Il Pane Della Vita (11 page)

The nun entered the church off the courtyard and slowed to admire the simple beauty of the altar.

“Please, let’s sit in the pew, Sister, said Brother Francisco. “I’m sorry that I asked to meet with you in the church instead of across the courtyard. This room keeps me grounded.”

“Me too,” said Sister Angela.
“On the night of the explosion, did Brother Pietro come to Compline?”

“
Yes, I’m surprised that you didn’t already know that. He sits in the first pew to the left at every service.”

“Did he look troubled?”

“No, his face showed nothing different than usual.”

“Do you lead the services?”

“Most, yes, though he has filled in for me when I got sick. He’s welcome to do more, but he chooses not to. I feel better when I’m leading the prayers, and he prefers to repeat them. It’s just a difference in style, I suppose.”

“And you hear all the confessions?”

“No. He does a number of confessions too. Usually, a brother comes to one of us and requests a confession. I schedule confessions at a certain time and make an appointment with the requesting brother. I believe Brother Pietro does the same. I’ve seen him in here on occasion doing just that.”

“So brothers
asked him to hear their confessions?”

“Yes. Several brothers prefer him, why?”

“I heard a comment that brothers found him unfriendly.”

Brother Francisc
o smiled. “He’s quiet. That’s true. But he doesn’t lose his temper and speak when spoken to. You are aware, Sister, that we don’t speak to each other often. Perhaps I should remind the brothers again that we all prefer the serenity of the wind whispering through the pines to the screech of a voice. We have new brothers all the time, and I have to repeat the rules often.”

“Do you hear each other’s confessions?”

“Yes.”

“Was he troubled lately?” She looked up when he did not answer.

“We’re troubled when we feel we haven’t done our best to please the Lord, Sister. So it’s difficult to say if he felt more disturbed than during a usual confession.”

The nun
tried frantically to think of another way to put it without breaking the Church’s confession rules. “What about fear of something?”

“Sister?”

“Fear of being killed, Brother,” frustration beginning to come into her voice. “Did you understand him to be in fear of his own life?”

“I don’t think so. I believe he might have been anxious about
his life in heaven, but fear for his physical life was never mentioned.”

“A nam
e…” said Sister Angela. She leaned back in her chair in the dining room after enjoying a tasty pasta meal. She had to remember to thank Brother Alonzo. “I asked for background, and all I get from the bishop is a name. He’s a priest. I already knew that. But from where did he come? Did he have a parish?”

“Lift your arms, Sister,” said Brother Salvatore, tugging on the tablecloth. “What’s the matter? You look confused.”

“He’s Father Teo.”

“Who?”

“Brother Pietro.”

“Why did he change his name?” Brother Salvatore gathered the dirty tablecloth and let it drop to the floor.

“Good question. I wonder where he came from. Was he a vicar in a parish?”

“Can’t a computer tell you that?”

Sister Angela smiled. “Yes, but I would need a few other tools.”

“Like what?”

“Like a list of all the parishes in Italy and their vicars on a given date.”

“Maybe Brother Bruno would know where to get that.”

“Perhaps Chief Detective Morena can get the information too. I’ll have to call Father Sergio and see if he can help.” She stood up. “Are you telling me that I’m not up to date with my computer skills? I already Googled it. No luck.

Brother Salvatore smiled.
“What about tomorrow? Do we have more interviews up top?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet. I’ve got to think about it.”

He was there when the train pulled into the station. She could see him through the window, standing there. Was he excited?

She grabbed the bag on the rack above her head and followed the line of passengers disembarking.

Dante grabbed her bag and dragged it down the steep steps. “What the hell are you carrying in the bag?” he asked. “It feels like
you packed your whole life in it.”

“It is,” she said smiling. She kissed his cheek and felt
a tinge of excitement. ”I’m glad you came, Dante. I was worried you’d be off in another country like an obedient puppy.”

“I was, but you sounded uneasy over the phone
, and I figured you had an emergency of some sort. Why else wouldn’t you call your father’s driver?”

She looked around her. The pl
ace was dingy, like most of Rome in the fading summer. “Why don’t we go to a nice restaurant? My treat.”

“You don’t have to treat, Ciana. Do you want to hobnob with friends
, or do you want someplace your friends don’t go?”

“
I don’t think it would be wise to show up with you in front of my father’s friends, do you, Dante?”

Ru
sso smiled. “No. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind about flaunting our relationship.”

“You think he saw us leave the dance floor?” she teased. “I hope you didn’t worry about
it the rest of my school term.”

“My car is over here.
It’s late. I suppose you’re hungry. We can eat and then talk.”

Russo ordered Ciana an
aperitif, and she took a long sip before settling down to gaze at the view.

