Il Pane Della Vita (2 page)

“I have some skills, yes.”

“Then the diocese would like to
request your services on a case.”

“And Mother Margarita agrees?”

“I am afraid I did not give her a choice—and I do not think I have mentioned giving you one either.”

Sister Angela sat back.
Now this is the Father Sergio I know
, she said to herself.

Someone stuck his head in the door. “Can I get you two something to drink?”

“Yes, Brother. Could you bring us some coffee?”

Sister Angela c
leared her throat. “And some cold water,” she said.

When the head disappeared, Father Sergio turned his chair so that he faced her. “There was an incident at the
Santo Velo Monastery outside Avalle last night.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“There might have been one fatality—the scientific word for
death
.”

“Ah,” she said, wondering why he would put it that way.
“They aren’t sure?”

“It look
s like one of the hermit brothers might be dead.”

“Have we found a culprit?”

“If there is one…”

“I hope it wasn’
t a suicide,” she said. “That would be very uncomfortable to deal with—though not unique. In 2003, a brother…”

“I a
m not sure of that. There was an explosion in the hermitage on the mountain above the monastery. Early this morning, the police checked it out. They could not find a body, but seemed to be stymied by the lack evidence after they scanned the scene in the dark.”

“But surely they continued to search in the daylight.”

“The
eremo
is now closed to everyone.”

The nun rolled her eyes, picturing the police c
hief’s fury at another alleged Church cover-up. “There were witnesses, I presume.”

“Yes, there were brothers
from lower on the hill who witnessed the flash followed by a loud blast. The police also reported that there were witnesses in the
eremita
community, but they were unable to collect the details.”

“They don’
t speak without permission, am I correct?”

“T
here are keepers who tend to their needs. They began to talk to police, but Father Rafaello, the abbot, has called them as well and told them not to speak.”

“
The abbot didn’t want anything disclosed to the police?”

“That i
s not the case. Father Rafaello did not want details revealed until the Church has had time to witness the scene first.”

“Surely the police looked at the blast site and gathered evidence before they spoke with the
abbot.”

“Of course th
ey would have done what they were there to do. I have not seen their report, however, because it is still early. I would rather get a report from someone within the Church. There are rumors that some brothers have already agreed that what they witnessed was some kind of a surreal event.” He knitted his brows. “Perhaps
surreal
does not convey what they think. The Sci-fi people seem to have run off with some of the vocabulary that we in the Church would like to use.”

“Perhaps the wor
d you’re looking for is
spiritual
or
transcendent
, Father. At least I think those words are still ours.”

“But
they should be reserved to describe what happened
after
the investigation is complete, Sister. I need you to go into the situation with an open mind.”

“But if you expect
me
to confirm a miracle for the Church, you might be sorely disappointed.”

Father Sergio smiled. “
The bishop and I already feel that this is a miracle, Sister Angela. What we would like is confirmation. That is why I need you.”

“And you promise
not
to interfere with my findings or seize my veil if I prove the situation to be something other than what you want?”

This time Father Sergio laughed. The nun
had never seen him without his usual scowl. She actually found his smile, his face, handsome. Why had she not noticed this before?

“I shall
do my best not to interfere with the investigation, Sister Angela.” Still jovial, he collected the loose papers on the table and stuffed them into a manila folder. Then he stood to leave. “As for the results of your investigation I promise nothing. I know you will conclude what you think is right and just. Like that explosion on the hill, you always vent what is on your mind. I will not, however, promise to protect you from ‘the loss of your veil,’ as you choose to phrase it. It is not me you have to please. It is the bishop himself. He has a good track record in obtaining the approvals from the Holy See and the Secretary General for both dismissals and depositions of those within his district.”

Sister Angel remained seated as he disappeared
, the door closing behind him. She could hear his footsteps on the black and white marble tiles in the hallway. When silence returned, she realized the coffee and water never arrived. Did Father Sergio and the brother have a code that if he asks for coffee it means he would only be a few minutes and that the brother should not deliver the request?

It was all an illusion.
Yes, Father Sergio would direct the investigation from the palace. She could do nothing about that. The best thing would be for her to report clues to him often so he could pull her at any time. The new Father Sergio was the old Father Sergio. She would cope. She squirmed in her chair. But it was not really the old Father Sergio that worried her. The man who made her situation difficult, that made her skin crawl, was one who really did not know her. If what Father Sergio had intimated was true, the actual puppeteer would be the bishop himself.

“Good morning, Alessandro. How are your wife and lovely children?” Sister Angela asked as she sat down to face him across the desk.

“Very well, Sister. I haven’
t been as busy lately so I can spend more time with them. Are you here to ask me to assign you something?” asked Alessandro DiMarco, Montriano’s senior detective. “Sorry to say, I don’t have anything right now. What am I saying? We’re lucky it is so quiet in Montriano.”

“
No, no, my students would love to have their teacher for an uninterrupted school year. Unfortunately, Father Sergio told me that he would send a car to the school at three. I have to be ready to go. I wish you would find a way to come with me,” said Sister Angela, still trying to catch her breath after the short hike up the road from the bishop’s palace.

“What’
s the case about?” DiMarco asked.

“One of the hermit
cells blew up. The monks all think the hermit who lived there ascended. Of course, we are all ascended when we die, but there are usually few witnesses.”

“It’
s always difficult to prove that phenomenon, Sister. That’s why it’s a challenge for someone to be canonized.” A smile played at the corners of DiMarco’s lips. “Usually you can find more evidence to disprove it.”

