Il Pane Della Vita Read online

  “But…”

  Russo smiled. He was thoroughly relaxed, knowing that he was no longer in competition for the position. “I believe that the position of vice president should remain in Italy. This man needs to see how you operate the central offices. He should know what and who you know because one day he will take your job at the top.”

  Fabri laughed. “I hope the vice president does not plan to force me out.”

  “I didn’t mean that, sir. I meant…”

  “No problem, Dante. I think I can trust you. I will announce your promotion tomorrow. And I promise to rethink the plan to send you to the Czech Republic. You have already given me sound advice.”

  Dante couldn’t speak. He looked at Ciana, her face lit up by a dazzling smile. She was interested. He could tell.

  Fabri introduced his choice for vice president at a meeting the next day, and Russo was shown his new office and secretary soon after that. He knew what to do. Being their new boss, he would no longer hit the cafés with his work friends. His enemies included all those who had interviewed but were not given the position. He would have to have to protect himself.

  After a few weeks as vice president, Russo found he had little time to date. He traveled and met with the heads of factories all over the world. But he did not go to dinner or spend the evening with them. Like a father, Fabri told him where to get women to take care of his needs without leaving his hotel room. He did so, never using the same one twice and always protecting himself from an unintended pregnancy or disease. When he was home, Fabri invited him to dinner, but he rarely saw Ciana.

  “She is studying at the university,” said Fabri. “She only comes to see me during the summer. Ah, daughters. You want to give them everything, but they still do not respond like they did when they were young.”

  Russo smiled. “I can imagine.”

  “You are young, Dante, but someday you will understand.”

  “What is she studying?”

  “Medicine. She has a great future. I shall be very proud when she is addressed as Dr. Fabri. Every sacrifice I have made will have been worth it. I can go to my grave.”

  “What about grandchildren, Lauro? You’ll have to wait to see your grandchildren.”

  “Yes, but I would like to see her as Dr. Fabri before some man comes along and makes her take his name.”

  Russo paused. At first he did not know what to say. “That will be a tall order, telling her to wait until then. She’s pretty. There are probably already boys out there trying to date her.”

  A female assistant stood by the table with dessert.

  “What would you like, Dante? Perhaps a little tart would please you. This one is nice. Would you like her?”

  Russo’s face reddened. He did not look up to watch the assistant leave the room.

  “You, my son, can share everything I have here, but I will never give you my daughter.”

  Lauro Fabri had Dante to his house several times after that, but thankfully, Ciana was nowhere to be seen. She had probably forgotten him, attracted to younger men at the university. At work, Russo quickly understood the game and was liked and respected by most of the staff. But the following year, all was about to change. Ciana was home for the summer when Fabri invited everyone to a garden party.

  He saw her. Ciana was giggling with some young classmates. She took out a cigarette, and a gentleman near the bar lit it for her. Letting out a long stream of smoke and sipping a cocktail from a tumbler in her other hand, she looked grown up. Russo smiled.

  She glanced in his direction. Her eyes holding his gaze, she tilted her chin. Crushing her half-smoked cigarette on the patio with her five-inch heel, she pointed to her drink. He nodded, and she stepped to the bar to order one.

  She was there by his side when he turned to find her. She handed him the whisky sour and offered him a cigarette.

  “No thanks. I hear you have been at the university.”

  “And you’ve been Papà’s vice president. He said he thinks you’re doing well and that you’re very busy.”

  “You’ve brought friends from school?”

  “Yes, Vera and Elda. I told them about you.”

  Russo smiled again, realizing that she had indeed thought of him. “I hope you said nice things.”

  “Oh yes. I also told them that you would dance with me.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “I know you dance because Papà told me you did. He said you swept a young English manager off her feet when you were in London.” Ciana took out another cigarette and waited for him to light it.

  As he did, he wondered how Fabri had found out about the incident in London. Did he have others watching him? Russo shuddered. What else did Fabri know? He gazed at Ciana. “What?”

  “You asked me to dance. I told them you would so we have to dance.” She grabbed his hand and put it around her waist.

  Ciana was a good dancer despite her heels. He waltzed with her, keeping a formal distance. As they turned, he searched the patio for her father. He must have gone inside. The pressures of the job melted away. The music slowed, and he relaxed his stance. He bent down to whisper in her ear, asking her if she had time to date between classes. When he stood up straight, she brushed against him, her hips undulating. When he failed to respond, she moved away. He caught her arm and pulled her closer so that they were connected, their hips moving together.

  “You are interested in more than dancing, I see,” she said, her breath warming his cheek.

  His face burned. “I’m not sure how I should act with you, Ciana. I come from a modest background. I don’t believe it would be wise.”

  “You mean Papà would think you were being forward if we saw each other outside of these parties, don’t you?” She looked up at him, revealing her deep eyes, blue in the soft lanterns over the outdoor dance floor. “You put your job first. I don’t want a lover who’s always worried about what his boss thinks.”

