Monday, March 8th
Rosary, Anna Venturi’s home and trattoria, 8:00 a.m.
Anna got up early, even if her trattoria was closed on Monday. She was a short, medium build woman in her late fifties with wavy brown hair, a small pointed nose, and grey eyes. She was a pleasant lady, always smiling.
After getting dressed, she had a quick breakfast in her tiny kitchen. The apartment above the trattoria had been her home since she had arrived in Canada. She looked around. The kitchen was tiny, but pristine and tidy. It opened into a fairly large sitting and dining room with a round table surrounded by four chairs at one end, and a sofa and two armchairs in the opposite corner. A little corridor led to three bedrooms and a bathroom. The apartment was large for her now, but she loved this place. She wouldn’t live anywhere else, and her grandchildren could stay overnight when their parents wanted to go out in the evening. The two bedrooms were always ready for them, with beautiful blankets on the beds and children’s books on the nightstands.
How many memories in this home! How many happy family times! How many Christmases! How many birthday celebrations! There were a lot of photos on top of the credenza in her sitting room! She sighed, but she reflected that she had so much to be thankful for... few people had so many good memories, few people had experienced so much love and affection!
She went down the stairs that led to the trattoria. A small vestibule had two doors on opposite sides: one was the door to the kitchen, and one was the door to the dining room. She went into the spacious kitchen, which she liked to call ‘Anna’s reign’. She was not surprised to see her daughter, sitting at a small desk in a corner, bent over an account book she was revising. Every Monday morning Silvia was at the trattoria after taking her children to school. She checked the accounts of the previous week, she made a list of the things they needed and ordered what was missing.
Silvia turned when she heard her mum enter, but she remained sitting at the desk. She was a pretty woman, with long soft blond hair and brown eyes. She had evidently taken after the handsome man who smiled from a framed picture on the wall, her father. Anna’s husband had died of a heart attack almost seventeen years before.
Next to Mario’s picture, a few days before, they had added the photo of a pleasant young man with a white collar typical of catholic priests and a cheerful smile that lightened his face. Two similar photos were hanging in the dining room next to the door.
Silvia looked worriedly at the strained face of her mother. She could see that her mum still had difficulty sleeping, but she knew Anna was a strong woman with a deep faith in God.
“Hi, mum, how are you?” Silvia asked solicitously, “are you sure you are ready to start your cooking lessons? We could have waited another week, you know!”
“Good morning, darling! Yes, I am sure! Having the children here will help me, I think! I can’t stand the long afternoon at home! Monday afternoon is so long, with the trattoria closed and so many remembrances...” Her voice trailed off because she saw her daughter’s eyes fill with tears. She bent over her, and, for a few moments, they got lost in a warm embrace. They didn’t need to speak. They missed Luca so much…
When Lieutenant John Steele had arrived that evening to break the terrible news, Anna’s first reaction had been disbelief. For many days she had unconsciously waited for her son to show up at the trattoria, as he had so often done, smiling and happy. He was a good priest and an affectionate son. He had taken from his mother, not only the grey eyes and the sweet smile, but also the ability to listen and comfort. Little by little, Anna and Silvia had grasped the terrible reality: they would never see Luca again, they would never hear his deep calm voice and his joyful laughter, they would never listen to his sermon in church… Anna knew in her heart that she wouldn't
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get over this loss completely, but she was doing her best to go on with her life, to smile in front of her grandchildren, to comfort her daughter, to show her community that their solidarity had helped her.
She had decided to resume her cooking lessons for children. A few months before, Anna had started to teach traditional Italian recipes to children, but the activity had been abruptly interrupted when her son had died.
“Mum”, Silvia released herself from her mother’s arms and looked into her eyes. “A few days ago, Jennifer told me her husband doesn’t believe that what happened to Luca was simply an accident! But you know that, don’t you?” There was a slight note of rebuke in her voice. Anna nodded, and Silvia added: “But she told me you asked the police not to investigate!” She stopped for a few seconds and then went on, in an anguished voice: “Why, mum? You know Luca was always careful behind the wheel, you know there must have been something that frightened him or ...” She didn’t finish the sentence, because the other option meant that someone wanted to harm her brother, and she really couldn’t think of a person who could have hurt Luca deliberately.
Anna looked at her daughter and answered in a calm voice: “Silvia, we both know that nobody wanted to hurt Luca, and...” She stopped, and she instinctively turned towards the pictures on the wall above them. “It is so difficult to accept what happened. I couldn’t stand to learn that someone was behind all this. John told me it is just a hunch, there is absolutely nothing that proves that there was another car on the road when he crashed into the tree... He was not used to driving in the dark... Maybe he got distracted, I don’t know, but I could never think that someone did this to my son. No, Silvia, I am sure it was an accident, he just lost control of his car!” Silvia understood that there was no way of convincing her mother to change her mind, and she reflected that no investigation could bring her brother back to them.
