Chianti Classico (26 page)

Petrini stumbled forward and took them, all the time staring at Silvio.

“This is Silvio, the young man with the motorbike,” she said, hesitating.

“Vroom, vroom
.
”

“I saw your tractor in the barn,” said Silvio. “How old is that? Surely someone might want to pay you for it.” Silvio walked over to the barn door and admired it.

Sister Angela and Petrini followed.

Silvio saw the objects first. He turned to the nun and pointed at the back corner.

“What are those?” she asked the farmer.

“Baby,” he said.

Silvio stepped over the pile in front and lifted a car seat out of the smaller pile. Under it was a faded bag. Silvio picked it up by the straps and held it high so Sister Angela could see it.

“I didn’t know you had a child, Signor,” she said, feeling her heart beat hard against her chest wall.

“No, those for the convent.”

The nun smiled. “But they don’t have a baby, do they?”

“Gone,” he whispered.

“You gave the baby to the nuns,” she said, holding out a hand to help Silvio and the evidence navigate the way out of the piles.

“Baby cried.”

“Where was her mother?”

“Sleeping.”

The nun looked at him. His eyes filled with tears.

“How did you know there’d been an accident?”

“
Bang Bang
. I run.”

“How many cars were involved?”

“He held up a single finger.
Bang!
Tree.”

“So you took the baby and left it with the nuns.”

“Play games. Grow food. She love me.”

“No one else has asked you about that day? Did any detectives or other strangers come here to inquire about the accident?”

“No. Mamma not move. Sleeping.”

“Thank you, Signor Petrini. You’ve been most helpful,” she said taking the diaper bag from Silvio and beginning to walk back up the drive.

The farmer didn’t leave the spot. He watched the two leave with the baby’s items. When they got to the arch in the bushes, Silvio turned to make sure the farmer was okay. Petrini set aside the rake, gave a slight wave of his free hand, and then turned toward his front door.

Silvio spun around and ran to catch up with the nun. “What do you think we should do?”

“I believe you should take the evidence to your uncle.”

“What does this prove?” asked Silvio.

“It tells us who delivered Pia to the nuns.”

“But Uncle Estes is going to say that it’s irrelevant because it doesn’t solve the case.”

The nun stopped in her tracks at the end of the drive. “It verifies that Pia was in the car where her mother drove off the road and was killed. We’ve determined that there was another vehicle involved and that second vehicle hit her car. Now we have to identify the mother to see if she came from the same place as the murder victim. If Pia’s alive, she’s probably there.”

Silvio tripped, and the nun waited for him to catch up. “I don’t see the connection between Pia and the murder victim. Why did this Nocera guy need to take the child home?”

“Why would he take the child at all? If we find where he came from and identify his connections—his friends, business partners, who he owes money to—then we might get a clue of where Pia has been taken. You don’t solve cases by jumping to the final clue. Mysteries take you on an intricate path of discoveries that together, hopefully, leads to the reason for and cause of a crime.”

Sister Angela and Silvio finally arrived at the convent both thirsty and tired. Silvio strapped the items from Petrini’s barn onto the back of his bike.

The nun took his canteen and filled it with cool water. “Tell Detective Sergeant Turo what I told you. Sister Tiberia and I will head to Rufina first thing in the morning. Your uncle must call the police there so they’ll be available to assist us.”

The two nuns were silent as the big 1985 silver Buick Riviera bumped over the ruts of the E78 carriageway.

“I can’t believe this car has survived drives like these,” said Sister Angela.

“I don’t take out my baby often. That helps. The mileage in the nearly twenty-five years I’ve had it is still less than two hundred kilometers.”

“Why didn’t I see this car at the convent before?”

“My mechanic hates me to take her out. He thinks she belongs in a museum and keeps her at his garage for safekeeping.”

“How did you get it? Did someone donate it?”

“It’s mine. Dino wanted a new car, the one we rode in last time, so he gave me his old one. The Buick was already used when
he
bought it.”

The car rattled as they hit another bump.

“This road’s a travesty,” said Sister Angela. “I read they planned to bring this carriageway up to European standards long ago, but they didn’t finish it. We have four lanes of crumbling surface and have to drive like snails.”

“We’re almost there,” said Sister Tiberia. “My baby will make it there and back. I think I’ll still be driving her when Dino’s car is disassembled for parts. This Buick’s a gem.”

The steep valley walls were revealed as the car crested the hill. Sister Tiberia pulled over so Sister Angela could better consult her map for directions.