“I asked for the
table overlooking the Tiber and the Vatican. The lights are beautiful, aren’t they?”

“I could look out at it forever.”

The waiter approached and asked if they wanted to order. When Ciana showed no interest, Russo gestured him away.

“I thought you were hungry, Ciana. Do we need to talk first?”

“As soon as you order me another drink.”

Russo called for the waiter once more.

“I need to discuss the relationship, Dante,” she said, still looking out of the window.

Russo squirmed, even though he suspected that she might want to talk abo
ut it. “I explained why we can’t meet often, Ciana. Your father…”

“I know what my father told you.” She stared into his eyes, the waiter slipping another drink near her hand.

“You understand the position in which that puts us.”

“You’re afraid that he’ll take you
r position from you, I suppose.” Her voice was hard.

“I’m afraid of what he’ll do to you. Wouldn’t it be easier for both of us if you get your medical license before we reveal our relationship?”

“You think he’ll want me to marry you then? That’s a laugh. He has a line of gentleman waiting for me and my degree. I assume you didn’t know that part of it.”

Russo felt the sting of her remarks but
tried to ignore them. He had considered the impossibility of the relationship since the party. Of course Fabri would not sanction a liaison with a man that did not have the credentials. Russo’s father was educated but lost his tenure when his relationship with a prostitute became public. Two years later, he had drunk himself to death. His mother sewed church vestments at pennies an hour. She still lived in Umbria with a new husband who sold produce from a cart on the street. Russo visited her soon after his successful promotion but moved to a nearby hotel when his half-siblings soiled the sheets of the bed he shared with them.

“If you called me because you wanted to break
off the relationship, you needn’t have bothered, Ciana. I’m fine. I can take you home as soon as you’ve eaten dinner.”

“I don’t want to break it off, Dante. Perhaps this would be easier if we went to some place more private.”

That night, the nun tossed and turned, thinking about the interviews she had in the afternoon with Brothers Donato and Orsino, both neighbors along the back fence.

“
I was reading in bed, Sister. My bedroom window looks right into Brother Pietro’s living room. I saw the flash and then heard a loud boom. I reached up and turned off my nightlight so I could see better.”

“
How long after returning from Compline did you see something?”

“Maybe about twenty minutes. Compline ended at midnight. I was on the path to my cottage within five minutes of the of the recessional.

“Did you notice Brother Pietro through his living room window before the blast?”

“Sadly, no,
” said Brother Donato.” I try not to look through the windows of the other brothers, especially when their shades are drawn.”

“We
re the shades drawn in Brother Pietro’s cottage?”

“Yes. The lights were on. I saw that. I would have put down my own shades, but when I’m lying down, I don’t
see into his cottage, and he doesn’t see into mine. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Sister Angela. “
You saw that his lights were on in his living room as you were preparing for bed but did not see him. Had you run into him earlier?”

“That’s the poi
nt. He was behind me when we recessed from the church. I saw him at the gate because I held it open for him. He followed me all the way up the hill. At least I think so. I may have just heard his footsteps, but I’m sure he was home.”

“So you wished him good night and saw him go into his cottage.”

“Well, not exactly. We don’t usually wish each other good night because that would break the spell of evening prayer.”

“Did you see him go up to his front door, Brother Donato?”

“No, I can’t see his front door from here, but I heard a click and then a door close.”

“Is it possible you heard one of your other neighbors? Who lives on the gate side of your house here?”

“Brother Tiberio did,” said Brother Donato. “I think he went back down, though. Maybe the cottage is empty.”

“But his doorstep
doesn’t face yours because it’s hidden, isn’t it?”

“Let me think. I’m not sure if I looked back at Brother Pietro or not. I don’
t make a very good detective, do I, Sister?”

“And overall? What do you think happened next door?”

“It was definitely a miracle. I mean, what else could it be?”

“An accident?”

“No, I mean we sort of saw him and then he was gone. I know he followed me home, and his body isn’t there now. What else could have happened?”

“Di
d you actually see him fly out of his roof?” asked Brother Salvatore.

“No, but the explosion was pretty big.
”

“Let’s move on
to another question, Brother Donato,” said the nun. “How well did you know Brother Pietro?”

“He was quiet, but I did confess to him once a week.”

“Ah, did he speak personally in the confessional?”

“Well, no.” the hermit chuckled. “But t
he penance he meted out wasn’t so bad. I figured he could relate, if you understand me.”

“So you liked him.”

“Um, I guess. I didn’t know him that well, but he never did anything to make me feel that he was insincere about his faith.”

“He wasn’t too
quiet
for you?”

“I always say too quiet is better than too loud.”

“Did you mention you believed you saw a miracle to any of the other brothers?”