Chianti Classico (8 page)

“But as you already told us,” said Sister Liona. “The room wouldn’t have been so dusty if someone had recently been in there.”

“We must wait for test results to determine if the items in the room are related to Pia’s disappearance. Someone had used that room at one time or another. I didn’t even get to examine any of the evidence so now we have to wait.”

“You sound disappointed, Sister Daniela. You were frightened and understandably so,” said Mother Faustine. “You could’ve been hurt.”

“If I hadn’t screamed, I would’ve been able to examine the evidence before Elmo found me. And if it had pertained to the child’s kidnapping, we’d be a step ahead in the case. I wish I’d kept my wits about me.”

Sister Angela smiled. “I’ll try to talk to Ricco tomorrow or the day after. I may need a ride into town if anyone’s going my way.”

“I’ll ask Michel if you can use the truck
,
” said Sister Daniela.

The children gathered in the dining room for lunch.

The two nuns sat outside on the grassy slope when Chief Inspector Pagano approached. “I hope you’re all right, Sister Daniela. You should’ve waited for Elmo before you entered the room.”

“Did you find the nun’s habit?” asked Sister Angela.

“Nothing black. There were sheets, a blanket, and a towel in the pile on the bed next to Sister Daniela.”

“It felt like more than that,” said Sister Daniela, playing with a tiny flower growing out of the lawn. “I thought it was a body.”

“You couldn’t see. That place was dusty.”

“What are you going to do now?” asked Sister Angela.

“We’ll take what we’ve found back to the station and examine the items. There might be DNA among the sheets. There was no pillow so we have no pillowcase, but you never know.”

“And your opinion?” asked Sister Daniela.

“The dust was so thick I doubt anyone had been in that room for years. Do you think this nun suspect could’ve slept there the night of the abduction? Her habit wouldn’t have been black when she approached the victim. As for her white headpiece—it was probably bigger than yours, Sister. You two wear more modern ones. Vatican II changed everything.”

Sister Daniela touched the edge of her veil. “It’s a good thing I removed it before my search. I didn’t have to scrub it this afternoon.”

“I’m so glad you were able to bathe and don a fresh habit earlier,” said Sister Angela. “How long do you think it will take to get the DNA back from the lab?”

“About a week, assuming we can find something to test. Then we have to match it to someone in our database. Odds are, we have no nuns in there, but you never know. Sometimes they’re arrested for protesting in government buildings.”

“A week’s too long, Ricco. The child will be long gone.”

“I agree. We can’t wait around for the results. We have to find another lead.”

Sister Daniela walked into her classroom to teach until the final bell that would send her students to study hour on the first floor. Thank you for the help, Allegra.”

“Do they think Pia was in there?” asked Liliana. “Did the witch make her stay there?”

“No,” said Sister Daniela. “It’s just an empty room. We don’t know where she took Pia. I’m changing the subject. I need to assign some homework.”

From inside the classroom, Sister Angela stared through the window at the fence and the vineyard next door. She’d have to find out more about the vintner. What was his background? Did he know the nuns personally? Suddenly she stood and walked out the door. Someone had just passed by the window. She had to find out who he was.

Sister Daniela must have been too busy to notice. She continued answering questions and handing out new assignments.

Sister Angela spied a new picnic table on the grass and sat down on the bench. Not a minute later, a man appeared from around the corner with another bench.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Gavino Abiati, the estate manager.”

“I didn’t know the orphanage had one. How long have you been here?”

The young man removed his gardening glove to swipe away a curl that was stuck to his forehead. “I took over my father’s business when he died about ten years ago.”

“Do you go inside?”

“Yes, of course, though I usually enter through the basement door when it’s open.”

“Do you have a key for when it’s locked?”

“Yes, of course.” He pulled up his t-shirt and showed her the dozens of keys hanging from a ring on his belt loop. Please don’t ask me which one’s for this door.”

“I take it that means you rarely use it. Is one of those keys for the nurse’s room off the deck above us?”

He unclipped the ring and handed it to her. “If you’re asking had I been in the basement earlier today, the answer is
yes
. The door wasn’t locked. I needed the bag of fertilizer that was stored in the supply closet. I passed the cloak closet. Someone had actually broken into the basement chamber. I hadn’t seen that room since I was a kid.”

The nun’s ears perked up. “Are you saying you knew the room was there?”

