Il Pane Della Vita (8 page)

Her head down, Sister Angela scribble
d what she could remember into her notebook. Dinner was over. She was completely oblivious to the rattles and clatter of the brothers bussing dishes and remaking the tables for breakfast.

A young man sidled up beside her and cleared his throat.

Startled, the nun looked up. “Oh excuse me. Am I in your way?”

“Yes, I’
ll need to cover this table, but it can wait.” He inched behind her shoulder and took a peek at what she wrote.

“Th
ey’re just notes,” the nun said. “I have to write down what I saw because I’m afraid I’ll forget exactly who said what. Are you interested in what happened?”

The young man blink
ed his mesmerizing, blue eyes. “I’m interested in crime, yes.”

“
Do believe there has been a crime, Brother?”

“I’m n
ot sure. I’ve heard that you’re a detective, so while you’re a nun you must suspect this may be a crime instead of a miracle. My name is Brother Salvatore. I’m in training to become a cook.”

“You talk from the heart. I’m not sure being a cook is what you long to do. I’d
ask you to sit down, but I don’t want to get you into trouble. The cook might find out that I’ve interrupted your work.”

Brother
Salvatore smiled, a wisp of bangs falling to cover his brows.

How
old is he
? the nun thought.
He looks like he is fourteen
.

“I’m off at six
in the morning. Lauds is at seven. Perhaps we can discuss more in the morning? I have time then.”

“If you work with me, you may not get enou
gh sleep. I cannot… Anyway, I’ll have to be at the hermitage tomorrow morning.”

“I can help you,” he said, almost breathles
s. “If I wrote down the questions and answers when you interrogate the brothers, you could spend more time interviewing.”

“I think you just want to know more about the crime
, though
interrogate
might not be the word I would choose in this case.”

“I definite
ly want to know more. I’m an avid reader. I read mysteries before I go to sleep. Unless, of course, it’s Thursday.”

“What happens
on Thursday?” She stared into the brother’s dusty blue eyes. The color reminded her of a late summer, when olive farmers prepared for the ripened drupe by burning branches and leaves.

“On
the third Thursday of each month, we all go down to Avalle. We eat and drink at the bar. They toss coins to see who will have to bring us back.”

“That sounds like fun. You’ll have to take me
to one of those Thursday nights if you want me to hire you as my assistant.”

His face reddened
. “Can I do anything now?”

“I’
m going to bed so you can clear the table. I’ll leave you the notebook so you can read it in your free time. In no way should this pad be left where others can read the contents. You aren’t a chatterbox, are you?”

The young man put his finger and thumb to his lips and zipped them shut.

“I’ll have to trust you. It’s very important that when I interview the brothers around here they know nothing about the details of the crime. When they find out you’re helping me, you’ll be pressured to release some of the information. Even a tidbit could ruin this investigation. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sister,”
he said, his face beaming. He grabbed a clean tablecloth from the pile next to him.

The nun rose, leaving her notebook.

By the time she got to the door, she was beginning to have second thoughts. She should have interviewed the boy before letting him read the facts of the case so far. He was already a tainted witness. He was just a boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen. Would he be compelled to spill the beans, or would he follow her directions? Did she fancy him because of his interests? The bishop would certainly come down on her this time for helping another young person want to leave his vocation.

Having gone to bed late, the nun was still
bleary-eyed when she awoke. Dressing, she entered the dining room and hiked to the kitchen to talk with the cook, busy preparing for breakfast after Lauds.

“Good morning
”, she said. “Are you Brother Alonzo?”

“Yes, but I’m very busy. Can our interview
wait until everyone has been fed?”

“I’m
truly sorry. I don’t mean to bother you. But I’ll be picked up in about a half hour and must be up the hill by breakfast time. Do you mind if I have a little something with coffee to keep me going?”

“I believe Brother
Salvatore is setting up the table out front. You can take anything from what is available. There’s fresh coffee, fruit, and rolls. I also have a bag for you in the refrigerator. We made a sandwich because the abbot told us you would be up on the mountain today.”

“How lovely.
That was so good of you. I’ll go out and have something from the table then.”

Realizing she was a
late for the car, the nun grabbed her red-striped bag and scrambled down the stairs. She ran into the abbot, standing with Brother Salvatore on the top step just outside the front door.. “Isn’t Lauds still going, Father?” she asked.

