Page 66 of The Unraveling of Julia

“Why? What caused it?”

“Those men, their hoodies…” Julia couldn’t finish the sentence.

“They were Swedish tourists. Drunk.”

“But they had blue hoodies, all of them, and that color, like cobalt…”

“It’s the color of Italy’s football team. Or, as you say, soccer. Our team is the Azure Blues,Gli Azzuri.”

What?“You mean it’steam gear?”

“Yes, the national soccer team. Everybody has one.”

Julia tried to understand. “The man who killed my husband wore the exact same hoodie.”

“He did?”

“Yes.” Julia sipped her water. “Why would a murderer in Philly have one of those hoodies?”

“I don’t know.” Gianluca frowned, puzzled. “Does it matter?”

“It’s unusual at home. I’ve seen dozens of Eagles, Phillies, and Flyers hoodies, but I’ve never once seen one of those blue sweatshirts, except on that night.”

“So do you think the man who killed your husband was Italian?”

“Maybe, yes, or has been here. It might not mean anything, but still.” Julia tried to wrap her mind around the revelation, and her thoughts began to clarify. “What if Mike’s murder is connected to Italy?”

Gianluca mulled it over. “How?”

“I don’t know.” Julia blinked, mystified. “The only thing that I can think of is my inheritance. I wonder if Mike’s murder has something to do with the inheritance.” She heard herself say it, realizing it was a distinct possibility. “I didn’t think those things were connected, but what if they are?”

“How could they be?”

“I don’t know that, either.” Julia couldn’t deny the sense she got inside, maybe it was her intuition, so she went with it. “But these are the two biggest events in my life, my husband’s murder and my inheritance, one horrible and one wonderful, and they happened only about six months apart. Maybe they’re related to each other.”

“What about through Rossi?”

“What do you mean?” Julia asked, glad of a sounding board.

“Well, you found the underground cell. A little girl was cagedthere, whether Rossi’s daughter or someone else’s. You were worried Rossi could even be a kidnapper.”

“Right, so?”

“What if Rossi was in a kidnapping or a trafficking ring? She could have been working with others. She’s dead, but she may have coconspirators who are alive.”

“A conspiracy.” Julia shuddered, trying to imagine it. “She goes out at night to look for children. No kid would be afraid of her because she’s an older, wealthy woman. She drives a cool car to lure them. But where do you find children out at night, in the countryside?”

“You find them where you live, in the poorer towns around Croce. There’s kids who work in the vineyards, all year round. Migrant children, Albanians, Ethiopians, Kosovans.” Gianluca met her eye grimly. “It’s the side of Tuscany tourists don’t see.”

“But what does that have to do with the man who killed Mike?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have enough facts.” Gianluca leaned forward. “Begin at the beginning, would you? What happened that night? Can you tell me or will it upset you?”

“I can.” Julia bore down, despite her emotion. “We came around the corner. The man reached for my purse. Mike stepped in to protect me.”

“Did the man have an Italian accent?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say anything.” Julia thought a minute. “Maybethat’swhy he didn’t speak. He didn’t want us to hear his accent was Italian. In retrospect, it’s weird that he didn’t say anything, not even ‘Give me your purse.’”

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