“I’m not sure where that falls in the police procedure booklet, Sister,” said Morena. “But you can work undercover for us anytime.”
The group relaxed.
“Why don’t you tell them what happened at the falls today, Brother Salvatore?
“Brother Bruno told me he thought he had seen the note we wanted. We surmised that Gina had written a note to lure Brother Pietro down to the falls, but that was before we knew about the camera and before Sister Angela had eliminated Gina as a suspect. So when Brother Bruno said he would take me to the place where the note was, I believed him. But when we got to the falls, I suddenly had a feeling he might be trying to hide something. After all, he could have stolen the murder weapon, Brother Valente’s knife. So I told him to search on the other side of the tiny pond, and I scanned the area on the first side. I forgot what he said, but while he was looking for the note on his side, I reached into his bag and found the knife. Right when I finished, he asked me to toss him his bag. I did. Then I climbed to the top of the falls, and when he tried to follow me, I asked him if he was looking for the knife. I dropped it over the crest of the falls. He dove into the pond at the bottom and that gave me an opening to run. I figured he would find the knife and then come after me. I guess he just stayed there and kept looking for it because the police and Father Rafaello arrived while he was still there.”
“You did a great job, Brother Salvatore, but real detectives aren’t daredevils,” said Morena.
“I know. I didn’t go with him to catch him doing something. I kind of liked him and hoped he was telling me the truth.”
“In your defense,” said Sister Angela. “When you were coming down the side of the mountain, I definitely didn’t see a daredevil. Your instinct was to run, and that was the right one.”
“One last item,” said Brother Salvatore. “Why do you suppose Brother Bruno included the pipe bomb, or whatever it was? It wasn’t necessary. The cottage blew up before the firework even went off.”
“I wouldn’t be here if that thingamabob hadn’t gone off. I guess Brother Bruno knew the Church well enough. He figured they would send an expert who specialized in spiritual phenomena instead of murders. I also believe Father Sergio actually assumed that’s who he sent. Conveying that type of investigator to Santo Velo would delay any real examination of the scene and give the culprit time to get away.”
“But say you deemed it a real miracle,” said the monk. “Wouldn’t that have made him mad too? He would be seeing his nemesis, Russo, promoted again, this time on his way to sainthood.”
“You’re right. Brother Bruno would have lost either way.”
Sister Angela sipped on an orange fizzy as she watched the monks slowly wind down on their drinks. The monks needed a Thursday night in Avalle to prove the monastery had not changed.
“You don’t get drunk if you drink and then dance real hard,” said Brother Salvatore, moving his feet like he was going to run again.
Brother Alonzo didn’t move from his seat at the table. He just watched.
“Aren’t you going to dance, Brother Alonzo?” asked Sister Angela.
“No. I don’t dance.”
“Are you still angry about your knives? At least the diver found the one in the pond. I’m sorry the police took it with them. Maybe I can get Father Rafaello to buy you a new one.”
Brother Valente waltzed by the table. “Hey, Brother Alonzo, you laughed at me for loving my knife and now you’re moping around about yours.”
“It wasn’t even your knife, Brother. You fell in love with my knife. You didn’t even take care of it. You’ll never get that one back.”
“Now boys,” Sister Angela said. “This is supposed to be a fun night.”
“Who told you that?” asked Brother Alonzo. “Hey, Brother Salvatore, I see you’re miraculously cured of your injury. You can get up and make us breakfast tomorrow. The only one having fun is twinkle toes, still refusing to grow up.”
“Those toes came in handy yesterday,” said Sister Angela.
“Yeah, he’s practicing for the next escape.”
“Look at Brother Pascal. He’s not wearing his glasses because he’s afraid of breaking them. He seems to be enjoying himself. Is anyone drunk yet?”
“We’re just letting down,” said Brother Enrico, depositing the pretzels he stole from the bar on the table for everyone to enjoy. “I wish they’d give us some over here.”
“What about Father Rafaello’s knife?” asked Brother Alonzo, suddenly perking up. ”He didn’t give that to the police too, did he?”
