Il Pane Della Vita (23 page)

“What we found was disturbing. The cameras didn’t give us the whole picture. If no one left through the back gate, then how and with whom did Brother Pietro leave? There was a monk who walked through the courtyard gate after
Compline toward Brother Pietro’s cottage, but no one seems to be able to identify him. How did he get in? There’s no record of someone entering the courtyard that evening, and Father Francisco didn’t mention a stranger at Compline that night. This is troubling. How can you keep the brothers safe if your system doesn’t catch people?”

“You’
re aware that relatives come to visit, and we aren’t required to log them in.”

“Yes we are,” said Brother Salvatore.
“But don’t you have to let them in through the chapel?”

“Well, yes, unless they have a key.”

“And who gives them keys?” asked Sister Angela. “You? Mr. Neri? How do you know the people visiting are indeed relatives?”

“Have any of the
eremiti
complained when we let in a visitor they didn’t know?”

“Perhaps Brother Pietro would complain if he were still alive. I would think the death of on
e of the hermits would be a breach of contract.”

“I believe you should take that up with Steffen, Sister. He’s the one who makes the decisions on how we conduct the security here.”

“Mr. Klug will certainly be notified of what’s going on. The chief detective will make him aware of our findings.”

Brother Salvatore tapped the nun on the shoulder and pointed to his watch.

When they were outside, she said, “Thank you Brother for reminding me of the time.”

“Actually we have ten minutes, but you
r face was so red I thought we should get you a glass of water before we talked to Brother Donato.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have
spoken to Bauer that way. It’s just that…”

“He sounded like he didn’t care? I got that. They seem to be too casual about what happened. If that were my job, I’d be horrified that
a murderer broke in and killed a person. I would be more upset if I was supposed to protect that person. They haven’t even tightened security. I wonder if they were in on it.”

Brother Donato found the detectives as soon as the recession ended at the gate. “Please come in. We can sit in my garden.” He held open the gate
.

Sister Angela and Brother Salvatore followed him up the path to h
is cottage. Once at the door, the monk let them through the cottage to the garden where they sat in the shade of the eave.

“You have a lovely garden
, Brother. I can smell the plumeria. I thought Brother Pietro’s garden was nice, but yours beats it. It’s very fragrant.”

“We were discussing who followed me out of the church that night, Sister. I assure you that I looked behind me at the gate and saw Brother Pietro.”

“He could have gone back, couldn’t he?”

“Of course. The gate swung back and forth because we were all returning at once. Is that the last time I looked back? That’s more complicated. I can’t remember if I did again. I guess I knew he was
following me because of his gait. It sounded like him.”

“I know you can’t see Brother Pietro’s front door,” said Brother Sa
lvatore. “But did you notice his lights on through your window?”

“
No. I try not to look. I would have expected him to give me the same courtesy.”

“So you didn’t see a light—just
the flash of the explosion. Nothing else?”

Brother Donato put his fingers to his forehead, trying to think. “I’m coming up the walk, trying to stay in prayer. I hear the footsteps. When it isn’t snowing, I always slip out of my sandals and leave them on the front mat. Did you see me do that tonight?”

“Yes, but you also turned around and looked at me when you opened the door.”

“I think I usually do that. In fact, I noticed Brother Pietro following me on several occasions. He usually had his head down, lost in his own prayers, I presume. Let me see. That night, I guess I did look back. I nodded. The figure that was coming toward me—”

“How far away was he?” asked Sister Angela.

“About seven or eight meters back. Not that far. The figure had his hood up, which
Brother Pietro didn’t usually have. His face was looking toward me, not down. His face was in the shadow of the hood. I nodded to him, and he dropped his head.”

“Did you think that was rude?”

“Yes. It was just like something Brother Pietro would do.”

“But it might not have been Brother Pietro,” said Brother Salvatore.

“No. He might have thought I actually saw him—that I couldn’t identify him. Oh my, Sister. It wasn’t Brother Pietro, was it?”

Sister Angela slid a piece of paper from her tote. I could only print this out in black and white at the monastery. It’s from a picture taken from the camera at the courtyard gate.” She handed it to the hermit. “What do you
see?”

Brother Donato stared at it. He dropped his voice. “
That isn’t Brother Pietro. The robe isn’t right. We all have a white piping sewn into the sleeve. Look, it makes a break in the sleeve down near the wrist. The picture is grainy, but I can’t see anything interrupt the line of the sleeve.”

Brother Salvatore immediately looked down at his
own sleeves. “Like mine?”

“Yes. If this was a real monk, he was from the monastery. Who’s that at the top of the path?”

“That’s you. As you can see, Brother Pietro isn’t the one behind you.”

“What about the frame before this picture?”

“It shows other hermits veering off on other paths. The camera can’t see the gate.”

“I guess I’ll need some sort of truth serum to identify the monk, Sister.”

Sister Angela smiled. “It might be safer if we spread word to the others that you couldn’t identify the monk, Brother. We have to catch this guy before he goes after another hermit.”

The group heard a rustle in the garden across the path. Worrying that someone was listening to their conversati
on, Sister Angela jumped up to look over the fence.

A woman
in a large hat carrying a hose waved at her. When the nun waved back the gardener gestured for her to come closer. The nun walked back through the cottage and out the front door.

“Sister, I think I have found something.”

“Mona, what are you doing?” Sister Angela asked.

“I have been caring for Brother Pietro’s garden. This is my lunch time so Mr. Neri doesn’t complain that I do it. I loved this garden
.”

“Did you visit Brother Pietro and care for it when he was here?”

“Oh no. I would have been fired. It’s just that the flowers started to die after the explosion. I have been coming here for the last week. I weed and water the plants. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Today I weeded this section here,” she said, pointing to the spot.

Sister Angela leaned closer and peeked over the top of the fence.

“I saw something in a crack in the fence. See? She pointed her gardening glove, the finger having a bent tip. The plaster is cracked here—only the crack is a lot bigger because my weed eliminator has a sharp point and the plaster crumbled.”

“Did you get the object out?”

Mona reached into her apron pocket a pulled out a piece of paper. “I can’t read it. It’s so faded.”

Sister Angela took it and opened it up. “I can’t read it either. I’ll make sure the detectives get this, Mona.”

“What is it?” asked Brother Salvatore.

“It’s a piece of paper with writing on it. I can’t read it in the sun. You and I can try to decipher the letters later.”

“He could have written the monk’s name down,” said Brother Salvatore.

“Or it could have been a hiding place that most of the hermits knew about. They might have been exchanging notes.”

Brother Salvatore tilted his head. “I think you’re making fun of me, Sister, aren’t you?”

Sister Angela smiled. “Come along, Brother Salvatore. We have to let Brother Donato get back to his prayers. Stay safe, Brother Donato. Let me know if you can think of anything else.”