“Are you sure you don’t want to drive into Corsa Pietra first?” asked Sister Tiberia. “If someone at this vineyard’s behind the murder and kidnapping, he might be dangerous.”

“I don’t want to destroy the reputation of this up-and-coming vineyard if everyone there’s innocent.” Sister Angela paused. “At least I want to make sure we get a taste of their Chianti first.”

Sister Tiberia parked the Buick along the edge of the driveway and stepped out of the car.

“It looks busy,” said Sister Angela.

“There’s a table in the corner of the patio. Let’s see if we can get that one.”

A young woman with sweeping auburn hair wriggled between the tables and chairs, crammed close together on the patio. Men reached out to paw at her long bare legs.

“How can I help you?”

Sister Angela quickly glanced at the badge pinned just below her low-cut blouse. “We’d like to taste your wine, Donata.” said the nun. “Do we need to order something first?”

“No,” Donata said, swiping at the hand resting on her backside.

The guilty customer guffawed.

“But we have some tasty sandwiches that would go well with the Chianti. There’s also a prosciutto and melon salad.”

“I’ll take one of those with a taste of your Chianti,” said Sister Angela.

Sister Tiberia nodded eagerly.

“Make that two,” said Sister Angela. “By the way, my friend and I have been here before. It’s been a few years since we made the trip.” She tucked her napkin through the loop that held her rosary beads so it wouldn’t blow away. “I’d say it’s four or five years since we’ve been here. Isn’t that right Sister?”

Sister Tiberia smiled and nodded again.

“Donata,” Sister Angela continued, taking hold of the waitress’s hand. “My friend and I promised to meet up with a young woman who used to work here. This young woman had long sandy hair and was roughly your age at the time.”

Donata’s face paled. She started to step back, but Sister Angela still held onto her hand, admiring the large diamond on her finger. The gentleman at the next table continued to take liberties with Donata’s backside, and she sighed. “I’ve been here about four years. There was a waitress before that, but I’m not sure I really met her.”

“You have a lovely ring. Your husband must love you very much.”

Donata glanced toward the winery office and warehouse but quickly turned and pushed through the chairs and tables blocking her route to the tasting room.

Sister Tiberia giggled. “Bravo,” she said. “I wish you’d let her go sooner, however, because I’d have a glass of wine by now with which to toast your performance. Did you see those heels? They must be at least four or five inches. Even my legs would look good in those.”

“As much as I’d like to partake of my wine and salad, I’m afraid I’ll have to further explore the premises. I wonder if there’s a ladies room around here.” She handed her red cell phone to Sister Tiberia. “If I don’t return in ten minutes, call the police in Corsa Pietra.”

Sister Tiberia stared at the contraption in front of her. “I’ve never used one of these before.”

“Dial 1-1-2 and tell them to come immediately to the Amarena Balda Vineyard outside of Corsa Pietra,” said Sister Angela. She hesitated. “Tell them I choking.”

Leaving her tote, Sister Angela navigated her way past the tables. No hands dared to reach out for
her
backside. When she got to the asphalt drive she turned toward the next set of doors. A large panel truck was parked in front of the entrance. Sister Angela peered inside the dark cavernous winery. It was quiet.

She continued to the rear of the truck. The door was down, forming a ramp. Sister Angela peeked through the opening. No one was in the truck, but a few boxes were stacked in the far corner.

Turning, she found a closed door and inched it open to glimpse inside. Suddenly the doorknob was wrenched from her grip. Someone was emerging from what appeared to be storage warehouse. The man stopped short and stared at the intruder.

“I’m sorry,” said the nun. “I must be in the wrong place. I was searching for a restroom.”

“You’re definitely not in the right place,” said Ermanno, gently pushing the nun out of the doorway and closing it behind him.”

“Ah. I was having lunch at your tasting room, and I thought your wife pointed me in this direction.”

“No. The restrooms are in back of the tasting room.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said walking with him toward his office. “After lunch, my friend and I would like a tour. What time do you have tours?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have any. It’s harvest time, and we’re very busy.” He slowed in front of the entrance to the cavernous winery. “And Donata isn’t my wife. She’s my brother’s fiancée.”

Sister Angela had to think fast. She hadn’t yet learned what she needed. She repeated to Ermanno her story about knowing the former waitress before he could turn and leave her there. Ermanno stared at her. His jaw muscles twitched, and a crease formed on his brow.

