Finding Angelo (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 2)

by Christa Polkinhorn

  “Yes, and it just arrived a few days before you got here. But look at the postmark.” Nino motioned at the envelope Sofia held.

  “It was mailed in Italy … in the Piedmont somewhere … but this was what? Eleven years ago.” Sofia looked at the others, stunned.

  “How is that possible?” Nicholas stared at the envelope Sofia handed him.

  “We don’t know,” Rosa said. “Giuseppe took it to the post office and asked. They claimed that they only received it now.”

  “No telling where it was held up,” Giuseppe added. “Could be in Italy, could be here.”

  “Gee, what does this mean?” Nicholas wondered. “One thing we know for sure. Eleven years ago, Uncle Angelo was still alive and lived in Italy. Well, it’s at least something. Did you tell Grandpa Martin?”

  Giuseppe shook his head. “We figured since you were going to be here, we’d give it to you.”

  Nicholas put the note on the table. “I’ll let him know. He really misses Angelo and now with all the suspicions floating around, we need to find him.”

  “I’m going to be in Italy for a few weeks,” Sofia said. “Perhaps, I can find out more. At least, we have the name of the town in the Piedmont. Here it says … Bardonico. I’ve never heard of it, but my family in Italy may know.”

  “Hmm, sounds like you’re looking for a needle in a haystack,” Mario said. “Even if you find the place, it doesn’t mean the letter was mailed in the same town where Angelo lived. Since he wanted to be incognito, he may have mailed it from a different place.”

  “Yes, besides, he may not live there anymore,” Giuseppe added.

  “Still,” Sofia said. “It’s better than nothing. This is the first clue. I’m getting excited.”

  “Just be careful, Sofia,” Giuseppe said. “We don’t know what happened to Angelo. If he continued his way of life, he may be involved with some questionable or even dangerous characters.”

  “I hope not,” Sofia said. “Anyway, finding an address shouldn’t be that dangerous.”

  “I need to let Grandpa know.” Nicholas looked pensively at the note. “Can I keep this?”

  Rosa nodded. “Of course. I hope this will have a positive ending.”

  “I hope so, too,” Giuseppe said quietly. “But I’m not convinced.”

  “Tell me more about Great-Uncle Angelo,” Nicholas said eagerly. “How was he when he was here? What do you know about him … and about Grandpa Martin?”

  Giuseppe sighed. “It was a difficult time for both of them. And I don’t feel proud of the role I played during that time.”

  “Let’s have dessert and coffee first,” Rosa suggested. She brought in a homemade chocolate cake and a bowl with whipped cream, while Nino poured the espresso from a sturdy Italian Bialetti pot.

  Nicholas took a bite of a large piece of cake. “That’s delicious.”

  “And whipped cream made from scratch,” Sofia added.

  “Oh, yes, I don’t like the one in the can,” Rosa said.

  They ate in silence for a while. Nicholas finished his cake and coffee fast and was eager to find out more about the history of his relatives.

  As if Giuseppe had read his mind, he drank his espresso in one gulp, put the cup down, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Well, back to Angelo and Martin.”

  He put his elbows on the table and folded his hands. “Angelo was a troubled child. I was a kid myself back then, a couple of years older than him. Martin, on the other hand, was studious, quiet, and very serious.”

  “He still is rather serious,” Sofia murmured.

  “Hasn’t changed much, at least not in that respect,” Nicholas said with a chuckle. “But he does have a sense of humor. But go on.”

  “Yes, serious. Well, he had to grow up too fast. His mother died when he was only eighteen and Angelo was eight. So Martin became a kind of surrogate father and mother for his younger brother.”

  “Was nobody else helping?” Sofia asked. “That’s a big responsibility for a young man.”

  “Oh, yes, the whole family pitched in from what I remember. There was always an aunt or uncle around. But still, Angelo needed a mother and a father, a firm hand.

  “Now Angelo had been a difficult boy all along, but when his mother died, he went to pieces. He didn’t even know his father because I think he died shortly after Angelo was born and before the family moved to the United States.”

  “You mentioned you played a role in this you aren’t proud of,” Nicholas said.

