Il Pane Della Vita Read online

  “You are aware that they don’t speak directly.”

  “I understand that someone has to inform them who’s calling on a hermit and the time of the visit. They have to tell you what they want to eat, don’t they?”

  “They usually leave notes.”

  “And what did that hermit want from you when I entered the gate yesterday? I passed him as he went into the administrative building. Did he just leave you a note then?”

  “Brother Donato asked me to give him a bottle of wine for a guest that was coming the next day.”

  “Was it a note?”

  “No.”

  “So you’re the one who speaks with the hermits when they need something.”

  “Yes.”

  “So tell me about Brother Pietro.”

  “There are only two ordained priests living as eremiti now. They are Brother Pietro and Brother Francisco.”

  “What do you know about Brother Pietro?”

  “I know that he has always been here.”

  “Where? Up here? He was a hermit when you arrived at the hermitage?”

  “No. He came to the eremo immediately after arriving at the monastery. Most of the eremiti do only periods of time here. Many cannot take the quiet for long periods of time. I believe Brother Tiberio will be leaving us at the end of the month. We shall have to prepare the house for someone new.”

  “Once they return to the monastery, do they ever become hermits again?”

  “Oh yes. Brother Tiberio has been here several times.”

  “How long do they usually last?”

  “On the average, they stay from four to six months at a time.”

  “What about the ordained priests? Do they stay longer?”

  “No. They too return—except Brother Pietro.”

  “Why? Did he have a difficult time before coming to this monastery?”

  “I would not know that. The eremiti do not reveal their secrets to me. You will have to ask the abbot for more information.”

  “Do the priests do anything different during their time here? Do they hear confessions and lead the brothers in prayer?”

  “Yes, at least Brother Francisco does. I am not sure I ever heard Brother Pietro lead the others in prayer though. He seemed to be quieter than the others. Few have talked about him—like they were not acquainted with him. And confession? Did Brother Francisco listen to Brother Pietro’s confessions? I do not know.”

  “Did anyone ever speak badly of Brother Pietro in front of you?”

  “No. Nor would they say anything personal to me, Sister. I serve them. I am not an equal.”

  “Who told you the details about the explosion?”

  “No one. I could see it was not the gas tanks, Sister. I am not blind. I checked those right away. I looked at the house. There is tape on the door, but I looked inside. I saw nothing there. It was empty. I saw the damage, but the police have never given me the details.”

  “What about the fact that Brother Pietro is dead?”

  “Is he? I heard that the body has not been located.”

  “Who told you that? One of the brothers?”

  “No. I do not know. I heard it through the chatter, I suppose.”

  “Not from the police?”

  “I barely saw them on that first day.”

  “One of your employees?”

  “I really do not remember.” Neri wiped perspiration from his upper lip.

  “Anything else?”

  “I have heard that there might have been some kind of miracle.”

  “Did you hear that from one of help? A cook, maybe? Or perhaps a housekeeper?”

  “No. I heard it from one or more of the brothers, Sister. I cannot remember which, but I assume one of them will tell you when you interview him.”

  “So you’ll pull together for me a list of visitors for the last two months and give me copies tomorrow morning.”

  “For Brother Pietro?”

  “For all the hermits. I would also like to see the paperwork passed around about the gas tank.”

  “But a gas tank did not explode.”

  “I would like to see what the difficulties were concerning the instillation of the tanks and if anyone from the gas company has visited in the last year. Let me see. I would also like to see who attended the services in the last week.”

  “I am not sure the eremiti keep track of that, Sister. Their attendance is not official, you know. Perhaps one of the eremiti who went to the service can help you.”

  “I have a hermit visit in a half hour. Let me see, it’s Brother Gustavo. What can you tell me about him?”

  “He is our newest eremita, having arrived about a month ago. I barely know him. Perhaps the other eremiti do. He has the first house closest to the gate.”

  The nun sat up. “Other than coming here to see you or visiting the kitchen, do the hermits ever leave the premises?”

  “I am sure they do, Sister, though if it is to meet with someone outside the eremo, it would sort of defeat the purpose of their being here. I have seen outsiders come through the chapel door to visit us or go to church but have never seen any of the eremiti leave.”

  “It is locked at night?”

  “Though the eremiti have keys to the gate, it is locked all the time to prevent unwanted visitors from bothering the eremiti.” The door from the chapel is locked except at specific times. The front door to the chapel is only open during the day. The doorman locks that up at night.

  “You’re free to get back to your job, Mr. Neri. I appreciate your candor. It will help me with the other interviews.”

  Neri rose but seemed to have lost some of his arrogance. “I am glad I helped, Sister. I have confidence you will find out what happened, but I also hope you do not destroy the peaceful quiet of our holy place on the mountain.”

  The nun watched him leave the room. We cannot save this happy little hermitage without discovering and excising the cancer, Mr. Neri. She stopped in mid-thought. “I thought we were investigating a miracle, Brother Salvatore. How would that ruin his pretty little hermitage? I don’t believe God would let that happen.”