“I don’t know,” said Sister Angela. ”We’ll have to ask him tomorrow. Oh my, that reminds me. Who makes breakfast on the Friday after the party here?”
“I set up the coffee with a headache. I don’t guarantee it will be the best coffee, but most of us don’t notice that. Nico delivers bread in the morning so we have breakfast, just not a fancy one.”
She looked at her watch. “It’s nearly midnight. Maybe you guys should switch to glasses of water soon so you won’t feel so bad on the ride home. What time am I supposed to drive you home?”
“Hey, guys,” said Brother Alonzo. “We have another hour. One more drink before we go. Sister Angela‘s afraid we’ll mess up the van. Let’s all show her how well-behaved we are.”
Sister Angela ordered another orange fizzy, but Brother Salvatore pulled her to her feet before she could take a sip. “Get up and dance with me,” he said. He jumped up and down while she moved her feet. Then he leapt out of the way and let another brother take his turn.
Sister Angela sat down as soon as she realized her dance partner was not one of the monks.
“Closing time,” announced the bartender. “Two minutes to closing time. Bring your dishes to the bar.”
The monks gulped down the rest of their final drinks while Brother Enrico pocketed the rest of the pretzels on the bar. Then she stuffed her brood into the van and sat herself in the driver’s seat. “No one in here is sick,” she said before starting the motor. “If so, please change places with the monk beside you so you have a window.”
The engine sputtered and died. There was silence. She turned the key again and the engine wound up until it roared. Everyone cheered. The nun stepped on the accelerator and slowly released the clutch. They would be home in twenty minutes. Father Rafaello would have stayed up in order to make sure they safely arrived and then close everything down.
Twenty Eight
The New Way of Being
Sister Angela went to bed, satisfied that her job was done. She gazed at her alarm clock beside her pillow. It had already started. Monte and Draco probably returned Brother Pietro’s body to the hermitage, and his brothers had already washed his body and rubbed it with herbs and perfumes. Then they would have replaced the habit in which he was found with a clean one and taken the body to the church where it would lie until morning.
He won’t be alone, thought Sister Angela, relieved that his mistakes had not influenced the way they delivered him to heaven. After all, he had dedicated his life to the Lord for twenty years, keeping his vows the entire time.
In the morning, Sister Angela would join with all the monks and most of Collinaterra to see him off. It would be solemn and joyful at the same time.
Sister Angela was up early, adrenalin masking her lack of sleep. The dining room was empty, save for a few who had to prepare for the celebration later in the day.
“Bassi is waiting for you, Sister,” said Brother Alonzo. “You’re included in the monks who are processing past the body before the church is opened to the public. Here are two coffees, one for you and one for Ignazio. There are a couple of rolls in the bag and a luncheon after the burial. The monks are trying not to eat too much now.”
The nun proceeded to the front portico and approached Bassi’s car. “Here you are, Ignazio. I’m told I have to hurry to make the processional.” The nun stopped to think. “But not too fast. I would hate to end up back down here because
we couldn’t keep the car on the road.”
“Don’t worry, Sister. We still have a few minutes to spare.”
“What are you going to do?”
“They will open the chapel door after your viewing so the townspeople can attend the service too. I’ll come in with them.”
The nun processed with the abbey monks who followed the hermits around the church, singing. The sound of both choirs together was heavenly. She marveled at how nice Brother Pietro looked and thought of Gina, who had not been able to view him yet. After circling the pews, they recessed out the door for another procession that would lead the villagers inside. The line of people circled the pews once more, slowing down in front of the body. Then the monks filled up the front pews of the church, hermits on one side and monks on the other. Sister Angela sat in the first pew behind the monks. The townspeople ambled in to the back pews, including nuns from a neighboring Benedictine abbey. Was Brother Salvatore’s sister here?
Brother Francisco carried the cross up the center aisle. The abbot brought up the rear. The two choirs, the monks and hermits, stood to sing. The sound in the chiesa was both beautiful and haunting.