  She began to back away, but he again pulled her toward him. “I’m not afraid of your father, Ciana. I’m aware that you’re strong and make up your own mind.”

  “Does my strength scare you?” she asked, her eyes turning green as the couple danced along the perimeter of the floor.

  The tall cypress just off the dance floor formed a wall around Fabri’s garden. Russo had walked through it months earlier. Fountains and paths meandered around sweet-smelling shrubs. He had gotten lost several times before finding an exit. Russo turned her to the right at the end of dance floor and pulled her to an opening in the wall.

  Ciana giggled and held on. They walked side by side toward a fountain with the figure of Fortuna.

  “Not here,” she finally said. “Everyone knows how to find the fountain.” She tugged his hand and led him down a narrower path.

  After a few minutes, Russo was completely lost. The bushes opened onto a small patch of lawn lined with Roman statues and vases, overflowing with summer flowers. Ciana sat on the lawn. He hesitated before sitting beside her.

  “No one comes here. This is my garden.” She turned her back to him.

  His cloudy mind saw the zipper, but he was unsure what she meant. She turned her head to smile, and he quickly took the tab and pulled it down below her waist. Then she spun around and pulled the dress down to reveal her breasts. Her hard nipples were pink like the flowers in the urn beside them.

  Russo started to tremble. He reached to feel the velvety softness of her breasts, but she stopped him.

  “You have to remove something now.”

  Russo tugged at his coat, but it wouldn’t come off. Ciana rose to stand above him. She tried to help him pull his arms out of the sleeves. Her breasts brushed his face, and before his brain could register any danger that might be lurking in the bushes, he reached up to rest his hands on them. Then he tasted them and buried his face in them.

  Unable to pull off the coat, they left it in place. Ciana tackled his belt while Russo concentrated on peeling the silky dress fabric up her legs
so it would not tear, but Russo’s urgency was overtaking his need to feel caution. As soon as his fingertips felt the panties, he hooked them and ripped them off. Ciana had just released the button and zipper of his pants when he took her shoulders and lay them firmly down on the grass. With little ceremony and no explanation, he was in her. He stared in the direction of her face and eyes. He moved in and out with little regard for her comfort. It was over quickly. His body flopped forward, his shriveled member dropping to the lawn between her legs.

  He listened to Ciana’s heart pound as the fog in his brain lifted.

  Ciana pushed him to one side and searched for her panties. “Dante, you need to be more careful.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re so beautiful. I couldn’t help…” He zipped up and straightened his coat.

  She smiled. “We should get back to the party before Papà discovers we’re gone.” She slipped her arms through the armholes and then turned to let him zip her up.

  He raked the grass out of her hair. “You’re beautiful, Ciana.”

  She brushed the front of his coat. “I adore you too, Dante. You’re not at all like the other men that work with Papà.”

  His mind whirled. How could he get her out of his thoughts long enough to do his work? What if she told her father? Did Fabri already know what was going on? Did he bait him to see what he would do? Should he tell her about her father’s plans for her? Could he ask her to come with him? Russo wobbled slightly. Then he took her hand so she could lead him out. What would he do without her?

  Five

  Permission

  Desiring to proceed with the case before she had to return to the monastery for dinner, she returned to administrative offices. As she was going in, a monk, presumably a hermit, on his way out of the building, held the door for her. She nodded her gratitude and proceeded to the first office and knocked.

  “Ah, you must be Sister Angela. Father Rafaello said I might expect you today. You do not need to knock each time you want to see us,” said Neri. “This is an office. Please take a seat at my desk. May I get you some espresso?” When the nun nodded, he pressed a button on his desk and ordered two coffees.

  “Yes. Aldo Neri. Is that your full name? He must also have told you why I’m here.”

  “Yes, yes. You are investigating the explosion for the diocese. He thought you might want to talk to me because I am in charge of the workers here at the top of the hill.”

  “Please tell me how many people work for you.”

  “I have six workers here at the moment,” he responded.

  “And they’re happy, I suppose?”

  “Right now, yes. Over the years, some have worked out and some have not. In addition, they come and go at different times. I am here at six in the morning. I work until six in the evening. The assistant who replaces me for the nighttime shift comes in when I leave. There must always be someone here to make sure the eremiti have no intruders or are not sick. We also have two cooks. The day chef makes mid-day meal and prepares dinner before he leaves. Right after dinner the night chef arrives, he cleans up the kitchen, and bakes bread that he will serve at breakfast.”

  The nun listened to his recitation and tried not to nod with the staccato beat.

  “They have one dishwasher who stays into the evening to wash the dinner dishes for the night chef. In addition, there are a couple of housekeepers who clean each little house once a week and also the administrative buildings around the courtyard.”