  Seven

  Sweet Treat

  Brother Salvatore sidled up to the nun’s table and stood quietly.

  “Do you need to reset my table?” she asked, removing her reading glasses and lifting her laptop.

  The monk deftly pushed the clean white linen under the laptop and scurried to the other side to pull it into place. “Are we going to the eremo again early in the morning?”

  Sister Angela put down the laptop and folded it shut. “No, not so early. I believe we should go into Collinaterra and find the gas company. We’ll leave the same time,about twenty minutes to eight, but we’ll have a little diversion before we head up. You don’t have any problem with that, do you, Brother? Did anyone say they needed you to stay and help here?”

  “No, I’m fine, but there’s a little bakery in Collinaterra that serves great rolls, Sister Angela. We can skip breakfast here and eat in the village.” He squirmed.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me. Do they have coffee? What’s wrong?”

  “I have to check my change, Sister. I’m not sure I have enough money until the beginning of the month.”

  “Maybe you spend too much on your monthly trip to visit the pub in Avalle. Is that possible?”

  Brother Salvatore shot her a sheepish smile.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m buying for both you and Ignazio.”

  “Do you need me for anything else tonight?”

  “No, why don’t you get permission to sleep until they need help with the bread? I was just taking notes. I think I’ll hand Mr. Neri a list of names in the order I want to speak with them. It will take forever if we talk to people who know nothing first.”

  When she reached her room, Sister Angela sat down to send an email to Father Sergio. Though she had already broken her promise to write him often, she proceeded to tell him about the interviews with the service peop
le at the hermitage. So far, she wrote, most of the people I have interviewed have not mentioned the resident as having an ascension. Of course, these are regular Christians who do not necessarily think such a miracle important to their daily lives.

  Relieved that she had at least tried to communicate with the office that hired her, she then wrote an email to Chief Detective Morena, asking him if his medical examiner, Dr. Zaza, had anything more to report. She also let him know that she had interviewed Neri, Pozza, the day cook, and Rodino, the dishwasher. She would also love some kind of report on Scali, the night administrator that Pozza mentioned.

  Then she sat back to watch a bit of television while she got ready for bed. No TV in my cell in Montriano, she said to herself. This is certainly a treat I could get used to. The television continued through the night, but the nun did not. She could not keep her eyes open through the first commercial.

  When the car stopped, Brother Salvatore tumbled out of the seat and opened the door for Sister Angela. “I love this place,” said Salvatore. “You have to see the pastries.”

  “Nico’s Panetteria,” said Sister Angela. “It sounds heavenly already.”

  Bassi entered and held the door for the nun.

  “Hello Nico,” said Brother Salvatore. “We would like something fresh and sweet. What have you got?”

  “Good morning, Brother. I have sfogliatelle just out of the oven. The panettone is fresh this morning, and of course, the cannoli. The ricotta is so sweet I do not need to add sugar.” He kissed his fingers. “Excuse me, Brother, but I see we have a bella donna among us.” He reached out to take the nun’s hands in his. “Sister, please, what can I get you this morning?”

  “This is Sister Angela, a noted detective from Montriano,” said Brother Salvatore.

  “Yes? I know Montriano. It is nearly as beautiful as its residents.”

  A woman appeared from a door at the back and approached with a pan lined with sfogliatelle.

  “And this is my bellissima moglie, Gina.” He slipped his arm around his wife’s waist, but she pulled away.

  The nun inhaled the smells of fresh-baked pastries, setting the pleasing scent in her memory. “I would like one of the fresh sfogliatelle,” she said. “And some coffee, please.”

  “Americano or espresso?”

  “Espresso.”

  Salvatore ordered one too, and Bassi asked for a slice of pannitone.

  The group sat at a table and anxiously awaited their treats.

  When the baker delivered their coffee and breakfast, Sister Angela asked. “Do you know the hermitage on the hill, Nico?”

  “Yes. I bake bread for both Santo Velo and the eremo.”

  “I wondered if that bread was yours. Each morning and evening, I look forward to spreading it with the fresh preserves. Noting the number of brothers at the monastery, you must sell quite a bit there.”

  “Yes, my bakery sells to several enterprises around here. It is a good business, no? Someone from Santo Velo arrives at the back door every morning, very early, and I pack up the warm loaves for him.”

  “How long has this bakery been in business here?”

  “More than four or five years now. Yes, this year is my fifth. The previous baker had to retire, and I was here to pay him for the store and equipment. It was a good deal for us both.”

  “Did he also sell to the monastery?”

  “I do not think so. I believe they baked their own bread. In fact they still do, but they cannot produce nearly enough for the number of monks there. They came to me a few years after I opened and asked me to bake for them.”

  “I’m surprised they haven’t asked for pastries too.”

  The monk laughed. “Father Rafaello worries we’ll get too fat. We don’t work in the fields as some monks do. We make wine, beer, cheese and produce artwork. We sit and chant most of the time. Can you imagine what we’d look like if we ate pastries every day?”

  “You exercise when you go to Avalle, do you not?”