  “Yes, well, I was wild and did all kinds of stupid things together with my friends. You know, the kind of stuff that could get you into trouble with the authorities if you get caught. And doing them without getting caught was our goal in life at the time.” Giuseppe shrugged. “Nothing major: shoplifting, stealing candy and comics in the store, graffiti, smoking, that kind of thing.”

  Giuseppe grimaced and ran his hand through his short salt-and-pepper hair. “Trouble was, Angelo admired me. I was the boss of a group of wild kids, and he followed right along. I was not the kind of friend Angelo needed during that vulnerable time in his life. That’s what I blame myself for.”

  “You were a kid yourself,” Rosa said.

  “Still, I knew better. Anyway, I eventually straightened out, but Angelo ended up in juvie hall for some time.”

  “And Grandpa?” Nicholas asked.

  “Martin went to college and did really well. After college, he worked in an accounting firm. Then all of a sudden, he decided to move to California. He had a friend who’d started a vineyard. Martin felt it would be a fresh beginning for him, and particularly for Angelo.”

  Rosa brought another round of coffee, and Nino opened a bottle of liquor.

  “Grappa anybody?” he asked. Giuseppe nodded while the others shook their head. Nino poured two small glasses.

  “I didn’t keep in touch with them after they moved,” Giuseppe said. “Martin and I weren’t on the best of terms. He blamed me for some of the crap Angelo did, and he may have been justified. Later, I heard though that things improved and they did quite well for a while. And then everything went down the tubes again.”

  “That’s when Elvira died, right?” Sofia asked. “We found her diary.”

  “I think so, yes,” Nino said. “And then Angelo disappeared.”

  “Didn’t he come here first after he left California?” Nicholas asked.

  “Yes, he stayed with us for about two weeks,” Giuseppe said. “He said something bad had happened and he needed to disappear. We tried to find out what it was, but he wouldn’t say. He was really shaken up. He asked me if I was still in touch with someone from our family in Italy. I gave him the name of a friend of his father, the only person I still knew of. But I didn’t know if the man was still alive. And then, one day Angelo was gone. Didn’t leave any message, just a note, saying not to worry about him.”

  “And now, his friend’s skeleton showed up on our property and we’re in the middle of this mess.” Nicholas smirked. “Thanks, Uncle Angelo.”

  It was quiet for a while, everybody seemed deep in thought.

  Giuseppe cleared his throat. “You know, burying someone’s body on one’s property is a typical mobster thing.”

  Nicholas stared at him. “How do you know?”

  Giuseppe shrugged. “Read it somewhere.”

  Nicholas waited for him to go on, but he didn’t. Mario glanced at Nicholas, gave a quick smile, and raised his eyebrows.

  “How morbid,” Rosa said.

  Chapter 11

  “Do you think Giuseppe knows more about the Mafia than he admitted?” Sofia asked. She and Nicholas were on the ferry back to Manhattan. She gazed with half-closed eyes at the water shimmering in the evening sun. It had warmed up during the day, but the evenings and nights were still rather cold, in the low fifties and high forties. Sofia inhaled the salty smell of the harbor and listened to the sound of the waves breaking against the ferry.

  “I wonder,” Nicholas mused as they w
ent inside to get out of the nippy weather. “According to Mario, his nickname is ‘mobster’ after all.”

  “Yes, and he knew about the bodies buried on the mob’s properties. Strange.”

  “But if that’s really true, and the skeleton was buried by some mobster, then that would mean … they’re in California. We may be in more trouble than we originally thought.” Nicholas stared at Sofia.

  “Well, let’s not get carried away,” Sofia said. “It may just be a coincidence that we found the bones on our property. It doesn’t necessarily mean some Mafia guy buried them.”

  Nicholas shrugged. “One thing is for sure. I’m glad we went to see the Staten Island family. They’re a lot nicer than I expected. Too bad Mario had to leave early. I would’ve liked to pick his brain about Giuseppe some more.”