After about twenty minutes of singing, the two groups began to repeat psalms, followed by more singing. The Eucharist followed that and the recession began. The morning air was moist, a fog clung to the treetops on the side of the mountain.
Sister Angela found Nico and Gina and guided them down an ally along the side of the kitchen building to a perimeter gate that opened onto a small cemetery. The monks and townspeople lined the walkway, waiting for the wooden casket, carried by six of the hermits, to pass them on their way to the field. A century earlier, bodies of hermits would be buried without a wooden box, but times had changed. At least they kept the box simple.
Everyone surrounded the gravesite as the casket was slowly lowered into the ground. Prayers were repeated and more hymns sung. Everyone present picked up a handful of dirt and threw it on the lid of the casket. Then the hermits removed their habits. They grabbed the shovels that lay beside the mound of dirt and began to fill the hole.
Tears streamed down Gina’s cheeks as Nico held her close.
Beyond the cemetery, a large tent was erected overnight. Nico kissed his wife and jogged toward it to join Brother Alonzo, Brother Pozza, and Brother Augeri at the food tables.
Brother Salvatore and Brother Enrico stood by set card tables. Brother Salvatore seated Gina and Sister Angela at one of the best tables. The abbot and Brother Francisco joined them after serving the two women lunch. When everyone was seated, the feast began. Meat, cooked on grills, salads, and pasta were available. For dessert, Nico served luscious pasties the nun hadn’t seen in his bakery. When everyone was served, they ate and talked.
“Tell me, Sister,” said Brother Francisco. “Did they ever find out how Brother Pietro left the eremo?”
“Before Lauds, he found a note in his cottage that Gina supposedly wrote, asking him to come talk with her at the waterfall. Brother Pietro attended the service as far as we can tell and left through the back perimeter gate. He circled the hermitage to the trailhead on the other side of the parking lot. Brother Bruno walked up to Brother Pietro’s cottage and set the timer to go off in twenty minutes, giving him plenty of time to leave the area. Then he, too, left through the back and continued to the waterfall where he stabbed Brother Pietro. He concealed his body under rocks—not a very effective way to hide it, I might add.”
“But how did they get through the gate without the doorman seeing him?”
“Brother Bruno, technical genius, rigged the camera to just shoot one scene the entire time. The doormen should have caught that. Either they weren’t very good at their jobs, or they were too lazy to see why no one ever went through that gate, even though the hermits all possessed keys.”
“And the note?”
“Somehow destroyed.
“I didn’t write it,” said Gina. “I was having problems with my grandfather. He was ill and needed me at Campofiore. I had heard about the explosion before I left but had no idea it was my father until days later.”
Morena and Loria pulled their chairs up to the table.
“Did you get a plate, Monte?” Sister Angela asked. “I’ll get Brother Salvatore to serve you too. There’s also beer and wine, unless you’re working. Then I strictly forbid it.”
“Yes,” said Loria. “We have to drive down the mountain and work the rest of the afternoon.”
“We just wanted to thank you for everything you did to help us, Sister Angela. Draco has a badge for you that you can use whenever you visit.”
“Thank you. I would love to work as a consultant any time you want me. I’m afraid you already have one, however. Brother Salvatore is ready to help you when you need it—with the permission of Father Rafaello, of course.” She nodded to the abbot.
“I would appreciate that,” the abbot said. “Brother Salvatore is very dear to us in the monastery, and we wouldn’t want to lose him.”
The nun signaled to Brother Salvatore to bring some food for the detectives, and he ran off to fill their plates.
Gina passed the bread around the table.
“This is wonderful, Gina. Did you make it or did Nico?”
“Nico won’t let me cook. Since I returned he has waited on me hand and foot. I’m certain it won’t last, but I’ll appreciate the rest while it does.”
“How do you think Brother Bruno found Brother Pietro?” Morena asked Sister Angela.
“He was here at least six months before he made his move, wasn’t he, Father?”
“Actually, Brother Bruno was a pretty good monk. He kept your computers up to date and answered all technical questions concerning the phone. Online records were kept safe for almost a year. We’ll have trouble replacing him.”
