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Disconnecting the call, I sat back and thought about what I had just learned.
Lorenzo had told me that Rita had never sought professional help and that he blamed himself for that. This, however, cast a different light on past events.
LORENZO
That evening, after Anni had bathed the kids and I’d read them their bedtime story and tucked them in, Anni came to see me in my study.
Walking in, she hovered at the edge of my desk. “Hey,” she said.
I looked up with a tight smile. “Can this wait? You know I have to go back out to the factory and I’m already running late. Being at the clinic yesterday took up most of the day and I still haven’t caught up.”
The factory housed the Fratellanza’s drug lab where we tested product we’d purchased and then processed it by dividing up the raw product and repackaging it in the appropriate size for selling.
“It’s important, Lorenzo. I found the children’s immunization records today.”
“Good.” My voice was curt.
“I also found this.” She reached into her pocket, taking out an appointment card and pushing it across the desk toward me.
I reached for it. And, when I saw Rita’s name on it, I froze.
CHAPTER 44
ANNUNCIATA
“Boss,” said Giuseppe, coming to the study door.
“What?” Lorenzo barked at him.
“We’re ready to leave.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Go without me. I’ll follow in ten minutes.”
“Got it, boss.”
Waiting until he’d heard the front door close, he turned back to me. “Where did you get this?”
“I just said, I found it with the children’s immunization records. It must have been filed in the wrong place. Have you heard of Dr. Fontaine before?”
“No.” He snatched up the card and tossed it into his desk drawer, slamming it shut. “Anything else? I have to go.” He was clearly dismissing me.
“I looked up the doctor on the net and rang the number on the card.”
“What?”
“The appointment date was one week before Rita’s death.”
“I’m well aware of that,” he snapped.
“It’s just that you said Rita never got help for her issues, and you felt guilty that you should have helped her get some more support,” I said quickly. “Dr. Fontaine is a psychologist, specializing in depression and postpartum depression. Don’t you see, that means Rita did get some help?”
“You don’t know that she ever actually went to the appointment,” he growled.
“I do.” I hesitated. “I rang the clinic and pretended I was Rita.”
He sat up very straight, like a predator getting ready to pounce. “You did what?”
“That was the only way they’d give me any information. And they told me that Rita did go to that appointment and that she attended seven appointments in total with Dr. Fontaine.”