  “I’m glad we got that note from Bardonico,” Sofia said. “I think it’s a sign. It arrived just before I’m leaving for Italy.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not going to play detective, are you?” Nicholas sounded worried. “I hate letting you go by yourself. I’d really like to come along.”

  “Now, listen.” Sofia slapped his arm playfully. “I’m not going to get involved in anything dangerous. But wouldn’t it be wonderful if I did find someone who knows something about Uncle Angelo?”

  “Yes, of course. But we really don’t know what he’s involved in, or even if he’s still alive. If he does have anything to do with the mob …” Nicholas hesitated.

  “Well, if what Giuseppe said was true, we have to worry about the Mafia in this country,” Sofia said. “You going back to California may be more dangerous than me going to Italy. If Angelo had to run away from the mob, he went to Italy because he felt safer there, don’t you think?”

  “But we don’t know if he was running away from the mob,” Nicholas said. “He could be one of them. And Italy, after all, is where the Mafia originated.”

  “He was running away from something,” Sofia mused. “He said he had to disappear.”

  “Whatever you do, please be careful,” Nicholas begged.

  “Nicholas, please, I’m not a damsel in distress. You don’t have to save me. And I’m not an idiot. Of course I won’t do anything dangerous.”

  “I’m just a worried husband. What can I say? Besides, I’d love to come with you, not just because I worry but because I’d like to see the Santuccis again, Julietta and the rest of them. And I’ll miss you.” He put his arm around Sofia and kissed her. “But I can’t really leave the work in the vineyards up to Grandpa. I’ll have to be there.”

  “I know. I’ll miss you too, of course. But I’ll be only gone for a few weeks. And fortunately, Julietta will be with us this fall. Next time, though, you’ll need to come along, too.”

  The following few days, Sofia and Nicholas did some more sightseeing. They visited the Rockefeller Center in the evening when it was all lit up and watched the people skate on the ice rink that was still open for a couple of days. They strolled through Greenwich Village and took a tour on a bus around the city. They enjoyed the vibrant atmosphere of New York City.

  Soon, however, the time of separation came, too fast for both of them. They left on the same day, but Sofia’s plane was scheduled to take off earlier. They had a cup of coffee at the airport before Sofia had to go through security. When they said goodbye, Sofia’s excitement about seeing Julietta and the Italian family again was tempered by regret about leaving Nicholas behind. A lot had happened the past few weeks, and she would feel better if they could stay together.

  They kissed goodbye and Sofia promised to call Nicholas as often as possible. “You be careful, too,” she warned him.

  “You’re telling me?” Nicholas hugged her hard. “Well, enjoy your stay and say hello to everybody … and be—”

  “Yes, I’m going to be careful. Please don’t worry. And stay away from the mobsters in California.”

  Nicholas gave a quick grin. They waved at each other. After showing her passport at the customs counter, Sofia looked back, and waved once more. She went through security and walked toward the gate with a heavy heart. She shook her head. Stop being sentimental. It’s going to be fun.

  Chapter 12

  Sofia exhaled deeply as she got off the plane in Florence. She hated long-distance plane trips, but at least flying from the East Coast of the United States to Europe was a few hours less than from California. She grabbed her suitcase on the luggage carousel and went outside. Unlike the nippy weather in New York, the temperature here was pleasantly warm and the sun was shining.

  She checked the time. It was early morning, so it must be evening the day before in California. Nicholas should still be up. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse to text him.

  Just arrived in florence, flight ok, weather perfect, how are u?

  A few minutes later, her phone beeped.

  Sweetie, so glad to hear from you, everything ok here. Mat picked me up, miss u, love u ***

  Miss u too, call u from vignaverde, love ***

  Putting her phone away, she looked around and took a deep breath. “Spring in Italy,” she murmured. “What a pleasure.” She hailed a taxi, which took her to Florence. She was going to meet with Adriano Gori, the lawyer who had taken care of the accounting and finances for her father’s vineyards in Vignaverde and now took care of hers. He had been very supportive when she first came here to meet the sister she had known nothing about and to claim her property. They had become good friends.

