Free Il Pane Della Vita by Coralie Hughes Jensen Page B

job, Sister. I have a hu sband and two teenage sons. It isn’t easy to feed a family these days. My husband doesn’t make enough.”
    Brother Salvatore brought coffee to the two women and sat down, ready to take notes.
    “Where do you live, Mrs. Giunta.”
    “In Avalle.”
    “And you have cleaned for all the hermits at one time or another, I suppose.”
    “Yes, but there are always new ones.”
    “Have you cleaned Brother Pietro’s cell?”
    “I don’t know the eremiti by name.”
    “The one who’s cell blew up.”
    “I have cleaned that cell several times. I don’t know who lived there, but I have been to that cottage.”
    “I believe Brother Pietro has been there since before you began working for the eremo, Mrs. Giunta. What did you do when you cleaned?”
    “That particular cell? I’m not sure. I usually clean sheets, floors, and bathrooms.”
    “But not all brothers are the same. Sometimes they leave clothing on the floor instead of in the cleaning hampers. Sometimes they leave food on a table instead of returning all the dishes to the pass-through for pickup by the kitchen. Some of them have guests and therefore request extra cleaning. Did Brother Pietro have guests?”
    “I wouldn’ t reveal their private habits to anyone, Sister. I would be let go.”
    “I don’ t want details about all the brothers’ habits, Mrs. Giunta. I need help with the habits of a particular brother—one who is assumed to be dead.”
    “He was normal.”
    “How was he normal? Was his cell always clean?”
    Mona squirmed and then stood up. “He was unusually neat. His bed was always made. I unmade it to change the sheets.”
    “Did you notice when he had guests?”
    “He didn’t ask for any special help. I suppose he requested things from the kitchen when he was going to have a guest. I do know of one occasion where there was wine that had been spilled on the carpet.”
    “Of his sitting room, his bedroom. Where was it?”
    “In his sitting room. I had to clean it up.”
    “He asked you to clean it up?”
    “No, he was at a service in the church when I arrived. I just cleaned it up.”
    “When was this?”
    “A few weeks ago.”
    “Is t hat the first time you noticed something different in his cottage?”
    “Yes, I mean, no.”
    “Go on.”
    Mona hesitated, turning to look out of the window to the courtyard. “ When I clean the bathroom, I check his hair brushes to see if I have to clean them too. Several months ago, I found his brush had been used by someone else.”
    “Go on. How could you tell?”
    “There was dark hair tangled in the bristles. It was long hair.”
    “It could not have been Brother Pietro’s?”
    “Brother Pietro had a short gray beard. Otherwise, he was bald.”
    “I suppose you cleaned everything so we can’t look at it no w,” the nun said out loud. “Can you be more specific on the date?”
    “Only that it was cool that day in winter .”
    “Anything else?”
    “No.”
    “Then you can go b ack to work. I promised I wouldn’t keep you long.”
    Mona headed for the door and put her hand on the knob. “Sister?”
    “Yes. Do you remember something?”
    “The incident with the wine…”
    “Yes.”
    “The wine was on more than the carpet. The drapes…”
    “There was wine on the drapes?”
    “Yes. They came back from the cleaners the week of the explosion. I don’t know why the cleaners kept them so long. He entered when I was trying to hang them, and he helped me. I liked him. Please find out who did this.”
    After she shut the door behind her, Brother Salvatore said, “We should go after the one who threw the wine at him.”
    “There’s a big gulf between spilled wine and murder. It’s curious, however, that the visitor showed so much passion during a visit with a hermit.

    “ How do you do, Ms. Barone? How long have you worked here at the hermitage?” asked Sister Angela.
    “ My name is Alicia Barone. I have worked here two years. Before that I was at