“Yes. It was my grandfather’s room. He used to sleep in it. There was another chamber where the classroom is now. It wasn’t as big, but it had a table and sink with a stove. There was a toilet off the living area.”

“When did that change?”

“My grandfather died in the seventies. During his lifetime, the nuns weren’t here. The building was a rooming house for veterans. There were quite a few boarders in here.”

“Did the former residents do a lot of damage to the grounds?”

“No. They were pretty respectful. My grandfather used to remind me that they’d been through the war and that everyone was working hard to recover from it.”

“So did the former owner block off that room after you grandfather died?”

“Pretty much. My father didn’t want to live down there so the owner had him board up the door. Then the nuns moved in and wanted the extra space. They had my father build the closets in front of that wall. Then they instructed him to take down a wall or two and create a huge classroom.”

“Wait. Go back. Did you know about the secret door?”

“Yes. I helped him put in that door.”

“Did one of the nuns give you permission?”

“Since the wall had been boarded up before they came, I don’t believe the nuns knew a room existed back there. My father only put in that secret door because he was positive the nuns would change their minds and ask him to increase the space even more.”

“Did you ever open it? I can imagine how much fun it would be to pretend it was a castle or a prison.”

“No. My grandfather died in that room. It sort of spooks me out.”

“So you’d never come back here that night to get in through the basement door, I suppose.”

“Of course not. There’s no one in the basement at night. It’s dark in there. Did you think I was that nun who broke in and stole the kid?”

“It crossed my mind. You didn’t, did you?”

“No. The nuns bring me tea and cookies before I leave every evening. I wouldn’t want to ruin that. They didn’t mention that I might have done it, did they?”

“So your family has managed this property for decades. Are there any other secrets we should know about? How about the fence over there.” She pointed to the side yard. “The one outside the classroom windows.”

“That was put in before my father retired to Naples.”

“Was it because the nuns didn’t want the children to run all over the place?”

“No, I believe La Barca wanted it put up. I guess he was afraid the children would crush his vines. I used to help myself to some of his grapes when I was young so I suppose he was right to fear a number of children might do even more damage.”

“La Barca?”

“Martino La Barca owns that winery. He’s okay, I guess. I don’t know him well, but no one complained about him.”

“Oh yes. I think someone else mentioned his name. Do you think his wine has a good reputation? His vines don’t look as healthy as others in the area.”

“I don’t know. His wine’s good enough. He isn’t a showy guy, if you know what I mean. He doesn’t become friendly with his neighbors. The nuns might know him better. I’m not sure. I really should get back to work.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m putting out the picnic tables. The nuns want to have a barbeque with the kids. I don’t know why they decided to put them out this late in the season.”

“I heard there was going to be a fundraiser in a week or so,” said Sister Angela. “Perhaps they need to make money to pay for their activities.” The nun walked back inside and to find Sister Daniela. She stopped when the gardener cleared his throat.

“Just remember to return the keys to me as soon as you checked the room on the deck above us.”

She waved the ring at him and smiled.

“Mr. Abiati told me the story of the secret door. I’m not sure we found anything that can help us with the case.”

Sister Daniela looked surprised. “Mr. Abiati?”

“Gavino, the estate manager.”

“Ah, I don’t know him that well. What did he say?”

“That his grandfather, estate manager number one, lived down here until his death in the 70s. The room across the hall was his bedroom, and your classroom was his kitchen and living room. Estate manger number two, Gavino’s father, wasn’t interest in raising his family in the basement so the owner had him close off the room. According to Gavino, that was okay with him because it was spooky. When the nuns came, they had the Gavino build the closets along the wall on one side and tear down the living-area walls across the aisle to create the classroom. Gavino’s father decided on the secret door because he didn’t trust the nuns. He thought they’d change their minds and want him to make the area bigger. Evidently, no one ever told the nuns the room was there.”

Sister Daniela sat down. “So Mr. Abiati doesn’t think anyone has been in there for years. That’s strange. The bed and stuff on the bed was just left there? I swear I’ve heard noises coming out of there on occasion.” She stood and grabbed her bag.

“Stop right there,” said Sister Angela. “You can’t drop a bombshell like that and then just walk out. You’re perfectly aware the pipe for the furnace passes through that room to that side of the house. That must be the noise.”

Sister Daniela smiled and opened the classroom door. “I’d love to get home and take a bath. I sure hope Michel and Susanna have leftovers so we can just heat up something.