“And evidence is what we look for. I understand. They must be talking about a physical ascension. That would be impossible to find evidence for—unless one of them had a cell with a camera.
I must make a note to ask the bishop to provide them all with one.”

“It sounds like you have your
work cut out for you. I’ll call Morena in Avalle. He’s the chief there. We went to school together. He’s probably fully informed about the case and knows who you’ll contact. The inspector will also let me know the name of their medical examiner, though considering the case, it sounds like you won’t need one,” DiMarco said, pausing to make a note on his laptop. “What? Don’t look at me like that. Yes unlike me, Morena is already a chief inspector. It’s probably because his father was a politician, but I can’t say he wasn’t smart or deserving. Will you have some sort of laptop? Then I can keep you informed about what’s happening.”

“Yes.
I’ll also have my red cell phone, and Abbot Father Rafaello can always get messages to me by calling his number.”

“We hope to have you back before the end o
f summer, Sister. Perhaps we’ll enjoy an uneventful one here. That would be nice.”

“And unlikely,” said Sister Angela as she hurried out
; she could almost smell lunch being served at the school.

The trek down the hill was faster. Sister Angela headed
directly for the cafeteria. There she chose pasta and a salad. Mother
Margherita
sat alone in her usual spot. Sister Angela slid in across from her.

“I would tell you
that I prefer to have a meal in peace, Sister,” the mother superior said, failing to look up. “But obviously quiet will soon prevail—after you have left us. Dinnertime will be spent in the calm tranquility that’s necessary for our health.”

“So Sister Eloisa has agreed to teach my
class. It will give her good experience. They’re wonderful students, Mother.” She attacked her pasta with relish.

“Don’t forget that I will be there too, Sister. I
won’t have time for my own work, keeping the school running. I hope you have written lesson plans for the next few months.”

“Y
es. They’re on my laptop. I’ll send them to you when I get back to my room.”

“You’
ll print them out please. I enjoy reading letters, but I avoid email. It takes the writer no time to compose and reads like he or she has never studied grammar or vocabulary.”

“Spoken like a true teacher, Mother. You
’ll make Sister Eloisa a great one. I’ll print them out at the printer in your office—if you could get
Sister Marcella
to retrieve them for you.”

The mother superior stared directly into
her charge’s eyes.

Sister Angela smile
d. “I didn’t mean to imply…”

“You were careful, yes. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t hear the venom in your voice.”

“I’m finished with my lunch, Mother. Yes, I know. I ate far too fast. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll run upstairs to pack a few things.”

Mother Margarita bowed her head, and Sister Angela
hurried toward the stairs to her room.

At three o’clock, a car pulled up in front of the school. Sister Angela was ready. The driver held open the door to reveal a plushy back seat for her and placed her suitcase in the trunk. Then they were off. The nun watched him carefully maneuver the black BMW E-23 through the gate and then sat back to gaze at the orchards and vineyards up close.

“
Do you get out often, Sister?” asked the voice from the front seat.

Sister Angela
glanced at the kindly pair of eyes, staring at her through the rearview mirror. “Often enough. I go down to Petraggio on occasion. I usually take the bus. I have lived here all my life and rarely leave the valley. I guess you normally transport the men affiliated with the palace, Mr.…”

“Belmonte, Ugo Belmonte.
On occasion, I do drive the secretary general. Doesn’t she direct your chapter under the superior general? Madam Secretary is quite affable, you know. Otherwise I drive only men. You must be doing something important, Sister, to have me drive you all the way to the mountains. I’m glad because it’s such a beautiful day.”

“How long is the drive?”

“It’s just about two hours. You will arrive in time for dinner, Sister. I hear the nearby village of Collinaterra is known for its terracotta. Mrs. Belmonte wants me to find some figures that fit our Christmas crèche. I have no idea what she wants, but she wrote it down for the sculptor.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something wonderful. But I don’t want to think about Christmas while I’m visiting the monastery. That makes me
envision snow, and I don’t want to dwell on snow in the spring. How long have you lived in Montriano, Mr. Belmonte?”

“I hope this isn’t part of your investigation, Sister. Am I speaking off the record here?”

The nun smiled. “Yes. I guess I’m naturally inquisitive. I like to get to know the people I meet so that when I see them again I’ll be able to converse about topics that might interest them.”

“I don’
t live in Montriano. My wife and I met in Roma, but we settled in Petraggio.”

“Do you have any children?”

“No. My wife couldn’t have any. We thought about adoption but could never find the time to fill out all those pages. Perhaps we didn’t want any. I don’t know.”

“Does your wife work then?”

“Yes, she’s a hairdresser in Petraggio.”

“Ah, so what’
s the name of the place for when I need my hair cut?”

“I’ll put the information on my card at the end of our drive.
I saw on the news that there was a fire at one of the monasteries in the area. Was that at Santo Velo?”

“Yes.
They didn’t mention where on the news?”

“No. They just said there was a fire in the mountains
, but that the fire was put out quickly. Are you going there because of the fire?”

“Why would the bishop send me there? What could
I
do? The fire is already out.”

An
awkward silence followed.

“Why would you be going there when the monastery is for men?”

The nun smiled. Did she feel a bit giddy? “There’s a retreat center there, Mr. Belmonte. Many nuns take retreat there when the weather is good. I brought my sunglasses and a good book for a vacation in the middle of the school year. I hope the food is tasty.”