“And what happened to you and your mother?”
“We stayed in Salvi for a few more months, hoping the bishop would see that he had made an error. The new priest tried to help her, but out of money, she retreated to Grandfather’s estate, begging forgiveness. Before she knew it, Grandfather had procured an annulment from the Catholic Church for her and told her he would again disown the both of us unless she married a man his age, his good friend, Martinus Vicari. I was five and according to my mother, he had plans to send me off to boarding school as soon as we were settled. The marriage last only a few months. My mother caught him performing ‘unspeakable acts’ on me, and she got me out of there. With little clothing, we walked the ten kilometers back to my grandfather’s house. He was shocked to see us, but when my mother fainted in the front hall, he relented. My mother was in and out of hospitals and sanitariums for several more years, but she never regained her strength. She died away from home when I was fourteen. I only heard about it after the quick burial Grandfather had organized.”
“Oh, Gina. You must have been angry with both your father and grandfather.”
Gina leaned forward to vomit the words. “Yes, yes, I hated them both! I took the name Vicari because I loathed to two men closest to me.”
“But Martinus Vicari committed horrible crimes too, Gina.”
“I know, but Papa and Grandfather allowed it to happen.”
“And then you met Nico. Do you still love him or are you running from him too?”
Gina wiped the tears from her face with the handkerchief Sister Angela handed her. Then she took another sip from her glass. “Yes, I love Nico. He’s so gentle. I told Papà about him, and as expected, Nico wasn’t good enough for me.”
“Did your grandfather try to stop your marriage to Nico too?”
“Yes. At first he told me he would disown me too. He said he had a friend he would give this house and money to. But that was another lie. I told him I didn’t care. I promised I would graduate from university, but beyond that, my life was my own. He could see that I would renounce his money just like my mother did. Then I reminded him of the evil he had wrought on my parents. He told me that Ciana failed because she loved a man who couldn’t take orders. I said, ‘Whose orders? You took away any means they had to make money. You made sure Papà couldn’t work and pay for a family and that my mother could not get funds either.’ Then he said, ‘How can you think that? Your father left both you and your mother to starve. He wanted to follow God. He took away my daughter just to leave her.’ Then I announced that Nico and I were going to marry and that he could do as he liked with his evil money.”
“I’m so sorry, Gina.”
“Well, as you can see, he mellowed. I have both the big house and the money. I think it would be nice to make some good out of it, don’t you? My mother would have approved. I’m positive of that.”
“About those visits with Brother Pietro…”
Gina put her hand on the nun’s arm to stop her. “When I saw him for the first time, though we know it wasn’t really the first time, I was still angry. I don’t know how Nico saw through all that hate. I had planned to hurt my father, yes. I held so much back that first day. I was looking for words he used that proved my point, and when he talked about Mother, he said a few. I don’t remember them now, but I got angry and threw a glass of red wine at him. He ducked, and the wine went all over his room. I ran out crying, but he let me come back. Nico told me that I was wrong to do that unless I didn’t want to have a relationship with him. I did, so I went back. My conversations with him were the best talks I ever had with someone who was considered family. I began to love him and wanted to create the bond that was missing most of my life.”
“Let’s go back to the night of the explosion. You told Nico that you were with friends. Can you tell me who they were?”
“I was drinking a lot at that time. I went to a bar in Avalle and met some acquaintances there. When I drank too much, one of them took me home and let me sleep it off. I returned to the bakery in the morning. I didn’t drink because of Nico. I drank because Papà managed to bring my past to the forefront. He wanted to pray with me. But I didn’t believe. I thought praying was a waste of time. I didn’t realize that it was a waste of time because I refused to ask God for help. I needed time to heal. Papà was helping me, and then he wasn’t there to help me anymore.”
“For the record, do you have a name?”
She handed a list of friends to the nun.
“I’m glad you have an alibi. I didn’t think you were ready for prison. Did you ever notice anyone else that you recognized when you were sitting in the garden with your father?”
“Yes. I had forgotten about that. Papà had gone inside to fill my water glass. Suddenly a monk walked by, heading for the courtyard gate. I swear he tripped when he saw me so he stared right at me, and I saw his eyes. It was Rocco, Rocco DePollo.”
“What about his eyes caught your attention?”
“They were mint green with little yellow flecks. I had never seen such beautiful eyes. He worked at my grandfather’s company. I didn’t know what position it was, but my grandfather sent him places. When he was back in Campofiore, he would hang around the house. I was seventeen when I found him sitting at the fountain in our garden. He was probably twenty years my senior at the time, but he didn’t look that old with his sandy hair and long blond lashes, framing those amazing eyes. He didn’t make any pass at me. My grandfather would have killed him if he did, but I dreamt about him. I was so in love, I secretly followed him for a whole season. And then after a few years, he left. I don’t know if Grandfather fired him or what, but I forgot all about him until that day in the garden.”
“Did you tell your father who you saw?”
“Yes. I told him I thought I saw Rocco. Of course, I’m not sure he knew who Rocco was. Rocco came to Busto Sistemi when my father was there, but I’m not sure he recalled him.”
The nun finished her limoncello and stood. “What are you going to do with this beautiful house?”
“It’s mine, you know. He left me everything except the company. I know a group of monks that would like to do religious retreats using a place like this. I might give it to them. I haven’t decided. Grandfather also gave me a sum of money. Nico and I will probably use that on a business venture of some sort—or will put it away for our children.”
“I hope you plan to be home soon. I know he misses you.”
“Can I do anything else for you, Sister Angela?”
“Yes, will you call the current president of Busto Sistemi and get me an interview? I have a few questions for the company.”
