Twenty One
Of the Earth
Sister Angela asked Bassi to pass the turn off for the monastery and take her to the small grocery store in Collinaterra. “I have a few items to pick up, if you don’t mind.” Grabbing a basket at the entry, she headed for the shelf that offered shampoos and soaps.
“Hello, Sister,” said a voice. The woman pushed a cart full of items in front of her. A toddler sat in the seat, trying to pull boxes from the shelves around him.
“Ah, yes, Renata, isn’t it? What a cute little boy,” Sister Angela said, pinching his fat cheek.
“If you’re busy, I can approach you later. I saw a picture of the pattern for a knife on Brother Pascal’s desk. I shouldn’t have snooped, but I couldn’t help myself.”
“It’s not snooping if you recognized the picture,” said Sister Angela.
“Yes. I saw a knife like that in Brother Valente’s studio.”
“I didn’t know Brother Valente had a studio. Where is it?”
“It’s in one of the outbuildings at Santo Velo. The structure is on the northwest corner of the property.”
“Why would he have a knife?”
“He cuts the clay with it. He’s a potter. He makes earthenware that he sells to people in the surrounding villages. I don’t want to see him get into trouble, but I did see it.”
“Was it there when you last cleaned his studio?”
“I don’t think I noticed it then. I clean his studio bi-weekly. I might have noticed it about a month ago.”
The toddler began to fidget and whimper.”
“Thank you, Renata, for that information. I’ll follow up on it. It might be safer for you to keep quiet about what you saw. I wouldn’t want to spook the murderer.”
Renata looked alarmed. “I hope you don’t think Brother Valente is a murderer.”
“I don’t think he’s guilty. But one among you might be, and if he hears that you’re helping us…”
At dinner, Sister Angela asked Brother Salvatore if he knew Brother Valente.
“Yes, I know him pretty well. He’s the potter with a studio on the other side of the drive.”
The nun turned her head from side to side, wondering who might be listening. “I’m interested in earthenware,” she said. “I would love to meet him.”
“I don’t see him here.”
“Is he tall or short?”
Brother Salvatore smiled. “Taller than I am, but not like Brother Pietro. How about we stroll over there after breakfast tomorrow?”
“Sounds good to me.”
That night, a windy storm tracked across the valley, hitting the monastery on the valley side. Sister Angela listened to the whistle of the strong gales through tiny fissures around the window frame while she read a mystery novel Brother Salvatore had offered her. The crack of a tree branch suddenly shook her. She turned off her light and sank into her pillow, trying not to think of solving the whodunit up the hill or the one on paper.
The dream came, but it would not be what the nun expected or wanted. It was dark, and the nun did not know where she was. She followed a path down the mountain when she heard someone coming. Ducking behind a bush, Sister Angela tried to hold her breath, but her seemingly loud pants got louder the harder she tried to hold them in.
The footsteps belonged to a tall monk. His long gait overtook the bush in seconds. He was concentrating and not listening for hideaways along the way.
He doesn’t look scared, noted Sister Angela. It’s like he’s taking a walk on a sunny afternoon. I’ll have to follow him.
But the hermit had disappeared into the trees.
The waterfall must be around here, but I don’t know where I should turn off. She wandered around for what seemed like an hour but never saw the monk again. Instead her thoughts drifted to finding her way back to Santo Velo. She could follow the downward slope, but what if she missed Santo Velo on the way down? Where would she end up?
The nun sat straight up in her bed and soon realized she was already at Santo Velo. That’s odd, she said to herself. Could Brother Pietro have left the hermitage on his own? If so, which door did he take and why head to the waterfall? Who was he going to meet? Who did he trust to meet in the forest in the middle of the night?
She must have somehow gone back to sleep because when she opened her eyes again, light streamed in from the window above her head. It was going to be another glorious day.
Grabbing coffee at the breakfast table, Sister Angela and Brother Salvatore walked out the back door and followed the drive to a little two-room building on the corner of the property.
“Hello, Brother Valente?” called Sister Angela upon entering the room.
“I’m in here. I have something coming out of the kiln. Give me a minute.”
The nun and Brother Salvatore sauntered around the room, looking at the artwork.
“This is beautiful,” she said. “I wonder if he gives lessons. I would love to do work like this.”
“It’s my understanding, Sister, that you already possess two vocations. Maybe the bishop would let you do it if you move to a monastery like this one. The Cistercians have a monastery in Cortona, and the Benedictines have one for nuns right outside Firenza.”
Sister Angela turned to Brother Salvatore. “Where on earth did you learn about monasteries for women?”
“Because I have a sister in one of them. I helped her find a place She’s in Cortona.”
“I didn’t know that. It was nice of you to guide her.”
Brother Valente suddenly interrupted them. “Hello, you must be the famous detective. Welcome to my studio.”
“You make beautiful things, Brother. I was telling Brother Salvatore that I would love to learn something I could do with my hands. I’ll bet it’s harder to do than you make it look.”
“It does take years of effort, and even now I make mistakes. I had to clean up a bit of a mess in the other room. I miscalculated and made a bowl wall too thin. I didn’t achieve what I had in mind.”