“At least you don’t depend on him, Father Rafaello,” said Sister Angela. “Santo Velo has survived for centuries with little or no technology.”
“Mr. Neri, sitting at the far table, might disagree. He runs this eremo like a tight ship.”
“Actually doing the jobs doesn’t need so much technology,” said the nun. “Brother Pozza and Brother Alonzo do very well communicating through Ignazio. Maybe they will need to hike up and down the hill a bit more, but they can handle most things.”
“Hopefully the telephone company will still help us,” said the abbot. “We do count on the telephone.”
“What about security?” asked Morena. “I know a startup out of Firenze that might be able to help you. You could hire locals as doormen. Perhaps you feel you don’t need them now.”
“Heavens, we have faith, Chief Detective, but in today’s world that might not be enough. God helps those who help themselves. I’m sure the eremiti would feel more comfortable if they knew someone was keeping an eye out for intruders—especially during tourist season.”
Nico approached and put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I think Gina might have an announcement for you at this table,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m not drinking wine or beer for a reason.
Nico stood and tapped his wine glass and waited for everyone to quiet down. “Gina and I are expecting our first child in advent.”
The nun could barely hide her excitement. “Brother Pietro would have been so pleased,” she said.
“My father was so sorry for all the problems he caused his family. But I’m here and I’m happy. I hope he knew that he didn’t destroy my life.”
Sister Angela rose early and ventured downstairs for breakfast. She served herself coffee as she did on the first morning there. How long ago it seemed to her now. How nervous she was that first morning eating breakfast with a room full of men, fearing she would make a faux pas and lose credibility. But she didn’t. The monks proved to be more curious than judgmental.
Seated at one of the breakfast tables, the monk next to her passed her the basket of rolls. There was only one left. It was up to her to get up and refill the b
asket from the serving table before passing it to the next monk. And she did. These were Nico’s rolls. She had already memorized the taste, the texture, the aroma when they were heated. She hoped there was something left on the table so she could wrap it up and take it with her to savor in the car.
“Sister Angela, can I help you bring your luggage down to the foyer?” asked Brother Pascal.
“Yes, let me go with you so we can do everything in one trip.”
The two mounted the stairs, and Sister Angela pushed open the door.
“That’s my case,” she said. “I went through the bedroom and bathroom several times already. I’ll carry the pile on the couch. I can’t believe how many little things one collects in only a few weeks.”
When they got to the bottom of the stairs, she was met by Father Rafaello, Brother Salvatore, and Ugo Belmonte, who took her bag to place in the trunk black BMW.
“It’s a good thing you’re making sure I leave. I was beginning to think this was my home. It gets harder to leave the longer I stay.”
The abbot took her hands. “Sister, it has been a pleasure. We would love you to stay, but Father Sergio has phoned us daily to remind us you are expected in Montriano. They must miss you indeed.”
“Yes, I suppose so. I miss them too.”
“We’re grateful for the help you have given us. Although a miracle would have been nice, it wouldn’t be a miracle if it happened all the time.”
“I received an email just this morning, Father. Brother Bruno has confessed. He said his goal was to murder Brother Pietro for the priest’s past sins, including his treatment of Ciana and Regina. I can’t help but believe that his firing at Busto Sistemi played a good part in that too.”
“He didn’t plan to blow up the eremita, then.”
“I think he did, but when he saw Gina with her father, he thought he might let the hermit know why he was dying—make him suffer a bit more. So he devised a plan to make the explosion look like some kind of ascension. It did get more attention, and it was taking a chance because a simple death by explosion could have been construed as an accident. Did Brother Bruno’s ego play a part? Probably. He seemed to be fighting for attention when he was fired by Russo. He approached Fabri himself and got another position closer to the family. He tried, though Gina seemed to minimize his advances to woo Regina Vicari when she was but seventeen and he was over forty. Most people would have moved on, but Brother Bruno, Rocco DePollo, tried to discredit Dante Russo the whole time.”
Il Pane Della Vita Page 22