Silvia’s cell phone rang, and she picked it up from the desk. She looked at the caller ID and smiled. She put the phone to her ear and said: “Hello, Mark! Are you ok?”
Since Luca’s death, Mark had called every day from the bank where he worked to check on his wife and his mother-in-law. She listened, and she answered: “Yes, mum is here... Yes, we are alright. Will you pick up the children from school after work? Remember to take them here for the cooking lesson... Ok, thanks, have a nice day! ... I love you, too!”
Anna and Silvia got busy with their tasks and Anna went to clean the dining room, which was big, but, at the same time, cozy and decorated with taste and simplicity. There were more or less twelve round tables, some with four chairs, others with six chairs, and a few with eight chairs around them. In the corners, there were a few smaller tables for couples. The tablecloths were impeccably ironed and perfectly spotless, in pastel colors, light yellow or light green, and the napkins matched the tablecloths.
After checking that everything was in order, Anna went back to the kitchen to prepare the ingredients and the utensils for the recipe she intended to teach today.
Mother and daughter were preparing to leave for some shopping, when someone knocked on the door of the trattoria. Through the frosted glass door, they saw the familiar figure of Father George, the Parish priest, who often came after the morning mass to have a coffee with Anna. Since Luca’s death, he had not dared to come, out of respect for the family’s grief. Today, however, he had evidently decided to stop by. 9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9pWCu3C2Tf
Anna opened immediately, and the priest said timidly:9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDNWsf2SOFl
“Oh, you were going out! I don’t want to disturb you!” 9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuJ4nYKwVYW
He turned to the door, but Silvia stopped him. “George, please, come in! We were going to do some shopping but we could use a nice cup of espresso, couldn’t we, mum?”9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt2SEijDFuq
Anna nodded and, after a few moments, came back from the kitchen with three cups of espresso, rigorously prepared with the traditional Moka! In their spacious kitchen, they had an array of Mokas in different sizes on a shelf, from the one-cup to the tall twelve-cup.
They sat at one of the round tables, and Father George looked at the two women who had suffered so much in the past weeks. He was a rotund man in his early sixties, with round glasses that framed serene dark eyes, and he had a perpetual smile on his face. He radiated joy and confidence. When Anna had arrived in Canada, he was a young priest, and they had immediately become friends: he had instantly liked the loyal, sincere and caring personality of the young Italian woman, and he had seen her children grow up. Luca had always loved him and considered him his guide and his role model.
They drank their coffee silently, then Father George said kindly: “You know you can always come to talk to me, Anna, don’t you?” Anna nodded. This was Father George’s timid way of offering his comfort.
Anna put her hand delicately on Father George’s arm and said calmly but firmly:
“I know, George, that you keep tormenting yourself. Luca was happy about his choice of becoming a priest, and he always told me that you were the best guide he could ever wish for. It is useless to think of what might have happened if he had not become a clergyman.”
Father George sighed and tried to smile. Luca’s death was really difficult to accept for him as well. In a moment of doubt, he had even told Anna that he felt guilty for having convinced Luca to become a priest, because maybe he would still be alive if he had chosen a different path. George didn’t know why the young man had gone out that evening, but he was sure that only someone in need would have forced him to leave his home after dinner.
Silvia, Anna and George chatted for a few minutes about the events of the Parish, then George took his leave, and the two women left the trattoria for their shopping.
***
Rosary police station, 8:30 a.m.
Lieutenant John Steele, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and dark eyes, always trusted his first impression on the people he met because he had seldom failed in his judgment. He had heard so much about the tough police officer who had been recently given a medal for his courage. He was eager to meet him in person.
When he arrived at the police station, there were a few agents there. The only one he had already met was an agent called Steve Ganderson, the computer technician, who had arrived the previous week to check on all the equipment at their disposal. John approached the little group and noticed that Neil McKinley had not arrived yet. He saw that the agents evidently knew each other, because they were chatting pleasantly. While he was inviting the police officers to enter the building, a car arrived in the parking lot, and they all stopped and turned. A handsome tall man got out of the car and smiled at the people waiting for him. John noticed he walked with an almost imperceptible limp. He had heard he had been wounded in a gunfight, and he had also heard something about his difficult past. His first impression, the impression he trusted so much, was of a sad person, certainly tough and strong, but not devoid of sweetness and kindness. John liked him immediately.