  “Oh my, Mr. Neri, I had no idea how extensive the work was up here. Do you all live in this building?”

  “None of us lives here, though there are a couple of beds in a room upstairs. We can sleep here if the weather does not allow us to leave or if my assistant or I cannot relieve each other. There is also a shower on the second floor and two washrooms. Food is never handled with dirty hands.”

  “Who is the doorman?”

  “There are two security guards so the place is watched both day and night.”

  “I didn’t think you would want a guard here.”

  “You mean leave everything in God’s hands, Sister? Not practical.”

  “And you. What about when you need to take a day off?”

  “One or more of the eremiti come down to spell us—usually over the weekend or for vacations. But that should not concern you because we have not had anyone spell us since before the…”

  “The accident, yes. What about the others? I’m sure you have had replacement chefs or other workers from time to time.”

  “Yes, they usually come from Collinaterra or Avalle.”

  “And has any of the staff taken off recently?”

  “No, though one or two are due to take vacation time. Certainly you don’t plan to interrogate the staff. I only expected you to talk to the eremiti, Sister Angela. Perhaps I should check on your questions. You can decide who you want to talk to first.”

  “No. I can ask the helpers myself. I’ll need to interview them too.”

  “But they do not have time, Sister.”

  “It won’t take long, Mr. Neri. I must speak briefly with all of them.”

  “Many are not here during the day.”

  “Then I’ll come when they’re available. I’ll also want to speak with the hermits. What do I do to be allowed to speak with them?”

  Neri took a book from his drawer. “I shall make appointments for you. I suppose you can speak to about three of them each day, in between the services, of course.”

  “Fine. I can interview the hermits as you instruct. During the services, I can speak with the help. May I start tomorrow morning?”

  “I have not asked them, Sister. Please give me a day or so to convince them. You are taking them away from their devotions. Eremiti do not like to be interrupted. That is why they are here, Sister.”

  The nun smiled. “I realize they’ll be disturbed, Mr. Neri, but I have dispensation from the Bishop to solve a crime that might affect them too. I’m afraid my need trumps theirs I’ll be here at eight tomorrow morning and expect to begin my interviews. I assume the hermits have been served breakfast before Lauds and things will be winding down at that time.”

  “But we will still be very busy, Sister.”

  “So noted. I’ll check with the abbot when I reach the bottom of the mountain to make sure I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes. I’m supposed to find Mr. Bassi and tell him I’m ready for him to drive me down,” she said, standing and waiting for him to show her to the kitchen. “Since I agree that your presence here is so important, Mr. Neri, I offer you the first question.”

  “Please, Sister, ask whatever you wish.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “Well…”

  “There are no remains of Brother Pietro, Mr. Neri. Does that mean there isn’t a crime?”

  “Are you asking do I think Brother Pietro jettisoned himself into heaven? Perhaps. Do I think someone else tried to blow him up? I do not believe anyone here would do that. But without a body, how do you prove anything? I imagine the Church is going to win, whether you or I trust in miracles. That’s what I believe.”

  “I saw you speaking with Aldo,” said Bassi, carefully maneuvering the car down the hill.

  “What do you think of him?”

  “He has a clean record. Since he’s been here, there have been no murders or accidents. So far, the hermits have all retired to the monastery below or the nursing home in Avalle. They usually don’t die here. I suppose no sudden deaths occur because it’s so quiet and serene.”

  “Are you saying there have been deaths below because they have to toil to keep Santo Velo physically standing?”

  Bassi smiled. “No. It was just a comment about the efficiency of the eremo under Aldo.”

  “What about the other workers? You know the chefs because you take their requests for supplies.”

  “They have worked at the eremo for a long while. The day chef, Vincenzo, has been there about four years. He’s affable and gentle with
his assistant who tries hard to please him. The night chef, Sergio, is new.”

  “New?”

  “Yes. He’s been there about a year. I suppose that position turns over more frequently because it’s difficult to work nights.”

  “There is also a night administrator.”

  “Yes, he’s been there at least a year, maybe two, but he’s not usually there when I am.”

  “Is there gossip?”

  “About Scali, the night administrator? Only that the kitchen staff complains he eats more than his share. Luciano says he insists on tasting the food. It’s been suggested that they threaten to make a batch with too much spice to surprise him.”

  The car pulled up in front of the monastery, and Sister Angela emerged. “Oh, Mr. Bassi. I promised I’d be up there again by eight in the morning. Is that too early to expect you to take me up?”

  “No. If you want to be prompt, I suggest you be down here by seven-forty. Can you get some breakfast by that time?”

  “Yes, I’ll make sure there are a few goodies ready for me.”

  Her head down, Sister Angela scribbled 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.

  “They’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 blinked his mesmerizing, blue eyes. “I’m interested in crime, yes.”

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

  “I’m not 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.”