“Donata mentioned she replaced her about four years ago. I’m looking for the former employee you see. I’m a friend of the family and was asked by them to tell her they were thinking of her.”

Ermanno took her arm and led her to his desk, situated on an island surrounded by steel drums and oak barrels.

“Oh, this must be the winery. Surely someone can tell me how the grapes turn into your delicious Chianti.”

Ermanno gestured to another worker. “Sister, this is Guillermo, my assistant. Would you please escort this woman…?”

“Sister Angela,” the nun said.

“Would you please give Sister Angela a tour of the premises? She’s interested in how we make wine.”

“I have a team working on the press as you asked. I really should…”

“The team can handle that. Sister Angela’s come a long way for a tour, and I’m asking you to make her wish come true.” Ermanno turned to face the nun. “You said you had a friend with you? I can go fetch her.”

“Oh,” she said, trying to come up with an answer. “We planned to meet here after lunch. She has to work through the noon hour and…”

“Are you saying she isn’t here yet?” he asked, interrupting her. He held her by the shoulder nearly shaking the response out of her.

“Yes. She won’t be here for another hour.”

“I’m afraid it’ll be too late for the tour in another hour,” he said, removing his hand.

“That’s all right. I’ll take the tour by myself and tell her about it later.” She spun around to follow Guillermo’s retreating figure.

They began at the large press just outside the back door. Guillermo abandoned her for a few minutes to instruct his team. Sister Angela took the time to look at her watch. Sister Tiberia would be calling the police in three minutes.

“Sister,” said Guillermo. “I assume you’ve seen bunches of grapes before…”

“Ah, what a beautiful scene. It makes me want to remain out here all day. Tell me, is that the farmhouse? The red of the tile roof is stunning against the blue sky. And look, beyond is Corsa Pietra. Family members can look across the valley whenever they want.”

“Yes, that’s the family who owns Amarena Balda.”

“Does Donata live there with her fiancée? I’m afraid I got her chatting about it when I saw her ring. How long have you worked here?”

“I’ve been here nearly ten years. Let’s go inside. I can talk to you about fermentation.”

“Just one moment. If you’ve been here ten years then you know about the woman whom Donata replaced.”

The worker urged her toward the door. “Viviana? She hasn’t been here for a while.”

“Yes. I’m a friend of the family, you know. They told me Viviana loved working here. I heard she left, but you know how family is. Was she fired?”

Guillermo squeezed her arm and forced her through the door.

“What did I say?” she asked. “Did I say something?”

Ermanno approached. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s asking about Viviana,” said Guillermo. “I’m not sure I should be the one to tell her anything about a previous employee.”

“What do you want to know, Sister?” Ermanno demanded. “Please follow me. I can’t leave my work right now, but we can still talk.” He turned to leave.

Sister Angela sped up to stay with him.

“Tell me about Viviana’s family,” he said. “What do they want to know? Did the woman run away from them too?”

The nun nearly tripped. What had the assistant said? Why had Ermanno assumed she was missing?
He must know something about her demise
. “It’s true I haven’t seen Viviana for several years. Her family never spoke of the situation. I assume that means she was fired and ran away ashamed.” Breathless, she continued. “I suppose your brother’s
avvocato
possesses the signed divorce papers.”

Ermanno stopped. “What do you mean?”

“No one would let Donata marry him unless Viviana was dead, or she and your brother were divorced.”

He walked away, the long strides of his gait making the nun trot alongside. Sister Angela wasn’t watching where they were going. She had to concentrate. The nun slowed her pace. Letting her eyes scan his retreating figure, she searched for a weapon kept near his waist. She couldn’t make one out. The nun listened for sirens. Silence. Didn’t Sister Tiberia make the phone call?

“Forgive me, but maybe this is a bad time to ask for a tour. I see we’re passing the entrance. I can leave now if it would be better for you.”

“It’s a bad time to make your exit, Sister. My tour starts over here. If you wait for me inside this room, I can uncork some of the
riserva
so we can sip wine while I show you how fermentation works. He opened the door at the end of the winery and flipped on the light.”

“What room is this?” she asked as the lights went out again. The door shut behind her.
My guess is a jail cell.

She made her way back to the door and flipped the light switch on the wall next to it. The bulb didn’t go on. She’d just have to sit and let her eyes adjust to the dark. She remembered catching a glimpse of stacked boxes on the opposite wall and inched her way forward until she found a box away from the taller stacks. Sitting down, she fingered her beads.
A little prayer wouldn’t hurt.
Why can’t I hear sirens?