L'Oro Verde Read Online Free PDF Page B

shoes.
    “Where were you when the police
arrived?”
    “I met them outside the rectory and let
them in through the gate.”
    The nun looked up. “And where were you
last night?”
    Again the priest fell silent, scowling.
He must have been angered by this less than tactful approach by a subordinate.
    “Father?” DiMarco said.
    “I was in the rectory from dinner on.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Torrisi, left some time after eight. I fell asleep on the
couch, woke up around midnight, and went upstairs to bed.”
    “Did something awaken you at midnight,
Father Domenic?” Sister Angela asked.
    “Not that I remember,”
    “No dog barking or conjugal quarrels in
the neighborhood?”
    “I assure you, Sister Angela, I was
awakened by nothing in particular.”
    “Thank you, Father. You have been very
cooperative.”
    *
    Enzo emerged from his office on the first
floor of Garibaldi’s Olive Oil Incorporated, closing the door and locking it.
It was late, nearly eight o’clock. He was both tired and hungry. Sauntering
through the front lobby, he noticed the receptionist had already left and
turned out the lights. Suddenly he heard footsteps and paused. Someone was coming
down the stairs.
    “Ah yes, Ms. Vitali. You worked late, I
see.”
    “I’ve been very busy trying to make the
reports as thorough as possible for you this month.”
    He looked her over. The sun through the
glass doors spotlighted her directly. Though the shadows were growing, it was still
light outside. Her slim figure was highlighted by her long legs. Straight black
hair accentuated her pale skin. She had not tinted it with red streaks as was
the style. Instead, she let it pick up any color the lights offered.
    “I’m impressed,” he said. “I’m sorry to
work you so hard. You aren’t having trouble with the load, are you?”
    “I can handle it.”
    “Splendid. I’m glad you are on our team.
He deftly turned the key to the front door and held it open for her. “You know
it’s late. Perhaps you would like to join me for dinner.”
    “I would enjoy that. I have an idea
about how to make the flow on the shop floor more efficient.”
    “I would love to hear it,” he said,
putting his free hand around her waist and guiding her toward his car.
    *
    The nun looked at her watch. She had to
get back. “I feel like Cinderella, Alessandro, but I must return to class. I would
like to be there when you inform the parents. Can you wait a few minutes while
I find someone to teach my next class?”
    “Yes, Sister Angela. Meet me at the
station in about half an hour. We can go together.”
    DiMarco almost looked relieved she would
accompany him. She knew he did not like facing the family alone.
    The nun wished she felt less angst too,
though it was not about talking to Bernardo’s parents or about having to face her
mother superior. Sister Angela had a feeling this case was going to rock not
only Montriano, but shake up many of the surrounding towns. The murder might
even affect the very infrastructure of the quiet hill villages—something that
had
    not happened since a simple fruit helped
build an economic boom that has lasted for centuries.

Four
    In spite of the splashes of shade from
the lush greenery, the small courtyard inside the gates was sunny. Inhaling the
scent of bell peppers and garlic wafting from the open windows,
    Sister Angela suddenly had the urge to
run the other way. She did not remember having been to the Bernardo’s house before.
Fumbling through her pocket for her rosary beads, she froze as the inspector
rapped on the door.
    Inside, the shutters were open wide,
inviting cool morning breezes before the sun was too high. But the room just
beyond the front door was still dark. Sister Angela turned to look at the
picture on the wall. It was the painting of the nativity surrounded by an intricate
gilt frame. A crucifix hung in the opposite corner. The rest of the walls
remained bare, but the dun color did not reflect the sunlight. Perhaps it