The nun slipped a picture of the knife across the table, and Brother Valente suddenly smiled. “You found my knife. Do you have it? I tend to get attached to my tools. I can do without people, but not my implements.”
“So you don’t have it now.”
“No. It disappeared a few weeks ago. I was devastated. I searched the kitchen drawers for another filleting knife, but alas, I couldn’t find any.”
“I think Brother Alonzo is now locking up his knives.”
“Ah, yes. Thou shalt not steal. I’ll have to confess it now that I think of it. I guess I’ll have to charm Brother Alonzo into showing me what he has—unless you return my old friend to me.”
Brother Salvatore rounded one of the tables but suddenly stopped. “What’s this? New software? Cool. Is that the bowl that shattered in the kiln? It’s beautiful.”
Brother Valente walked over to the computer and turned the monitor to face Sister Angela. “Yes. That was my current baby. Why do children have to have minds of their own?”
“Look, Sister. He sees his work in three-dimensions. That must make it a whole lot easier to create.”
“It makes it easier to visualize, yes.”
“How did you get this software? It must have been expensive.”
“Is it? I’m not a computer guru. Brother Bruno said he had some special software for what I do. He came in and installed it for me. Is the abbot stuck with the bill? I hope not. I’m already attached.”
“When did Brother Bruno come in here to work on it?” asked Sister Angela.”
“I would say it was a week or so ago. He came in when I was at dinner and introduced us afterward.”
“And the knife went missing after his visit?”
“I don’t know,” said Brother Valente. “I didn’t miss it right away. I only used it to cut the clay. What would Brother Bruno want with a filleting knife?”
“He was right,” said Sister Angela, walking across the drive. “Brother Bruno has no m
otive. Anyone could have come into the studio and taken the knife.”
“There’s nothing to tie Brother Bruno to the murder. I can’t even imagine him as the monk who followed Brother Donato up the path. There might have been two monks.”
“And how did the monk inside the perimeter fence get out? How did Brother Pietro get out? Was Brother Pietro alive when he left? If not, how would one person carry the body down?” There are lots of questions, Brother Salvatore. Hang on. It’s getting exciting.”
Sister Angela took Brother Salvatore to the library. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a library?”
“Give me a monastery that doesn’t have one,” said Brother Salvatore. “Did you think I bought my mysteries at the bookstore? If I did that, there would be no money left over for our once-a-month Thursday nights in Avalle.”
“Sit down on the couch across from me. We have to talk about what information we have.”
Brother Salvatore sat down and took out a pad of paper. “Okay. We have that monk that isn’t an eremita. We don’t know where he went or how he got out of there but we realized that he must have because there was no body found in the explosion.”
“Very good. We have a woman visitor who visited Brother Pietro regularly. She has been identified as a niece, but we know nothing else about her, except that she was involved in an event that spread red wine all over the floor and on his curtains. That’s a sign of passion, and passion only comes if there is an intimate connection between the two.”
“We have a potter with a missing fileting knife, the murder weapon,” said Brother Salvatore. “He claims it must have been stolen, but the only person he knows who was in the studio was the computer guru, Brother Bruno.”
“Does Brother Valente keep the studio locked?” asked Sister Angela.
“We have no locks here, Sister, except for the VIP rooms. You have a keycard for one of those. Otherwise we do not lock doors—unless Brother Valente had an anxiety attack. Then he would have had to install the locks himself.” Brother Salvatore looked up from his notes. “I’ll check.”
“And we have a security system that’s gone awry,” said the nun. “Somehow two people got out of the perimeter fence and hermitage without being seen. We don’t have the help of either of the two doormen or the president of PEur because it isn’t in their interest to reveal that an error in their system that defeats the whole purpose of that system. It’s a must that we figure that one out.”
“Is that it? I think we’re close, Sister. Let’s just concentrate on the fact we have only four questions we have to answer. I’ll take the one about Brother Valente locking his door. I’ll do that when he’s at dinner. If not, the whole of Santo Velo is implicated.”
“What about the security gate? Maybe you can get with Monte tomorrow and see what he thinks about it. I would prefer that you not try approaching the doormen by yourself, even if you are able to figure it out in bed tonight. Promise me that. A good detective has to be smart enough to stay out of harm’s way. I think you’re so intelligent that you’ll be able to convince Monte you see a clue that could reveal how the crime came about.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have a feeling our murderer has left the area. I’m going to find out where our perpetrator went and follow to see if I can get an interview.”
Sister Angela sat down to lunch.
Brother Alonzo himself served her soup. “I heard you found our filleting knife. Who stole it?”
“I trust you won’t punish the perpetrator, Brother. I would let the police take care of that. It was Brother Valente, and he didn’t steal it. He adopted it.”
“Ah yes. Brother Valente has a collection of tools he’s adopted. I should have guessed.”
“Do you suspect him of more nefarious crimes?”
“I’ve never even seen him pay any attention to people,” said Brother Alonzo, grinding a bit of pepper into her soup. “I suppose, however, that if someone stole one of his implements, he might feel a need to save it. Who knows what a man like that might do to the suspected kidnapper?”