  “Yes. Once a month we go to town and dance like we’re crazy. Unfortunately, what calories we burn off, we make up for with beer and other alcoholic beverages. You know that, Ignazio. You often have to come drive us home because we can’t see straight.”

  “Allora,” said Bassi. “I have to drive them home when they call and then find a way to get their car back to the monastery too.”

  The nun again turned to Nico. “Did you see the explosion?”

  “No, I was too busy. Gina went out with friends that evening. She certainly deserves a night off. Anyway, I was alone and busy making the bread. I did not know anything had happened until the monastery came to pick up the loaves the next morning. I asked Gina if she heard anything, and she was just as surprised as I was.”

  “Did you know Brother Pietro?”

  Nico looked away for just a second. “I am sorry. I thought I heard something. I thought Gina would be coming out with more pannitone. You say it was Brother Pietro? No. Has he ever been sent here to pick up bread?”

  “No, he is an eremita,” said Brother Salvatore. “He would never come for that.”

  “Then no, I would not know him. He was the one who was killed?”

  “They haven’t found the body,” said Brother Salvatore. “Perhaps he’s floating among the clouds.”

  “Ah,” said Nico, again distracted. “I should make sure the pannitone is not burning.” He walked away, pocketing the change Sister Angela had given him.

  Brother Salvatore looked at the nun. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him about the body.”

  Her mind taking in what the baker had told them, Sister Angela had barely heard him. “I’m sure the story will be in the papers soon,” she said. “But no, it isn’t a good idea to tell people what we’re investigating. Nico is talkative. The whole village will probably know about our dilemma soon.

  The nun walked into the power company just down the road and introduced herself to the receptionist who let her into the manager’s office. The nun sat down in front of his desk. “Mr. Lippi, you have probably heard that there was a gas explosion at the hermitage up the hill. Were you here when the tank was installed?”

  “No, Sister. I’ve already spoken with the police. The tank is intact. The incident must have happened in the cottage.”

  “I suppose the police showed you the devices used to ignite the explosion.”

  “Yes. The detective showed me cuts in the pipes. That part of the pipe was exposed. The pipe inside the walls would have been hidden and difficult to get to without damage to the wall. The small device could have ignited the gas after the leakage. The bigger device was probably not involved in the explosion, and I told them I had no idea why it was used.”

  “I want to see the records of visits by your field workers.”

  “For how long? That would take the people in this office weeks to gather.”

  “How many workers do you have?”

  “We have five. That includes both clerical and those in the field.”

  “I would like to interview each of them.”

  “Why didn’t the police do that?”

  “I’m sure they were going to approach you soon. Remember, this may be a murder investigation. Your workers would be experts in the handling of gas, and if one wasn’t involved himself, he may have inadvertently told the perpetrator how to destroy such a building.”

  Lippi stood. “Perhaps Morena can get a warrant, Sister. I won’t interrupt the valuable resources of this company without one.”

  The nun stood. “It would be in your best interest for us to find the perpetrator, Mr. Lippi. What if he has something against the monastery and hermitage in general? What if this explosion was an experiment? If he succeeds in getting away with this crime, maybe the tanks will be next.”

  Feeling better, Sister Angela marched into Neri’s office. “I hope you have someone who may have actually seen the action the other night. I gave you a list and want to follow the order on the list, Mr. Neri. The people at
the top of the list will be unable to remember by the time I get to them.”

  “Yes, yes, Sister Angela. I am doing the best I can. I do not know why the police are not investigating. Let me check your list today.”

  The nun understood the jab. Neri would not realize the strength of the bishop’s influence in this case. Perhaps seeking the abbot’s help would get the investigation going, but she might lose Neri’s trust, if indeed he did trust her.

  “I have the two of our housekeepers on the list. They would tell you the most about the eremita because they had access to his cottage”

  The nun’s anger subsided. “Yes, that’s a good angle.”

  “I also have Brother Francisco. He is the only other ordained priest and leads the prayer services. I thought he would know more about Brother Pietro because he might have heard his confessions. Let me remind you…”

  “I’m well aware of the rules of confession, Mr. Neri.”

  “Your list leads with his close neighbors. I shall try to get one of those for this afternoon, if you wish.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps I can give you a revised schedule before I leave. Were you able to get that list of visitors?”

  “No. I have someone working on that. Let me see how we are coming. Maybe we can break it down and give you a month or so at a time.”

  “I don’t understand why there might be a delay.”

  “The list has not been added to the computer, Sister. I understand that in the world outside there are several people that can key it in, but here we find a dearth of technical experts.”

  “You have a computer. Perhaps you could train someone to do that job.”

  “Yes, well—I have to admit when this computer goes down, it takes several days for Brother Bruno to come and fix it.”

  “I understand. I’ll head to the conference room now to interview the housekeepers.”

  “Oh, and Brother Francisco prefers you talk to him in the chiesa. That is where the brother talks to visitors.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Neri.”

  As she started to leave, a monk entered to deliver something to Mr. Neri. Holding the door, the nun hesitated. When the monk turned to leave, she recognized him as someone from Santo Velo. He nodded and headed back out the door.