L'Oro Verde (13 page)

“I’m waiting,” the chief said, “for
something more concrete from you. What exactly do we have on the priest?”

“We have very little on him so far,”
DiMarco admitted.

“It’s all circumstantial then. That’s
what I suspected. Why the hell did you bring him in?”

“We thought we had more, sir. We had the
cloth with Bernardo’s blood. We had his suspicious actions and a sexual assault
complaint by a young man at his old parish.”

“That you got from Sister Angela?”

“No sir. The police in Umbria offered it
when Tortini called there because that’s where the priest worked after seminary.
It was kind of a surprise.”

“The bishop doesn’t believe the rumors
are true.”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I
thought it would help make a stronger case so I had Tortini go prowling at his last
parish.”

“Oh joy. I don’t know how I’m going to
explain that to the bishop.”

“Sir, we also found the bloody robe the
murderer must have worn to protect his clothes. It was hidden in the basement
of the church. Someone had to have a good idea where to hide it.”

“And what’s wrong with the robe as
evidence?”

“It was used to mop up the floor,”
DiMarco said. “Any DNA would be contaminated.”

“You might do well to investigate a
possible frame of the priest by someone else. That’s probably why the murderer would
ditch the evidence there.”

“I understand that, but the complaint by
another so far away…”

The chief neatened the stack of papers
in front of him. They were the only items on his desk. “And who did you pull in
today?”

“The victim was known to have a
girlfriend. Mrs. Reni’s sister gave us the name.” DiMarco purposely left out
that the information had been given to the nun who then passed it on to him.

“Go on.”

“That’s all for now.”

“That’s all? What information did that
girl give you? How is she connected with the murder?”

“It’s all preliminary at this point, sir.
We now have to verify her story. It shouldn’t take long.”

“It damn well better not take long. I
don’t see that you’re getting anywhere. You couldn’t even figure out where the
boy was born? Why haven’t you just asked the parents, for God’s sake? Why are
you going around in circles? These trips to Roma cost the public money.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

“I want a full report on my desk by
Monday morning. That means it has to show progress. I have to be able to assure
the bishop that we aren’t pulling in priests in order to embarrass the Church.”
The chief ran his fingers through his thinning hair. He took some deep breaths.
“If you can’t do the job, I’ll assign it to someone else, DiMarco. We don’t pull
priests into this station without grounds, and I have to understand the
rationale behind it so I can repeat it to others. Do you understand me,
Inspector?”

“May I get back to work then, sir?”

The chief waved him out.

What more can go wrong?
The inspector thought.

He would learn the answer to that
question before the day was out.

When the inspector returned to his office,
there was a phone message from Sister Angela. She was catching the two o’clock
bus to Petraggio. Gisella made her think of a few more issues concerning
Bernardo’s job at Garibaldi’s. If he had any questions, he could reach her on
her cell phone.

Lazaro entered with the notes from the
meeting. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” the inspector mumbled,
leaning back in his chair. “Did the girl say anything incriminating about anyone?
Evidently Sister Angela picked up on something. She’s on her way back to
Garibaldi’s.”

“To tell you the truth, I suppose it
was
kind of strange. I can’t imagine someone like her wanting to go out with
the victim. Nor do I think Bernardo would have found that type of girl
attractive.”

“I agree, but you heard her. She did go
out with him—did seem to have an affection for the boy. I sure wish I knew
where she fit in, though.”

Luisa tapped on the open door. “Sir,
there’s a gentleman at the counter asking to see you. He says he’s Mr. Lupoi,”
she said, glancing back over her shoulder toward the counter. “He doesn’t look
very happy.”

DiMarco rose from his seat. “I can’t
believe this is happening,” he muttered as he approached the long counter. “Mr.
Lupoi, how can I help you?”

“How dare you drag my daughter in here
like a common criminal.”

Gisella’s father was at least six feet
tall and well over two hundred pounds. The inspector guessed he worked
outdoors, his T-shirt revealing strong brown arms. A large tattoo peeked out
from under one short sleeve and another spread out over the opposite wrist. The
inspector guessed the man grew and harvested grapes. DiMarco could feel the
perspiration on his forehead. Suddenly, a powerful-looking fist appeared out of
nowhere. Luckily the counter was wide enough to force Mr. Lupoi to lean
forward, weakening the power behind the punch. The inspector had just enough
time to jerk his head back, and the clenched fist missed completely.

“You’re lucky that didn’t connect, sir,”
Lazaro said, now sitting at his desk behind the counter. “Do you want us to subdue
him, Inspector?”

