Free L'Oro Verde by Coralie Hughes Jensen

first,” she said, taking a long
draw on the cigarette, “but more recently he seemed very happy—I would say
especially in the last six months or so. I never told Valeria, but sometimes he
came home late.”
    “Late for dinner?’
    “Late like after eleven,” she said,
releasing her bangs to flop forward again. “He had to grow up some time, didn’t
he? My sister would never let him out of her sight.”
    *
    Sister Angela barely caught the bus. It
was just after six, and waving her arms, she ran the last hundred feet. She doubted
the bus would have waited if it were not for her habit.
    Out of breath, she found a seat by the
window and fanned herself with a sheet of notepaper. The houses got farther
apart, and soon the bus was out in the countryside. Larger farms began to
appear. Rows of grapevines whizzed past the window, their propped branches
heavy with grapes. The sun had not yet sunk below the hills, and the nun used her
fan to protect her eyes. The road began to narrow, and the driver revved the engine
as the bus started up the hill. It took an hour to travel from Petraggio to
Montriano. Half an hour had already passed between the numerous stops at the
edge of town and the short hop through the valley. The trip would have been
shorter, but the road circled the large vineyards and olive orchards. The last
half hour, the bus would wind up and around the hill, stopping for farm
families along the way.
    Montriano was at the top, the last stop.
The bus would then turn around and retrace its route. This was the final trip
to Montriano until morning.
    Sister Angela was relieved when she
stepped through the town gate on the piazza. It was a long walk up to the school,
but she would make it just in time for dinner. And she was already hungry.
    During the trek, the nun thought about
the murder and what she had discovered. According to Andreus, the killer had to
be a strong man. But of course, the medical examiner could not identify the
murder weapon definitively. She and the inspector would have to concentrate on
finding the bloody clothes and cross. Then there was Mrs. Giannini who told
Sister Angela more than she knew. Yes, his staying out late probably resulted
in his murder. But the fact that he seemed happy was a real puzzler. There were
the long periods in the bathroom in the morning. The household had only one
bathroom. Mrs. Giannini had to remind him to hurry more than once. And she
mentioned that the reason he stayed out late might have been a girl. The smell
of perfume mixed with smoke permeated his laundry, which Mrs. Giannini did for
him once a week. Sister Angela patted her bag. She was glad she had not
forgotten to ask for a shirt or part of his uniform—anything that had not yet
been washed. It had taken a while to find something. Mrs. Giannini was quite
efficient in cleaning his room. Yes, the nun verified the shirt still reeked of
cigarette smoke—no surprise since every crack in the small house smelled the
same. But underneath, very faintly, she could also smell another scent. The nun
hoped that by placing the shirt in a plastic bag and sealing it with tape, she
could preserve the odor which might hold the key to his having a friend—maybe
even a special one.
    The front of the old building of Scuola
di Santa Donata was now in sight, and even though she was winded, Sister Angela
could not wait to eat and take time to think about the clues. She already knew,
however, that this was only the beginning and that the investigation into the
murder would undoubtedly be more complicated. An evil and unsavory part of
human nature loomed among the trees and vines that flourished in the hazy sunshine
hovering over Montriano.

Seven
    Sister Daniela was anxious to share her
notes with her mentor. She was not sure if the clues were significant, but she
would find out. Sister Angela opened her door on the first knock.
    “What do you have, my dear?” she asked.
    “I did as you instructed. Father Domenic
led me down