Neil shook hands with John and said hello to the other agents, who already knew him.
They entered the police station and John said briefly:
“On the ground floor we have two interrogation rooms and a small conference room.” He pointed at the corridor on their left. “On the first floor there is the investigative section of the police station. It is ready for you.” While he was talking, they went to a secured door at the end of the corridor. John entered a code, and they heard a click. He opened the door that led to a staircase. They climbed to the first floor, and they arrived in a large open space with four desks, each one equipped with a modern PC. At the far end of the room, there was a large touch screen monitor connected to all the computers, where they could project the results of their investigations.
John resumed:
“This is your room. As you can see,” he pointed at a small cubicle surrounded by glass walls and a glass door, “we have reserved a small office for the Inspector.” He smiled sheepishly at Neil and added: “I know it is really tiny, but you can use it if you need to talk privately with someone.” Neil nodded, and he looked around.
John showed a door next to the big monitor and said:
“That is a kitchen, equipped with a kettle, a percolator, a microwave oven, some plates and kitchenware. There is a table and some chairs.” Next to the kitchen, they took a look at the toilets.
“That is a deposit of weapons and a dressing room with bulletproof vests, two-way radios and other useful things.” He indicated a locked room. He dialed a code, and the agents could see all the equipment at their disposal. They went back to the main room. Each of them sat at a desk while Neil and John remained standing. From the way the agents spoke to each other and interacted, John could understand that they had a strong friendship. Neil smiled and said:
“Good morning, guys. Thanks, John, for showing us the police station. Now we will get to know each other. We are all going to work together, and I usually like to use first names, if you don’t mind.”
This was a thing that pleased John immediately because he had always been averse to the use of surnames among colleagues.
Neil went on: “I am Neil. Vancouver is my hometown. Until a few months ago, I was part of the special team, but then I got injured and had to quit, at least until my leg recovers completely. In the ERT I was a sniper, helicopter pilot, parachutist, and hostage rescue specialist. The Commissioner called me a few weeks ago. He asked me to become Chief Inspector here, and, at the same time, to call some agents who can help me train the recruits in the training center not far from here...” He looked around with a satisfied smile before going on: “I arrived only a few days ago, but I must say that I like this little town on the coast, so different from the chaos of the big city where I grew up.” John and the agents were watching him. Steele couldn’t help noticing that the police officers looked at Neil with evident admiration. He could understand now why he had heard so much about this special agent, a tough sniper who talked with a calm and deep voice and seemed reserved. He didn’t boast about his success and his career.
Neil resumed: “It’s your turn, guys, to introduce yourselves.”
The officers stood up and approached Neil and John. The agent John Steele had already seen the previous week took a step forward and said simply: “My name is Steve Ganderson, I am from Winnipeg, I worked in Vancouver but now I have been working for a year in Toronto. I have a girlfriend, Gina, who lives in Moncton, so I had one more reason to accept Neil’s offer.” He winked jokingly at John and Neil and added: “I am a computer expert. I see that the government has not spared money on equipment.” He looked around with a satisfied expression. Steve was tall, with blond hair and brown eyes. He had a light goatee and a small tattoo was visible on his right arm.
The tall police officer near him spoke next. “My name is Bob Mallon. I am from Ottawa. Six years ago, I joined the Emergency Response Team in Vancouver as a special police officer, following Neil’s orders. Apart from being a sniper, I am also an expert on explosives.”
He smiled at his superior. “I immediately agreed to come here because I like the idea of training recruits, and I appreciate Neil’s way of conducting investigations and how he respects all his agents, no matter how young and inexperienced they are!”
He was a tall young man, with dark skin, black curly hair, dark eyes, and a charming smile. Neil accepted the words of appreciation of his agent with visible embarrassment, but he smiled and waited for the other officers to speak.
A short and slim policeman, who had never smiled up to that moment, cleared his throat, as if he would have preferred not to be obliged to talk. He had dark crew cut hair and dark eyes. He had a hard face, and, on his cheek, there was a deep scar. John’s first impression was that of a cold man, but he thought McKinley had chosen this policeman for some reasons, and he reserved his judgment until he could get to know him better. The officer said only: “My name is Billy Nigel, I am from Vancouver, and I was trained by Neil to become a sniper. I have been for four years in the Emergency Response Team, and I am an expert in modern and sophisticated weapons. I am at the disposal of the recruit center and of this police station.”
The last one to take the word was certainly the oldest of the group, and John thought he seemed a kind man. He was of medium height and medium build, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. John noticed he had a wedding ring on his left ring finger.
