Il Pane Della Vita (33 page)

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Authors: Coralie Hughes Jensen

BOOK: Il Pane Della Vita
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As instructed, Sister Angela pushed open the door to a large office with a desk in the center. A man sat behind the desk.

“I’m Sister Angela,” she told him.

“Please take a seat. Mr. Sabatini has someone in his office. I hope you can wait a bit.”

“Yes, he said he might be busy until six.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sabatini opened the door and personally asked Sister Angela to join him in his office. “Please sit on the settee and have some coffee. I’ll sit down right here beside you so we can talk about the problem that has arisen in light of Mr. Russo’s death.”

The nun looked directly into the executive’s gray eyes. “So you know about the explosion at the hermitage near Avalle.”

“Yes, I do follow the news.”

“But the news didn’t release the name of the victim.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Word did go around about the monk’s name. There was a lot of interest in Mr. Russo after he left here. At first, Lauro made it known among senior staff that his pick had failed. Others let us know that Russo had had an affair with Lauro’s daughter, and she got into trouble. Russo was such a strange man.”

“I knew neither the man
nor the hermit, Mr. Sabatini. Of course, I’ve heard the story about his downfall. The sad part is that the man’s problems rippled through a whole family. Tell me. Who told you he was at Santo Velo?”

Sabatini poured her a
cup of coffee. “I suppose the church forgives those who use it. I believe it was Fabri’s granddaughter. I would have forgotten, but she told me she found her father when she returned to take care of Fabri less than two weeks ago.”

“Russo had access to several confessors. If he recognized his sins, I’m sure he asked for forgiveness. He and his daught
er were close at the end. That’s a sign of forgiveness on both sides.”

“But Lauro’s daughter was not so lucky, I think.”

“No. That’s the tragedy. I feel like she never received forgiveness. God rest Mr. Fabri’s soul. He punished her twice, didn’t he?”

The two fell quiet as she sipped her coffee.

“In my capacity as a detective, I have to ask you to do me a favor. I can tell you a secret if you can let me have some information that will close the books on the case.”

“I am at your service, Sister. What do you need to know?”

“I would like to know what you can find out about a Rocco DePollo. I need his background. When and how long was he here? Why did he leave? Was he fired and, if so, by whom.”

“I would have to approach the personnel department, Sister. It
may take an hour or up to two days. I don’t know. Is there a way I can send that information to you?”

“Did you know him?”

“No, but I knew of him.”

“Did you know Dante Russo?”

“Yes. I worked with him in engineering. He was promoted before me.”

“From what I’
ve heard, you were all vying for the job. Is that true?”

Sabatini sat back to think. “Many of us were. I was older than Russo and had worked at Busto Sistemi for a year longer. I certainly though
t I would move up. I still do not know why Lauro picked him. I remember Ciana. She was always around us when we interviewed for the promotion. I say that because we interviewees put our heads together after we were eliminated. We all noticed Ciana. She was a beauty, with long auburn hair. We concluded she made the pick. After all, she and Russo eventually became a couple.”

“Then you must be relieved that you did not get the job. What if you had, and Ciana had enticed you. Could you have resisted?”

Sabatini laughed. He poured her another coffee and passed her some cookies. “You are saying that it is just a tragedy.”

“A tragedy that Fabri must have taken to his grave. He disowned a daughter that, if your conclusions are correct, influenced his choice. Then when she came back
, abandoned with a small child, he essentially sold her to a friend who tried to abuse the child. She returned to her father’s home only to die young.”

“The story makes industrialists like us dese
rve being referred to as ruthless. Can I hate Lauro? No. He promoted me and look where I am now.”

“But you can select
your own road, Mr. Sabatini. You can choose the right path and come out with an altogether different story. Are you married?”

“Yes, and I have two sons.” He looked at his watch. “And I will be late for dinner if I do
not start home.” He stood up. “May I drop you off somewhere?”

“I need to get to the termini before the trains stop.”

“Let us go then,” he said, grabbing his briefcase. “I live in that direction so it will be no trouble. I shall get on with the investigation first thing in the morning and will email you. It sounds exciting.”