“Yes, Sister, but Brother
Salvatore said he was hoping to speak with you when I questioned him. He told me he’d found your notebook where you left it last night and wants to return it you.”

“Yes,
thank you, Brother Salvatore. I need it indeed. Father,” she said. “I could really use some help. I believe Brother Salvatore is off duty right now. Do you mind if I borrow him? He could take notes while I interview witnesses and attend the remaining prayer services up the hill.”

The
abbot’s brows shot up. “I suppose it’s too early for him to rest in preparation for his next shift…”

“There are places for him t
o sleep at the hermitage if we’re there too long. I can assure you. I’ll make sure he’s cared for.”

“I’m not a teenager, Sister. I’m nearly thirty.”

The abbot smiled. “Brother Salvatore, do you wish to help Sister Angela?”

The boy’s head nodded like a float with a fish on the hook.

“Come on, then,” she said. “Everyone can use a mother, no matter what age.”

Bassi opened the door to the back seat for the nun. Brother
Salvatore circled to get in on the passenger side. The nun was satisfied. Brother Salvatore would make a perfect assistant for her. Perhaps he would be enthusiastic enough to come up with ideas concerning what had really happened at the top of the hill. Was this a murder or a miracle?

The nun led her witness into a small room in an office building opposite the church. “I need a place that’s quiet with few distractions. I hope you understand. This is close to the kitchen so you can return quickly.”

“Is this an inquis
ition?” he asked. “I hope you’ll let me go so I can get some sleep.”

The nun smiled. “Yes, Mr. Pozza.
I think we can make this quick. Let me introduce Brother Salvatore. He’s serving as my secretary. Do you know him?”

“Yes.”

The nun looked up. “How do you know him?”

“He has come by on occasion to visit with one or two of the
eremiti
. He’s always hungry when he comes so I’m instructed to feed him.”

Sister Angela smiled. “You have been described as the head chef here. As head chef, you have certain duties, am I correct?”

“Yes, I create the menu and recipes the nightshift is supposed to follow.”

“Do you have an assistant like the chef at the monastery?”

“No,” said Pozza. “There aren’t so many mouths to feed. I cook lunch and dinner and package the meals. They are sometimes delivered by the dishwasher, but he comes in late so most of the time, I do it myself.”

“And what
keeps you busy when you aren’t doing all that?”

“
I track the inventory,” said the chef.

“You sound like you’re very busy.”

“Some chores can be held over for the night chef. He has time to check the inventory while waiting for the bread to rise or preparing for breakfast.”

“What were you doing the night of the incident?”

“I was home asleep. I didn’t know that there had been an explosion until the next morning when I reported for duty. ”

“You don’t watch or listen to the morning news?”

“No, I don’t want to wake the family. I leave very early.”

“Can you go through
how you found out about it?”

“I parke
d my car and walked to the kitchen.”

“Did
the doorman let you in?”

“No, I have a key to an employee door at the back of the
administrative building. The side of the structure forms the wall on that side of the compound.”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing at first. When I crossed the courtyard to this building and the kitchen, I saw that it was busy inside the perimeter gate.”

“
Didn’t you ask anyone what happened?”

“You mean the strangers running around?”

“You only saw strangers?”

“Look, I make it my business not to get too familiar with the
eremiti
. They aren’t here to make friends.”

“I don’t understand. You said you saw strangers? Were they police or hermits?”

“I’m sorry. I saw strangers. But I don’t ask questions. I wait until I’m in the kitchen.”

“Did you see the house at the far end of the compound? Did you smell smoke?”

“No. My vision would have been blocked by people. The scene looked chaotic. I asked as soon as I entered the building. Augeri was preparing to leave. He told me there had been some kind of explosion.”

“Didn’t that make you want to investigate?”

“No. Augeri said it very calmly so I figured it wasn’t a big thing.”

“You didn’
t see Mr. Neri’s counterpart on the nightshift, Mr. Scali? Has he usually left by the time you come in?”

“No. I
didn’t stop to see anyone in the offices. As I already told you, I walked directly across the courtyard to the kitchen.”

“And Mr. Augeri didn’t see anything?”

“Look,
I come, I work, and then I go home. The position is great. I can be creative. But my heart is with my family in Avalle. As I said, we don’t get close to the
eremiti.
We serve them and then get out of their way.”

“Someone
else must have told you what happened in more detail.”

“Yes. Neri
later told me that there had been an accident in one of the houses. He said the house had been destroyed and that Brother Pietro was not there.”