“My name is David Johnson. I have known Neil for a long time.” He exchanged a smile with McKinley and resumed: “Neil and I went to the police academy together in Vancouver. I didn’t become a member of the Emergency Response Team, however. I am an expert on legal matters and investigation procedures.” His face brightened when he talked about his family: “I have a wife, who still lives in Vancouver. I hope she will be able to join me after the end of the school year, since she is a school teacher.”
John thought that now it was his turn to introduce himself: “My name is John Steele,” he started with a smile, “I was born in Fredericton, but I have been the Lieutenant here in Rosary for fifteen years now. I am married to Jennifer, and we have two children, Lisa, who is eighteen now and studies at college, and Alan, who is 9 years old. My wife works as a waitress in an Italian trattoria here in Rosary.” He looked around at the attentive faces of the agents, and he added in a light tone: “If you want to eat good food and to enjoy a relaxed family atmosphere, try Anna’s Trattoria. It is on the sea promenade...”
Neil smiled and replied immediately: “That’s a good idea, John! Why don’t we go there to eat one of these days? Just to get to know each other better...”
John said immediately: “On Monday the trattoria is closed but I will call my wife and reserve a table for lunch tomorrow, if it’s ok for you!”
Everyone agreed. John showed them the code he had entered to open the door at the foot of the stairs. He provided them with a few general instructions. At the entrance, he introduced Neil to the receptionist and to the few agents at the police station. Certain of the support from his new colleagues, he resumed his job. He was sure that Neil would prove a trustworthy superior.
***
Rosary, Anna’s Trattoria , 4:30 p.m.
Anna welcomed her little aspiring chefs with a warm smile. When she had started her lessons, she had just four children, including her two grandchildren, but when she had interrupted after Luca’s death, the group was much larger. There were eight boys and girls aged approximately from eight to twelve, and she was starting to think of creating another group for older boys and girls, because the requests were constantly increasing.
When the children entered, they were visibly embarrassed. They evidently didn’t know how to behave or what to say. They had been told what had happened to Luca, and they were all sad because they loved the young priest, always kind, always smiling. Among them were Mario and Giulia, Anna’s grandchildren, who had tears in their eyes. Jennifer nudged Alan, who led the little group with a beautiful vase of colorful flowers for Anna. He approached her and gave her the vase without saying a word, but she knew that this was a sign of sympathy for her immense grief. She smiled and said: “Thank you, children. Come in, everything is ready for you!” Silvia was behind her, and she had difficulty keeping her emotions in check.
The children walked into the spacious kitchen and put on their aprons. Then they sat down and waited for Anna to speak. They all instinctively looked up at the photo that had been added on the wall and that seemed to smile at them.
Before cooking, the children always listened to the story behind the recipe. Anna cherished that moment and the way the children in front of her were interested in her tales.
She started: “Children, as you know, we have entered the period of Lent that prepares for Easter. During Lent, sweets and sugary things are usually avoided for penance, but in Italy, in almost every region, there is a cookie or a cake that can be eaten during the period of Lent.”
She approached the map of Italy which was pinned on a little ledger, and pointed with a short stick to a spot on the Mediterranean coast in the Northwest: “The cookies we are going to bake today come from the town of Genoa, in Liguria. A nun, tired of renouncing sweets during Lent, invented this biscuit that doesn’t contain butter, and, for this reason, was accepted by the other nuns. Her recipe was so successful that they still make these cookies every year.”
Anna was great at capturing the attention of the children. Eight pairs of eyes watched her intently as she spoke, and no one dared to interrupt.
“Genoa,” Anna went on, “is a big town in the north of Italy, and it is famous for its harbor. Many cruise and cargo ships come and go from this port, and on the harbor front there is one of the largest aquariums in Europe...”
A small child called Kevin asked:
“Are you from Genoa, Anna?”
“No, darling. I come from a little town near Venice…” She pointed at the famous town on the map.
She looked at the children with a smile and added: “Now, let’s prepare to cook.”
The children turned their attention to the small cooking station Silvia and Anna had prepared for each one around the large square table. Anna described the ingredients: “For this recipe, we need almond flour,” As she spoke, she showed the little glass bowls containing the ingredients, “sugar and egg whites. This is what we need for the cookies. Then we are going to decorate them with apricot jam, granulated sugar, and chocolate chips. We have prepared some cookie cutters in various shapes. You can choose the shape you like, or you can use different shapes. It’s up to you. And you can also decide what to use for the decorations. Now let’s start, and... Have a good time, children!”
The children worked with great attention. Anna, Jennifer and Silvia helped each of them with the dough, the rolling pin and the decorations. When the biscuits were on the large baking trays, the three women put them into the ovens, because the children could not use them.