Sister Angela
caught the seven-thirty high speed train to Florence. Commuters mulled around, talking into cell phones, or with earphones, listening to music.

She sat down in a seat near the door and thought about what was said. It certai
nly was a tragedy. Poor Ciana. She really tried to make it on her own. Why did she not look for another job instead of following Russo to Salvi? All too often, women make mistakes and end up with a child without a father. What made this story different? Ciana seemed to make the same mistake over and over. First she hoped her husband, who left her to become a priest, still loved her. When he moved on for good, she didn’t try to use her recommendation to get another job. Instead she chose to go home. Did she hope her father would treat Regina differently? She let him get an annulment for the marriage and did not run away when he essentially sold her to Vicari. What was she thinking?
I guess she was broken when she was disowned the first time
. Did she only think of her daughter from then on? Sister Angela took out a tissue and discreetly wiped the corners of her eyes.

What about Russo?
How guilty was he? The fact that he chose to marry Ciana and deserted his family when they had no means of support showed culpability. Was he so surprised when Fabri got rid of him? How hard did he try to make Ciana see that their marriage would destroy all of them? How holy is a man who leaves his family to vow celibacy so he can make more money but then fails to care for them? Sister Angela squirmed. That was none of her business. Was becoming a monk his form of remorse? Possibly.

The train stopped, and she had just en
ough time to make it to the local train to Avalle, several tracks over. She put her red-stripped bag on the rack above and sat down in a comfortable seat facing another couple. She nodded to them.

Before leaving the station, Sister Angela got out her phone and called Bassi, who was just finishing his dinner. “Oh, Ignazio, I’m so glad I got you. I’ll be arriving in Avalle in ab
out ninety minutes. Will you be able to pick me up?”

“Of course, Sister. I hope your trip was successful.”

“Yes, very. I only need a bit more. The chief of Busto Sistemi Enterprises promised to send me information tomorrow. I can’t wait to get together with Brother Salvatore to put the pieces of the puzzle together. See you in Avalle.

Sister Angela
smiled to herself. Gina was the strong one. She did what she wanted. Why did Fabri treat her differently? Because he knew she would not flinch if he threatened to disown her? She was prepared. She finished her degree and promised to marry someone who would work hard. The young woman was raised in the same splendor that her mother was, but Gina did not need it. Did she have her father’s genes? No, she was stronger than her father. Was it the new generation that made middle class more palatable? Perhaps.

Twenty Five
Unplanned Investigation

Exhausted, Sister Angela headed to the dining room to see if there was anything left for dinner. Brother Salvatore was still covering the tables.

“Thank goodness you’re back, Sister. We’ve discovered something concerning the camera.”

“Perhaps it would be better if we headed for the library. I too discovered quite a bit. Now we have to see if we can stitch it all together so that it makes sense.”

“Did you eat? I know there’s soup left. I’ll heat it up and bring it to you there.

When they were settled in the library, Sister Angela told Brother Salvatore the story of Brother Pietro’s life.”

“You were right. The visitor was his daughter. Is she coming back?”

“Yes, she has a few business dealings to handle. Then she plans to return and be with Nico. That’s one less lost soul in that family.”

“Still, the fact that Brother Pietro
was married when he was ordained is troubling. I didn’t think that sort of thing happened anymore.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Sister Angela. “Secrets were everywhere twenty to thirty years ago. When bishops keep secrets…”

“That has become more difficult,” said Brother Salvatore. “Technology would have caught him today. You had to rely on an old man with a fading memory.”

“I think Bishop Emeritus
Trombetta remembered his indiscretion. I made both he and his housekeeper edgy. They thought they were important enough to make big decisions. As long as he didn’t set the example, no one else down the line felt they could report Father Teo’s transgressions. Hopefully technology and guidance will make everyone think twice before breaking their vows. You said you found something?” she asked, her fatigue dwindling with every sip of soup.

“Monte and I took a police technician up the hill to PEur’s security system. Evidently so
meone rigged the camera on the back perimeter gate. The doormen were watching a still snapshot of the forest. It’s funny. When you questioned the doormen, they didn’t go around and check the cameras again. They should be fired.”