  The first thing she did when she got to the center of the city was walk to a coffee shop and order an espresso. None of the espressi she had tried anywhere else could compare with the ones she had tasted in Italy. They served it with a glass of water. After a sip of the fragrant, slightly bitter dark brew, her lips stretched into a smile. I’m back. She grabbed her cell phone and called Adriano.

  “Buongiorno, Sofia.” His dark voice sounded pleased. “Come stai?” Adriano switched to his fluent but somewhat formal English. They arranged to meet in half an hour.

  Sofia walked the short distance to his office in Oltrarno, the older part of Florence. She liked this less touristy neighborhood with its small stores, art galleries, coffee shops, and bars. As she crossed the Arno River, she inhaled the musty scent of the water. The river was a muddy brown. It looked as if it had rained recently.

  Adriano’s office was on the second floor above a coffee shop and bar. Sofia climbed the stairs and smiled as she remembered his love of strong espresso, preferably with a shot of grappa on the side. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had picked the location of his office with his favorite drink in mind.

  When she entered, his secretary, an elderly, skinny woman, her gray hair arranged in an elaborate bun on her head, greeted her warmly. “Signora Segantino, how are you?” She got up and gave Sofia a quick hug.

  “Grazie, Signora Amanda … I thought we were on a first-name basis,” Sofia said.

  “Oh, that’s right. Mi dispiace. I am sorry. My memory is not as dependable as it used to be.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, you have not been here in a while.”

  “I know, it’s been too long. But we’ve been really busy in California,” Sofia said.

  “Well, this is good news, no?” Amanda motioned her to the door of Adriano’s office. “Go right ahead. He is waiting for you. Would you like some coffee? Water?”

  “I just had an espresso, but, yes, why not? I have to take advantage of the excellent Italian coffee,” Sofia said. “And perhaps some water. It’s quite warm already.”

  “Oh, yes, summer is not too far away.” Amanda smiled.

  Sofia knocked on the door to her lawyer’s office and entered. It was a fairly large room with a big window and tons of filing cabinets and bookshelves along the wall.

  Adriano peered at her over his reading glasses, then removed them and got up. “Sofia. It is a pleasure to see you again.” They hugged briefly. He stepped back and smiled at her. “You look splendid. California and married life must agree
with you.”

  Sofia sat on a chair on the other side of his desk and smiled at his gentlemanly behavior. Adriano was a handsome man in his fifties, a little taller than Sofia, somewhat on the stocky side but well proportioned. He had black hair and lively dark eyes. His olive skin made him look like he spent most of his time at the beach. Sofia knew, of course, that this wasn’t true. He was a busy and hardworking man. A year before, he and his German-born wife, Gerda, had taken their first vacation in years on her insistence and visited California. They had stayed with Sofia and Nicholas for a few days. Sofia had fond memories of their time together.

  “How are you and your family?” Sofia asked.

  “Wonderful.” He smiled. “Gerda says hello. Marcello moved to Roma. He got a job as a lawyer there. It is a great opportunity for him. Unfortunately, we do not see as much of him as we would like. But he is happy, so we are happy.” He shrugged. “Lucia is still with us though. She is in her last year at the università.

  “And how is everything in California?” He grabbed a folder from his desk and opened it, then looked up.

  “Fine, everybody is healthy. Nicholas sends his regards. We’re busy with the vineyards as usual. Well, we do have some problems, actually it’s more of a family matter.”

  “Oh?” Adriano raised a quizzical eyebrow.

  “Yes. It’s kind of a long story that started twenty years ago.” Sofia hesitated. Adriano sat up straight and gave her an encouraging nod. Sofia told him about the disappearance of Nicholas’s great-uncle, the hints in his wife’s diary that he was in trouble, that there might even be some connection to the Mafia, and the discovery of the bones of his friend in their new field. She also mentioned the postmarked letter from Italy and the fact that she would like to find out more about Angelo’s whereabouts.

  “Hmm,” Adriano murmured after she finished her story. He put his elbows on the desk, folded his hands underneath his chin, and looked at her, seemingly deep in thought. Then he shook his head and grinned. “This is quite a story. Sofia, you seem to attract mysterious and questionable happenings.”