“You mean he wasn’
t there at the time of the explosion?”

“I took him to mean that, yes.”

“But he could have meant that nobody had found a body,” said Brother Salvatore.

The chef stared at the monk.

“How did he know Brother Pietro wasn’t in the cottage at the time of the explosion?” asked Sister Angela.

“He didn’t say.”

“Is that all he told you?”

“Yes. Was there something else?”

“Did anyone who witnessed the explosion describe the incident to you?”

“No.”

“Did you overhear anyone talking when you delivered their lunches?”

“Yes. Many were still outside watching the police. I was ab
le to hand them their lunches instead of delivering them to their cottages. Did they talk to me? Again no. Why would they? I’m nothing to them. Neri tells me they have a higher purpose and would or should not befriend us.”

“But you could
hear the chatter, I assume.”

“I hear gossip. N
ever firsthand. I don’t listen for long. One doesn’t get to the truth by passing on
chiacchiera.”

“
But detectives listen to everything. We must extract the truth from that
chiacchiera
. Thank you, Mr. Pozza. If you hear anything else, I would appreciate it if you kept me informed. Mr. Neri has my contact information.”

The nun and brother walked back to the kitchen together.

“He didn’t tell us anything,” said Salvatore. “It didn’t sound credible. Anybody would have been curious.”

“What did you expect? He didn’t see anything and wasn’t here at the time of the explosion. There’s always a chance that he heard someone talking, though.
We have to make sure we get as much information as we can.”

“Who’
s next?”

“We’
re going to the kitchen to find the dishwasher, Mr. Rodino.”

“He probably knows nothing.”

“Solving mysteries may not be so interesting to you now, Salvatore. It gets better as we receive more information.”

The dishwasher was just finishing the last of the breakfast dishes.

“Hello, Mr. Rodino. We would like to talk to you about the explosion a few nights ago.”

“I have to go out and collect the dishes the
eremiti
left after breakfast. Then I have to clean them so we can use them for lunch.”

“It should only take a few minutes. Please follow me.”

This interview sounded much like the previous one.

Rodino did not see or hear anything other than what was on the news. Yes, he saw the destruction
when he collected the dishes after lunch the following day. “Pozza warned me that there wasn’t anything to collect in that last house.”

“Did you tarry there?”

“What?”

“I would be curious if there was an explosion near me. I would want to see what I coul
d of the damage. I suppose that’s because I’m nosey. What about you? Did you take a good look?”

“No. I tried to get close, but the police were guarding it. I could see the damage. The roof blew up so it was hard to miss.”

“Were there roof tiles lying around?”

“Yes, but not that many on the
church side of the houses. Unless the police collected them to study them later, they mostly lay on the uphill side of the house.”

“
What do you think happened?”

Rodino hesitated. “I heard that
Brother Pietro disappeared. No one could find him. I know something about explosions, Sister, and I think they would have found some evidence of a body in the house if he had been there. I think he took off.”

“So you
do
know that his body was not found at the cottage. Who told you that?” asked Sister Angela.

“Could it have been one of the
eremiti
?” asked Brother Salvatore.

“No. I don’t
listen when they talk among themselves—unless I hear them in the church. Then they repeat prayers together and sometimes chant. Let me see. I think it was Pozza. I could have overheard it at the site, though. The police talk more than the brothers do.”

“Have you heard any theories about where he went?”

“Nothing serious. I couldn’t repeat the teasing I did hear to a nun.”

“Understood. I’ll let you get back to your work now.”

After Rodino left the room, the nun told Salvatore, “I have one more interview before I have an appointment with a hermit. I have a feeling Mr. Neri is going to give us the same story, though he probably knows more than he’s willing to reveal.”

“So far there has been no discussion about the miracle, Sister. Why don’t they mention it?”

“I suppose they only think about miracles that affect them. They go to church on Sunday and pray that they believe in the Resurrection of Jesus on the third day, but it doesn’t pertain to them directly.”

“
And most people think that a miracle refers to winning millions of lira or escaping death themselves. Is that what you mean, Sister?”

“The workers here aren’
t biblical scholars. Easter is a holiday for church, yes. But it’s also about family and feasting. I don’t believe they would think about a canon’s disappearance as having anything to do with Jesus, do you?” The nun sat back. “I’ll let you get Mr. Neri a cup of coffee, if you would, Brother. I would love a cup too.”