Twenty Four
The Center of All Evil
Though the sun still hung in the western sky, it would soon sink behind the hills. Maurio Sabatini, newly appointed chief executive officer of Busto Sistemi Enterprises, had explained to Gina that he would be busy until five-thirty or six o’clock. He would be willing to meet with the detective at that time. The nun took a train into Rome soon after Gina’s call. She wanted to take the metro from the termini and visit the Vatican Gardens before making the short hop from there to the electronics conglomerate.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the squares of lawn. Walkways around the grass were lined with lemon trees. Tall stone walls divided the squares. Sister Angela sat on a bench along one of the walkways and inhaled the sweet fruity air.
What would she ask him? Gina had finally revealed a name, but Sister Angela still did not know who this Rocco was. Was he a monk, or did he wear the costume to confuse everyone? Who with green eyes had she seen at the monastery? Did he still use that name or was he hiding from the police in general?
She inhaled again to clear her mind. She would rather think of the beauty of the setting. Was the Pope in? Would she run into him if she went inside? Of course not. But what a story that would make. She smiled to herself, now more relaxed.
After an hour, she wandered into St. Peter’s
Square, still teaming with visitors and then got in line to see the Sistine Chapel. The company was just off the next metro stop so she still had plenty of time to be a tourist. The line was slow as it meandered up flights of stairs and through ancient artifacts. She studied the Etruscan columns in one room and commented to those around her on the Etruscan Museum in Montriano. Forty-five minutes passed, but Sister Angela did not tire of gazing at the scenes around her. And then she was there. An attendant gestured for her to enter, and she was mesmerized by the splendor. No one around her was too tall because they all looked straight up and turned to view the paintings until they were too dizzy to continue.
When she was finished, St. Peter’s Square was transformed. Deep shadows ripped through the delicate spokes that led to the obelisk, brutally transformed by its silhouette. She shaded her eyes to see the papal balcony on the front of the Basilica. It was empty, of course. What would she do if she met him?
I’m talkative, she thought, but in front of someone I admire, I get all tongue-tied. Better to try to avoid him—unless he needs me to help him on a case, of course. I wouldn’t turn him down.
After breakfast, Brother Salvatore walked over to the potter’s studio. Brother Valente and Brother Bruno sat over the computer discussing an image of a pitcher the potter was trying to make.
“Hello, Brother Salvatore,” Brother Valente said. What can I do for you?”
“I thought it might be fun to watch you work on that new software. Do you mind?”
“I’m just finishing up. Perhaps you would like to try it yourself.” Brother Valente rose and retreated to the room with the kiln.
Brother Bruno gestured for Brother Salvatore to sit down. “I have just a few adjustments. Then I’ll show you what to do.” Brother Bruno tapped away on the keyboard. “You know what? This software is boring. I also installed games on this. We could do that as soon as I’m done with Brother Valente’s problem.”
Brother Salvatore sat up. “You have games on that thing? That’s something we don’t get to do every day since we aren’t supposed to have computers. Are you sure Father Rafaello doesn’t mind?”
“It’s just a game, Brother. We have games in the rec room. We have a foosball table in there. There’s no difference between playing on a machine and doing it on the computer. We can play cards on here and other games that we can’t play without the computer. Father Rafaello told me I can’t let you guys see the Internet or mail on the computers. Brother Valente can’t access those. He doesn’t mind if we play games, though.”
The afternoon passed as the two monks played game after game on the computer. The two giggled and fought as each won a number of them.
Brother Valente left and returned without either of them seeming to notice him. “Don’t you two have work to do? Lunch is nearly over. Aren’t you supposed to be serving, Brother Salvatore?”
The young monk grimaced. “I didn’t notice the time. Let’s run and get lunch. Then I’ll have to stay and clean up. This was fun, though. We’ll have to do it again.”
The two monks rose and walked over to the sala. Instead of sitting down with Brother Bruno, Brother Salvatore immediately helped to remove tablecloths from the empty tables. Hoping Brother Alonzo did not notice his absence, he decided to make sure the sala was ready for the dinner crowd before going to his room to rest. He would check the doors to the potter’s studio when Brother Valente was at dinner. That way he would have something to report to Sister Angela when she returned.
At four-thirty Sister Angela trekked to the metro and got off at the next stop. She was not nervous. She was determined to find out how this company was involved in the death of a hermit. The edifice was formidable; glass windows formed the façade around the entry. Were they watching her?
Sister Angela stopped at a bench in front of the building and changed shoes. Then brushing the front of her habit, she walked into the lobby. She immediately looked up, her eyes following the stairs that coiled around the inner walls until she could see a dome of stained glass several stories above.
“Can I help you?” asked a very feminine voice. The crash of water, cascading over the top of a fountain just in front of the nun, drew her attention away.
Sister Angela glanced around her. A young woman stood behind a desk at the foot of the stairs and waved. The nun approached, smiling.
“I thought I heard something. Such a beautiful lobby,” the nun said. “I could sit for hours in front of that fountain and meditate.”
“The lobby closes at six-thirty, I’m afraid.”
“Yes, and I have work to do. I would like to speak with Maurio Sabatini.”
The receptionist was almost speechless. “Mr. Sabatini is very busy,” she said. “Perhaps you should call and make an appointment.”
“I have an appointment. Ms. Regina Vicari called ahead. Mr. Sabatini said he would see me at five-thirty. I’m a few minutes early, but it looks like it may take me more than a few minutes to climb those stairs.”
The receptionist phoned ahead, and the nun turned to watch the fountain while she waited. “You can take an elevator if you wish. I always do. The elevator is just across the lobby behind the second column.”
“You’re so sweet. I’d love to have your job, watching people go in and out as they admire this lobby.”
“When you get to the tenth floor, turn right. His office is on that corner. Open the door. His secretary will tell him you’re here.”
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 daughter 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 t
he 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 thought 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 deserve 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?”
Il Pane Della Vita Page 19