or did you three just decide to hide the infidelity?”
“Sister Angela knows he was slow, don’t you, Sister?” Garibaldi said.
“He wasn’t slow,” Nicola insisted. “He was just better at using his hands. He was interested in mechanical things. He fixed the machines at the plant and even the computers in my department.”
“Sometimes the education system doesn’t recognize those talents,” said Sister Angela. “You knew him better, I think, Nicola.”
“But I don’t believe that’s all,” said the inspector. “Garibaldi, maybe you should tell Nicola why you made sure she had a private abortion instead of a legal one—one performed in a hospital.”
Nicola looked in his direction. Garibaldi stood helpless. “My God, you convinced me to kill your own grandson. Why? So the baby would never claim some of your money?” She paused, but only for a second or two. “Did you ask my mother the same thing? Did you ask her to get an abortion too?”
“I believe the DNA will support the theory that Garibaldi is Bernardo’s father, but it may take a few weeks to find out for sure,” D
iMarco said.
Nicola suddenly lifted an object out of her waistband and pointed it at Garibaldi. “You killed him, didn’t you? You killed Bernardo.”
At first, the three were too shocked to react. Stunned, they all stood facing Nicola.
“Bernardo wasn’t what you thought, Nicola,” Garibaldi said. “He knew about it. He figured out that Vitali wasn’t his father and blackmailed his way into the company. He was aware of our affair too and told me he went after you to make me jealous.”
“I think you have confused some of your facts,” she said.
Nicola could not have shot him. She must have wanted to, but the gun was still empty. She later admitted that she had found it on her desk at work but did not know where the bullets were. Letting the gun drop to the ground, she turned her back to him. Sister Angela realized that this was the first step. It would take a long time for her to recover. But Nicola had taken the first step.
Twenty Four
Sister Angela pressed her hanky to the corner of her eye. She was weepy again, the third or fourth time today.
The inspector handed her a full glass of red wine. “This’ll help,” he said.
It was a glorious day. Sister Angela, DiMarco, Tortini, and Sister Daniela sat at a long picnic table set up under a tent in a field at L’Oro Verde. They had not been invited to the wedding at Santa Maria Church but went anyway. After all, they knew the couple well. They were friends.
Vittorio invited them to the reception that followed. He seemed much happier than they had seen him before. Maybe it was because he was now meeting his wife at the cemetery at least once a week. He claimed to talk with her, and it comforted him.
Sister Angela looked out at the trees, the heavy dark purple drupes stood out against the tiny silver-gray leaves. The colorless trunks twisted and branched out unpredictably. She picked up an olive from the dish of oil on the table and popped it into her mouth. Such gifts, olives—the fine differences in flavor and texture between them were a treat.
Someone had spun the long grasses carpeting the sides of the hill into strands of gold. Over the treetops, she distinguished the valley beyond, making out colorful squares of farmland under a bluish haze—fog rising after a shower the night before. The sky was very blue. Surely the mists would vanish soon, though it was truly a heavenly sight.
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