“No, I think he feels better now. Why
don’t we go into my office, Mr. Lupoi? I’m very interested in what you have to say.”
He lifted the gate and accompanied the visitor across the room. “May I have
Luisa get you some coffee?”

The man’s temper did indeed seem to have
cooled. “No. I need to know why my daughter was brought here,” he said softly.

“Mr. Lupoi, have you ever met Bernardo
Reni?” asked DiMarco, closing the door behind him.

“Is that the boy whose body was found in
San Benedetto Church? No, I haven’t met him, but my daughter tells me she knew
him at work and that he had sometimes walked her home.”

“And she dated him. She told us that.”

“That doesn’t make her a murderer. I
think she felt sorry for him.”

“No, sir, she isn’t a suspect at this
time, but she was one of the last people to see him alive. We were hoping
Gisella could tell us what he was doing in the final days of his life.”

“My daughter wasn’t seeing this boy as
you say. She has a fiancé, Inspector, and will be married at Santa Maria’s in a
couple of weeks.”

DiMarco’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? She
didn’t mention this, Mr. Lupoi. I believe she would have revealed that to us.”

“It will be a small ceremony. Just
family. The boy’s father wishes to keep it quiet. If they knew she was being
questioned, his family would be very angry.”

“I understand, sir.”
I think,
he
said to himself. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear the name of her fiancé.”

“I didn’t tell you. It’s better that you
don’t know. I’m afraid the Montriano police might want to pull him in too.”

“You understand why we might see a
motive here, Mr. Lupoi. I mean, she admits she went out with Bernardo. Is she pregnant?”

“No, of course not. She also probably
told you she knew the boy from work. It was a working relationship, Inspector. You
have nothing on her. I only ask that you don’t use her as a witness. She knows
nothing.” He got up, seeming more weary than angry.

“Can I get you something to drink, Mr.
Lupoi? Do you have to drive all the way back to work now?”

“It’s not that far. The quarry is on the
other side of the next hill.”

“That’s hot work. Please have something
cold to drink before you go.”

*

Grabbing a pencil, Father Sergio
switched the receiver to his other ear. “I see,” he said. “Have you questioned
the young man directly? What exactly did he say about the requested meeting
between Father Domenic and him? I understand completely. There is an urgency
here, however, as the priest is about to receive an award for community service
in this diocese. I believe you can see our dilemma. What if word of this were
to get out? The inspector of our small police department was able to get
information about it. That doesn’t say much about your policy to keep it under wraps
while it is being investigated. I would feel better if the bishop were allowed
to observe the interview with the young man himself. If the accusations are
indeed true, the Church will take action against the priest. I can assure you
of that. Perhaps if the bishop interviewed the boy—I suppose you are aware of
the rigorous training in psychology those entering the priesthood must take. We
see it among our young people all the time—the pressures they are under forces
them to strike out at any figure of authority standing in their way. Have you
investigated the family? Sometimes there are events happening in the family,
and the boy—what did you say his name was? Ah, that’s all right. Sometimes the
boy, whatever his name, cannot bring himself to reveal that a family member has
committed horrendous deeds against him.” Father Sergio wrote on the pad in
front of him. “His
avvocato
, you say? I understand. Perhaps we should be
talking through councilors. I only hoped we could avoid the cost, you know,
instead of using the funds that have been saved to feed the poor in the
diocese. Please call me if you need someone to help with the boy’s needs. Thank
you very much, sir.”

In an overstuffed chair, Father Domenic
leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t think that would work. There
are stories about priest abuse coming out all over. Surely they have read the
papers.”

“I do not believe reading is a usual
pastime for policemen, Father. Anyway, there you have it. The
avvocato
will
contact you as soon as he finds out if there is any evidence. In the meantime,
all we can do is pray that they indeed seal their lips. Now, about the murder
charge—are you sure there is nothing the nun can stick on you?”

“As I told you, I don’t think Sister
Angela is working to find me guilty. There’s nothing to get. I didn’t do it.”

“It would be quite a
coup d’état
for
her to find a priest accused of assaulting boys to be guilty of murdering one
of them. It is like this everywhere—nuns feeling they have the right to be
priests.”

“Has Sister Angela expressed such an
interest?”

“It is her actions, Father. She cannot
join the exclusive club of priesthood so she goes after another male-dominated profession,”
the bishop’s assistant said, pouring himself a drink. “I heard a group of
disgruntled nuns meet in Petraggio. They organized in order to push their case
for becoming priests to the Vatican.”

“Really? I haven’t heard that.”

“Perhaps we ought to get someone, not
the police because they will not do it, but some sort of private detective to
watch Sister Angela. Maybe we can catch her attending one of the meetings. I
bet the
avvocato
will know someone we could hire.”