While they were waiting for the cookies to bake, the children cleaned their cooking stations, and Anna went to the dining room to talk to the parents or relatives, who were sitting at the tables, with a plate, a glass and a small bottle of water in front of them. They all greeted her with affection. They didn’t talk about her son, but Anna was aware of their sympathy.
An elderly woman sat at one of the tables. She had silver curly hair and a pleasant face. She was in her seventies. Despite her frail and sad appearance, she possessed the dignified and elegant bearing of a wealthy woman, accustomed to attending official meetings and events. Her neck was adorned with a beautiful necklace, and she was wearing gold earrings. On her fingers, she had expensive rings. She smiled when she saw Anna, and she waited for her to come to the table where she was sitting.
“Good afternoon, Stacey!” Anna said affectionately when she went to sit at the lady’s table. Stacey Lewis was a regular customer of her trattoria. She used to go there often with her husband, who owned a famous notary firm in Rosary, and, since she had become a widow, she had kept eating almost every Sunday at the trattoria because she loved talking to Anna. In the last months, however, she had been frequently sick, and Anna had not seen her after Luca’s funeral. “I am glad to see you today. Are you better?”
Stacey looked at her sadly and sighed. “Today I am better. I don’t know what is wrong with me. Sometimes I just can’t get out of bed. I had a check-up last week, but there seems to be nothing wrong. My doctor is a little worried because he doesn’t understand... Oh, maybe it’s just that I am getting old, Anna!” She smiled and took the other lady’s hand, “but … how are you? I am so sorry, I wanted to call you but sometimes I really seem not to have the strength ...” She noticed the tears that were coming to Anna’s eyes, and she squeezed her hand tighter. “Anna, I can only imagine what you are going through. Luca was a wonderful young man. Oh, sometimes life is just unfair!” Anna smiled at her and said: “Father George says that we must accept God’s design, but this time it is really difficult. Really!” She added with a lump in her throat.
Then she turned to Stacey and asked: “How is Robin? He is such a sad little boy. Today he seldom smiled while he was cooking ...”
Stacey sighed: “Robin is a lonely little boy. His mum has gone to live in St. John with a new partner, and she never remembers the weekends she should stay with him. His father never has time for him. The only person who sometimes spends time with the child is Barbara, my son’s second wife, but she is not his mum. I think he has not grown fond of her yet. I have tried to talk to Nolan and Dana. They keep on promising to dedicate some time to their son, but then ... Anna, he is so sensitive, I don’t know what to do because I see he is suffering.”
Anna smiled: “He is very fond of you. I think you are the person he loves most!”
“Yes, Anna, and I adore him, but I am old and I won’t be here forever for him. He needs a father and a mother who really care...” Her voice trailed off because the children were coming out of the kitchen, accompanied by Jennifer and Silvia. The little chefs were beaming with satisfaction at their creations. Each of them carried a tray, and they placed it on the tables where their relatives were waiting. It was funny to hear them try to repeat Anna’s description and story. Robin Lewis came immediately to the table where Anna and his grandmother were sitting. He placed the tray with the cookies gently on the table, and he embraced his grandmother with affection. “How are you, grandma?” His serious and concerned expression made him look much older than his nine years. Anna left them and went from table to table to see if everything was alright. The adults seemed to appreciate the cookies, and they remained for some time, eating and chatting pleasantly. Mark, Silvia’s husband, was sitting next to John Steele, and they were talking and laughing with Alan and the twins. Anna looked around, wondering what she would do if she didn’t have this little community to support and encourage her.
Finally, Silvia and Jennifer packed the left cookies in small paper trays. Each boy or girl took one small packet to bring home.
Stacey stood up slowly, and Robin took her hand. Anna watched them leave and get into the car where the chauffeur, Tony, was waiting to drive them home. When Anna thought of Stacey, she couldn’t help reflecting that money didn’t really give happiness. Stacey had always had anything she needed, or she wanted, but she was a sad, lonely woman with two greedy children. Anna had worked all her life, but she had a beautiful, affectionate family.
***
8:30 p.m.
“Hello!”
“Are you taking care of it?”
“You know I am doing everything I can, but it takes time.” No answer. “And I have already told you that you mustn’t call me here. Someone may hear. Are you sure you didn’t leave anything?”
“Yes, I am positive. Remember that we are both involved. If one of us goes down, he drags the other with him! Don’t back out!”
“I don’t intend to back out, but things have got more complicated!”
“Now we must go on as we had planned, ok?”
“Ok, ok! I’ll let you know how things are going! Give me a few more days... It shouldn’t take long!”
The phone call was disconnected without another word.
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