Sister Angela had just finished her soup and served herself a cup of espresso when she heard the fuss. She craned her neck to see a small group just coming into the sala from the outdoor corridor. It was the abbot with Brother Pascal. They were approaching her.
“Good afternoon, Sister,” said the abbot. “We have a guest who would like to meet with you in my office. Please bring your coffee and follow us.”
He was there in the office. Of course he would be. Sister Angela had hoped the bishop had reined him in, but Father Sergio always managed to follow his own agenda.
“Good afternoon, Father,” she said, taking his hand when he stood.
“How do you do, Sister? You look fit. Perhaps the rest has done you well.”
“Yes, the atmosphere is wonderful up here among the trees. And the food; Brother Alonzo is such a good chef. Perhaps we could hire him at the scuola media.”
The abbot sat down behind his desk and waited for Father Sergio’s questions.
Twenty Two
On the Offense
“I am surprised you have not solved the crime yet, Sister. In fact, I have not heard from you at all.”
“Yes, Father, the last instructions I got were from the bishop. Perhaps I should have followed my gut and kept you informed, but I wasn’t sure you were interested in an actual crime.”
“I assigned you to the task of finding out what happened to Brother Pietro, Sister. Of course I was interested. Even though the crime looks like a murder, it is not a mundane one because it involved an eremita who, having devoted his life to Christ, is a special child in our eyes.”
“Yes, well…”
“And uncovering muck about one of our children is a sensitive subject in this diocese, Sister.”
“I call them facts. It’s difficult to find out who the murderer was when I don’t know who the victim was.”
“And to manhandle a bishop emeritus is quite unseemly.”
“I asked him gently what he knew of Father Teo. That’s all. Had I known that Bishop Emeritus Trombetta was ill, I would have been more circumspect. Asking him about the past flustered him because he couldn’t remember his past. It would have benefitted me to have information about the bishop emeritus from my diocese before I interviewed him.”
Father Sergio’s lips disappeared when he tried to smile.
The chief detective knocked and then walked in.
“Chief Detective Monte Morena, may I introduce Father Sergio, assistant to the bishop in Montriano?” said Sister Angela.
Father Sergio stood to shake his hand. “I come here today, Chief Detective Morena, because Sister Angela has suggested she is needed on this murder investigation. Someone called the bishop and intimated that she was crucial to the investigation even after it was ascertained that it was indeed a murder case.”
“That was me,” said the abbot.
“I am certain, chief detective, that you and your deputies are perfectly capable of solving a murder case without her, are you not?”
Morena nodded. He looked serious. “To tell you the truth, Sister Angela’s skills are essential to the investigation. My deputy and I talk to the eremiti. But because we aren’t privy to their customs or how they live their lives, we can’t follow up on the clues as easily. Perhaps you heard that Sister Angela discovered the body and weapon.”
“Brother Salvatore actually…” Sister Angela began.
“We wouldn’t have checked this resting place on the hill because we wouldn’t have known it existed. I don’t believe the brothers would have spoken in such intimate terms to anyone without a profound knowledge of the monastic life.”
“But her vocation calls, Chief Detective. She cannot leave her job at the scuola media. It is not fair to those who have to take on her students while she is out gallivanting.”
Brother Salvatore walked in without knocking. Seeing no chair, he sat on the floor and leaned aga
inst the wall by the door.
“Father Sergio, this is Brother Salvatore, a gifted detective who has pulled me out of many jams here,” said the abbot.
“And to train someone else who was intended to be a monk in your monastery, Father Abbot, is criminal. Each and every one of your monks has a job to do. If you lose one to a vocation, you must train someone else. It puts everything out of kilter.”
“I have heard no complaints about my helping Sister Angela solve a murder that took one of our most beloved brothers, Father Sergio,” said Brother Salvatore. “Everyone here sits on the edge of his seat, worrying that the murderer will kill again.”
Sister Angela turned away from Father Sergio to roll her eyes.
“Actually, most of the brothers here agree that Brother Salvatore can handle his work as a chef in training and help Morena with cases involving local monasteries,” said the abbot. “He’s very promising. As for determining the vocations of the brothers at Santo Velo and the eremo above, I believe that is my job.” Father Rafaello stood. “I also think we’ve taken the chief detective away from his work in Avalle. Perhaps Sister Angela, you, and Avalle’s two detectives can meet in the dining room to exchange clues and make your time here useful. Father Sergio, I’m so glad to meet you,” he said continuing out the door. “If your bishop continues to have trouble with our arrangement perhaps you can have him call me. Brother Salvatore, will you get a cup of espresso for Father Sergio before helping him find his way to his car?”
The abbot watched Brother Salvatore take him out the door in the direction of the sala.
The nun met him in front of the monastery.
“Hello, Ignazio. I’m so glad you’re free to pick me up.”
“Do you need to see the eremita today?” he asked.
“No, I need a ride into Collinaterra. It’s not far but too far for me to walk today, even in my sneakers.”
When they arrived at the power company, she sat forward and tapped Bassi on the shoulder. “Can you find something to do for a half hour?”
Il Pane Della Vita Page 17