Death and the Olive Grove

Death and the Olive Grove by Marco Vichi

Book: Death and the Olive Grove by Marco Vichi Read Free Book Online
Authors: Marco Vichi
Tags: Fiction, Crime
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time.
    â€˜May I begin?’ he asked.
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Do you have any enemies?’
    â€˜Enemies?’ she said, squinting a little. She was quite feeble minded from the drugs.
    â€˜Someone who hates you so much they might wish to harm you in this fashion?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜What sort of work do you do?’
    â€˜Sales.’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜With the big wholesalers.’
    The woman replied slowly, and always with that hint of a smile on her lips. Bordelli left long pauses between questions, so as not to tire her.
    â€˜Are you married?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Do you have a boyfriend?’
    â€˜I don’t have anyone.’
    Although she was thin, she sat as if her body felt very heavy to her.
    â€˜And Valentina’s father?’
    â€˜He lives in Turin … He was already married with children, but I discovered that a little late.’
    â€˜Is that why Valentina doesn’t have her father’s name?’
    â€˜When she was born, he didn’t want … how do you say it?’
    â€˜To acknowledge paternity?’
    â€˜Yes …’ she said, shrugging slightly.
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜He didn’t want any trouble for his real family,’ the young woman said, a furrow between her eyebrows.
    â€˜Forgive me for asking, Signora Panerai … But didn’t he help you at all?’
    â€˜He sent me a little money every month. Though that certainly wasn’t what I had in mind when I met him.’
    â€˜So, you couldn’t say you’ve maintained good relations with him,’ the inspector said.
    The woman shook her head.
    â€˜I tried every way I could to make him say that Valentina was his daughter. A few years ago I even filed a complaint against him … We ended up in court, but he kept on denying everything. He could afford a good lawyer, and so it all came to nothing … In the end I gave up,’ she said, looking at him through empty eyes. Saying more than a few sentences seemed to have tired her out.
    â€˜Did he ever come and see Valentina?’
    â€˜Three or four times a year.’
    â€˜Was he fond of her?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Valentina’s father … was he fond of her?’
    The woman nodded faintly.
    â€˜Her, yes … He wrote her many letters and was always giving her presents,’ she said.
    â€˜Has he been told what happened?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜How did he take it?’
    â€˜He cried …’ the woman said, her eyes vacant. Bordelli left her alone for a bit, to let her rest. Then he resumed.
    â€˜I’m sorry, signora … but I have to ask you a few questions about that afternoon.’
    â€˜Ask whatever you like,’ she said, seeming tired.
    â€˜Did you notice immediately that your daughter was missing?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜How did you lose sight of her?’
    â€˜She did it all the time.’
    â€˜Ran away, you mean?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Why did she do that?’
    â€˜She liked to hide,’ the woman said, staring at the wall with an unhappy smile. Her eyes looked huge in her gaunt face.
    â€˜What time was it when you last saw Valentina?’
    â€˜I don’t know … about half past five, I guess.’
    The girl was found around six. And in that half-hour she had been killed.
    â€˜Did you go often to the Parco del Ventaglio with your daughter?’ Bordelli continued after another pause.
    â€˜When it wasn’t raining …’
    â€˜Do most of the people who go to the park know each other?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Lately, had you noticed anyone you hadn’t ever seen there before?’
    â€˜No,’ she said, shaking her head repeatedly. Bordelli waited for her to calm down, then continued.
    â€˜Do people sometimes come to the park alone …? I mean, people without children?’
    â€˜A few old men with dogs.’
    â€˜And had anyone ever bothered your

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