“That’s ground
s for breaking our contract with PEur. If the abbey needs the security, and evidently it does, then a more reputable security company should be found.” The nun took another sip of her soup. “So we have answered the question about how people went in and out of the hermitage without our seeing them. But we still don’t know why Brother Pietro went to the waterfall so late at night.”

“Or if
there was one stranger or two. Remember the man in the monk disguise was on the path just before the explosion, and Brother Pietro had not yet hiked up to his cottage. We can conclude that our visiting monk didn’t escort him down with force.”

“Correct. We have a problem there, and since we don’t have film telling us if Brother Pietro trekked down on his own…” She stopped to think fo
r a second. “We should have video showing Brother Pietro on one of the other paths, walking to the gate. Was he alone then?”

Brother Salvatore’s shoulders sank. “We have to go over all the other
video again?”

“Can you think of another way?”

“Let’s assume he got a note from someone, telling him to be at the waterfall. He wouldn’t go willingly, would he?”


Wait a minute, Brother. There’s a small possibility that might be the case. Why would he comply with the note? Who would be trust?”

“Maybe it was about his secrets. Maybe he was being blackmailed.”

“Do you think he would descend the hill in the middle of the night to face a blackmailer? He would have to possess more courage than I do,” said Sister Angela. “And a reputable person would not blackmail him in the first place. Who would you do that for? Imagine that you got a note from someone, asking you to come to the waterfall at midnight. I assume you wouldn’t do it for just anyone.”

“No.
I would probably rather sleep. Nothing could pull me away from my bed. Well, maybe the abbot could. I’d think he was in trouble.”


What about your mother?”

“Yes. Or my sister.”

“I think you just thought of someone who might have sent that note.”


Did Gina send the note?”

“Or someone else sent the note, and Brother Pietro assumed it was his daughter
’s handwriting. In that case, he could have descended the hill by himself. The disguised monk could have followed him, knowing Brother Pietro would be at the waterfall, waiting for Gina to appear.”

“I think you solved it, Sister Angela.”


We
solved it. You actually figured out who might write him. We can tell Monte and Draco first thing tomorrow morning.”

Sister Angela retired to her room and took a hot shower. Then she sat d
own in front of her laptop, hoping Sabatini had managed to send her the information about his former employee, Rocco DePollo. There were no new emails. Deciding she should add the tidbits Brother Salvatore told her to her notes, she looked up her files. The file was missing. Figuring she was tired, she started the process again, this time peeking inside the other folders. Again, she couldn’t find anything. Nearly panicking, she phoned downstairs, hoping either Brother Pascal or the abbot was not napping before Compline.

“Hello, this is Brother Pascal.

“This is Sister Angela. I’m so glad I caught you,”

“I was just about to go to my cell. What can I do for you?”

“Has anyone been in my room?”

“Today? No one has asked for the keycard, Sister. Was your door locked when you got back?”

“Yes. Perhaps it’s my laptop. Maybe it’s gone crazy. It’s important that I see my file on the hard drive, but I can’t pull it up.”

“Not to worry. I believe Brother Bruno is
in Brother Enrico’s room playing cards. Shall I ask him to come up?”

“Yes, please.”

Sister Angela donned her robe, and five minutes later, she heard the knock on the door. “Good evening, Brother Bruno. I’m in trouble if I can’t find one of my files. Perhaps you can retrieve it for me.”

“Let me just look at a few things here,” Brother Bruno said, kneeling in front of the screen. “You’re right. It isn’t among your files. Let me just check a few other places.”

“I appreciate your help.”

“No, I don’t see it. You must have deleted it by accident.”

“But it’s still on the drive, isn’t it? I thought they stayed forever. All I did was to get on to look at the email I’m expecting from a company in Roma. It should be coming any time. How could I have deleted it?” She looked into his golden-brown eyes and saw sympathy.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find it
,” he said, standing up. “What you put on the Internet stays around forever. That must be what you heard.”

“I’m really too exhausted to worry about it. Thank you so much for trying to help me.
Luckily I have my red-striped bag here with my handwritten notes in it. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted this new-fangled contraption to do the job.”

As soon as he was gone, she looked at her watch. It was too late for Busto Sistemi to send her the i
nformation now. She needed rest and was in a deep sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

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