“And take more money out of the mouths
of the poor?”

“So we can save your reputation, Father
Domenic. Do not forget that your collar is at stake here. I expect you to fight
for yourself. You certainly would not want to be beaten by a woman, would you?”

“Do you like it here in southern Italy,
Father Sergio? Do you plan to stay for a few days and pray yourself?”

“I shall return to Montriano tomorrow
morning, but it would not hurt for you to remain out of sight for a while longer.”

*

After Mr. Lupoi left, the inspector
closed his door and tried to understand how Gisella’s engagement affected the case.
As he told her father, the relationship presented a new motive for the crime.
She said she only met with Bernardo a few times. This was either true, or her
relationship with Bernardo was minimized because of the engagement.

DiMarco got up to get some coffee. He
originally thought Gisella’s appearance this morning was a miracle. She, who
was close to Bernardo, would present a clearer purpose for the boy’s murder.
Now he was more confused than ever. Maybe Sister Angela had a clue. With any
luck, she would come back with something he could put in a report.

*

Nicola wearily removed her clothes and
got ready for bed. Throwing herself across the mussed bedspread, she thought
about the way her life had been not even a month earlier—how he pleased her.
She felt her stomach tighten and had the urge to try to gratify herself but was
too tired. The smell of drying grass and salty air tickled her nose as she
imagined looking up into his face, hearing his gasps for air. She wanted to
pull him toward her and become one with him and wondered if he had felt that
too before collapsing exhausted on top of her.

Forcing herself up, she walked over to
her dresser and pulled out the top drawer. Inside she found a man’s undershirt,
something he had left in the field that evening. Nicola put it to her nose and
inhaled. The odors from her own underwear had mingled with his. She let a tear
fall and replaced the T-shirt, knowing that the next time she might not be able
to smell him at all.

*

Sister Angela stepped off the bus. It
was a warm day, so she brought a bottle of water to keep her hydrated on the
long walk to the factory. In her mind, she went over the morning’s interview.
Both Bernardo’s supervisor and Gisella said the young man was a messenger for
the processing company. Gisella told the police she had met him in that
capacity. Mr. Rota had not said Bernardo did not associate with
any
of
the women in the department. He only noted that most of the women in bottling
were not his type. He did not say Bernardo could not have had a relationship
but only that he had never seen Bernardo with anyone in the cafeteria. Come to
think of it, Mario Rota used very specific language in all his answers—even
when he volunteered it. The nun supposed Garibaldi’s management would be
interested in discovering who killed their employee because the arrest of his
murderer would take negative attention away from the company. But here the nun faced
obstacle after obstacle. Why the secrecy?

When she finally sat down on the bench
to change her shoes, she thought about the marketing division and what it might
be like. Was there anyone else in the department Bernardo could have been
seeing? Maybe the nun could meet others who knew something about his
relationship with Gisella. Perhaps she could also run into another employee who
was actually dating him. Packing her sneakers into a large purse, she entered
the lobby and walked up to the desk toward the back of the room.

“Excuse me. Could you please direct me
to the marketing department?”

The receptionist glanced up at the nun.
“Yes. It’s up those stairs and to the right.”

Double doors at the top of the stairs
opened into an expansive room. Windows on two of the four walls let the sun shine
on large potted plants that graced the spaces between the panes. Sister Angela
took in every detail. Facing her, a counter made up one side of the only
cubical in sight. Rows of desks produced neat lines behind it. Along one of the
windowless walls, there were a number of doors, presumably to private offices.

Sister Angela approached the counter. A
woman whose dark hair draped over her face bent over a drawer of files.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for Miss Lupoi.”

The woman glanced up with a look of
surprise across her face. “Sister Angela, how nice to see you again. I believe
she’s on break. How on earth do you know our receptionist?”

“Miss Vitali, I’m just as surprised to
see you here. I didn’t know you were in this department.”

“I sometimes cover the phones while
she’s on break. My office is the second door along the wall—the one that’s
open. You didn’t tell me how you knew Gisella.”

Sister Angela tried to think. Gisella
said she would explain her tardiness to people after she got to work. Even though
Miss Vitali was Gisella’s backup, she evidently was not on the
need-to-know
list. “I met her through Mrs. Giannini, Bernardo’s aunt.”

Nicola stood up straight. The lights
prevented the nun from seeing the expression on her face.

‘Bernardo?” Nicola asked.

“Yes, Bernardo Reni, the boy who was
murdered. I believe Gisella knew him here at work. Didn’t you say you were not
acquainted with him when I met you outside last week?”