Free L'Oro Verde by Coralie Hughes Jensen Page B

the steam
rise as she pulled her top over her head. “There won’t be more pain, more loss,
because I feel nothing.” She shivered at the thought of his semen staining her
panties, and stepped into the hot soapy water without removing them.
    *
    The bus made it to the bottom of the
hill and accelerated through the first straight stretch of road. Sister Angela
thought about her conversation with Alessandro that morning. He seemed happy to
get the information about the church documents, but it puzzled him.
    “So you think there’s something fishy
going on with Bernardo’s birth records?” he asked her.
    “It’s a possibility.”
    “I talked to a neighbor, a Mrs.
Nigrelli.”
    “I remember her. Some of my students
called her Nosey Nigrelli .”
    “Nevertheless, she said she recalled
seeing Mrs. Reni just days before she left for Roma. That’s when she first
heard the couple was expecting.”
    “Did Mrs. Reni look pregnant?”
    “Yes, very,” he said. “Was Mrs.
Giannini’s story the same?”
    “I didn’t ask her about the pregnancy
per se. She told me about the baby’s arrival home, about the gathering Mrs. Reni
has pictures of,” said Sister Angela. “I think that’s one thing you can follow
up on.”
    “On what?”
    “Make sure there are no discrepancies in
the stories,” said Sister Angela. “I’ll check with Mrs. Giannini. Maybe you can
talk to more of the Renis’ friends. There were several other people in the
snapshots of the party. How much do they know?”
    DiMarco smiled. Sister Angela noticed
it. She must have sounded like she was taking charge of the investigation, telling
him what to do. But, as usual, the inspector was kind enough to let her
continue.
    “Dr. Piombo called and said you had been
there,” he said. “Do you have doubts about the weapon?”
    “It does kind of limit us. It has to be
a man, a big man,” she answered. “But the wound didn’t point to that weapon in particular.
I thought it would. And then there’s the question about how the killer got out
of there. Where would he stash the weapon and clothes?”
    “That all points back to Father Domenic
again. I guess we’ll have another chat with him too. Anything else?”
    “What have you found?”
    “My men and I completely scoped the scene,
including the rectory. There were items which had to go to the lab. We too
asked the questions about how the assailant escaped unnoticed. I’m trying to
come up with a list of possibilities.”
    “Did you talk to Mr. and Mrs. Reni?”
    “Yes. I’m going to Roma tomorrow to talk
to this Paolo, the brother. Based on what you told me concerning the birth
certificate, I ought to ask him directly about the hospital. I assume you
planned to assign me that task next.”
    Sister Angela smiled. “Good idea. I had
the feeling Mrs. Reni and Mrs. Giannini were holding back something.”
    “And you are going to Petraggio to talk
to the boy’s employer?”
    “Yes. He worked for Garibaldi’s, the
largest olive processing plant in the valley.”
    “Good luck.”
    *
    The brakes squealed. This was Sister
Angela’s stop. She had to walk another eight blocks to get to the factory. She did
not mind because she had worn her sneakers, something the school forbade and
Mother Margherita frowned upon. But she had good reason today and would change
back when she reached the building.
    It was nearly two when she sat down on a
bench in front of Garibaldi’s Olive Oil Incorporated. The air was thick, but the
smell heavenly. Sister Angela was raised around olives.
    Her father owned a small olive orchard.
She used to take a basket of drupes into town to be processed by Mr. Tutti, who
had a small olive press he used for himself and his neighbors. The old man
would soak them for her and then crush them with his press. The procedure was
slow, and it took lots of olives to produce enough oil. She and Mr. Tutti would
sit and dip Mrs. Tutti’s homemade bread in it.
    The process here was different. She