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“So he just took off with all the cash?” I asked, glancing at Donvino with concern. His lips flattened, but my boyfriend said nothing. He was processing, it seemed. “What a total jerk.”
“Mm, that’s one word for him. I would use a few others, including arsonist.” My eyes flared. Dad nodded sadly. “Yes, someone seemingly got into the main office at mill 20 and disabled most of the security cameras we have set up at various points around the orchards. Mostly to keep an eye on vandals or those stealing crops.” That happened quite frequently, to be honest. People would see an olive orchard and just hop out of their cars, fill up a hat or a bucket, and drive off. Most of the time, we did nothing about that. But the vandals were another story. At times people dicked with the bees. Other times, protesters had cut down trees, so we did have cameras scattered about here and there. “There was no sign of forced entry, therefore we are assuming it was someone with a key. If it was Piravino, he obviously had duplicate keys made before he turned his in on his last day.”
“That sneaky shit,” I snarled while Donvino mumbled something unfriendly.
“He was quite thorough,” Dad commented. “The video from the front door of the office had been deleted for the entire day and almost every camera on the main feed had been turned off around midnight. The bastard forgot about one small feed, though. There are two cameras on the corners of the manager’s house.”
“What used to be the manager’s house,” Donvino muttered as his dark eyes sparked with anger.
Dad sadly nodded. “Yes, what used to be the manager’s home. He seemed to think that they were so overgrown that they’d not be a concern, we suspect. And that would have been true if someone who liked to garden hadn’t put some work in along the fence line.”
Dad and I both stared at Donvino, who seemed to be completely flabbergasted before he huffed out a rough bark of a laugh.
“I was thinking of making a nice garden for Arlo and me to rest in,” Donvino confessed rather sheepishly.
“Well, your work on the garden paid off because that loop shows someone creeping into the house and setting it on fire.”
“No,” I gasped, my scrambled eggs flipping over in my stomach. “Was it him? Was it Piravino?”
“The police won’t say, but they are now searching for him as a person of interest,” Dad said as he took my shaking hand in his. “They’ll find him, Arlo. It seems they have some pretty conclusive evidence that they’re not telling Lowell about it at the moment, so we’ll have to ride this out. This is another reason for you two to stay at the villa. It’s got state-of-the-art security. We’re going to make sure you’re well protected until this case is solved.”
“This is what hate breeds,” I shakily said, gripping my father’s hand tightly. “That kind of loathing of someone for simply being different. God, what a mess.”
“Hate is a powerful thing, sadly many people are blinded by old doctrines about what is evil and what is good. So, I have brought you some clothes. You may both shower, shave, and dress before you talk with the police. The company attorney is on her way to sit in while the police speak with you, just to ensure they play by our rules. I will not allow them to try to shame you boys in any way.”
“Thank you, signor,” Donvino said from his bed, his gaze woeful. I let Donvino go first. The clothes in my bag and the personal essentials such as soap, toothbrush, and razor were all new. Everything I had brought to Italy with me had been moved into that soft yellow villa beside the Tiber. Now it was all gone. Every last bit. Even my steamer trunks.
“I want you to know that I think Donvino is a good match for you,” Dad confided while Donvino was showering.
“I love him,” I admitted and got a smile from my father.
“Yes, we can tell. And he adores you. Hold on to that love. It will get you through anything life throws at you.”
“I’m sorry about being such a prick for so long,” I said, my voice shaky. The sound of rubber-soled shoes on the tiled hall moved past. Dad patted my thigh. “I know this is terrible, but maybe we can start over? I’d like to not be that asshole kid who pushed you so far that you sent him away.”
“And I do not want to ever push you away again. That was wrong of me. Instead of putting in the difficult work, I shoved it, and you, aside. Much like I have the grief of losing your mother. Sometimes, despite what Ginerva says, being stoic isn’t always the best way of handling things.”
“We both have work to do,” I confessed, then glanced to the side to see Donvino leaving the bath, steam broiling out behind him, looking much better than he had when he had entered. His shorts were a little tight around the ass, but I wasn’t going to complain.
“My turn.” I limped into the bath, unwrapped the gauze around my ankle, and slowly turned in front of the mirror. Looking over my shoulder, I could see that the skin on my back was bright red, like a severe sunburn, and was already blistering. If the man on the video setting fire to our little house was Piravino, I was going to spit in his eye when I saw him. He could have killed us, and Earnest the Hero Pooch. What kind of twisted mind did such things?!
Easing under the shower was both glorious and tortuous. The water jets hitting my back stung like a thousand bee stings. The poor bees…
I washed and shampooed, doing my best to keep my front to the spray, and exited the bath wearing a loose tee, some dark purple leggings, and socks. Not my usual wardrobe but given the state of my back loose was much better than a tight vest. Waiting for me was my father, Donvino, a nurse, an older woman in a business suit, and two dour-looking members of the Polizia de Stato. Introductions were made as I sat down next to Donvino on his bed. The older woman in the power suit was our attorney, or avvocato, Signora Vappechi. The nurse re-wrapped my sprained ankle and then took our vitals yet again.
The cops were polite if distant, keeping to the facts of the case, both seemingly undisturbed by the fact that Donvino and I were gay lovers. This would have been tough titties if they were since I was holding my boyfriend’s hand during the whole interview. The questions were typical, and we both replied with honesty, even reciting the entire incident outside the office of mill 20 when Piravino had tried to accost me. My father grew more and more tense as the details of that showdown came to light. When the police were satisfied with our statements, they left, with nods to my father, as did the lawyer.
“Arlo, why did you not report this confrontation to me as soon as it happened?” Dad demanded the moment we were alone.
“If I told you about every time someone had said they wished all the fags would die, I’d be doing nothing but running to you.”
Dad turned from us to glare at the sun streaming into the window. His shoulders tightened, then dropped as he exhaled.
“It saddens me to hear that so much has changed in this world and yet so little has changed.” He moved to the window and then faced us, the sun warming the silver strands in his dark hair. “As soon as the doctor arrives, we’ll get you two boys home. I suspect there will be a feast and a half awaiting you both.”
Dinner with the family sounded incredible and just what we both needed to start the healing process, both physically and mentally. Funny how having those you loved the most around you when dark times arrived helped to keep the worst of the world at bay.
Maybe I had learned something during my time here other than how to ask where the bathroom was in Italian. Who would have thunk it?
