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

by Christa Polkinhorn

  The man, trembling and barely able to stand up, limped to the door. He opened it and disappeared. Louie turned toward the desk. He sat down in front of a computer monitor. He glanced around the windowless room. Aside from the desk, a lamp, and the computer, the room was empty.

  Louie scratched his head and stared at the monitor and his reflection on the screen: a head of disheveled dirty-brown hair, a meaty face, and small glaring eyes. “Goddamn it.” With a deep sigh he pulled out his cell phone and punched a button. He recognized the steely voice and the clipped “Yeah?”

  “It’s Louie. Boss. You’re right. We do have a problem.”

  Chapter 22

  Sofia started the car and drove along the narrow street, checking the rearview mirror. So far nobody was following her. She turned left at the crossing and followed the country road that Miriam told her would lead to the monastery. After about half a mile, she glanced at the rearview mirror again and inhaled sharply.

  There it was again, the blue Honda. She tightened her hands around the steering wheel. This wasn’t a coincidence anymore. She was being followed. Her chest tensed as she tried to decide what to do. She looked toward the horizon where the sun was beginning to sink behind the hills. It would be getting dark soon. There was hardly any traffic on the road, only an occasional car came from the other direction. She was alone with some creep following her.

  “Not good, Sofia,” she murmured. After a few minutes, she saw what looked like the monastery on the hill, a group of stone houses around a church. It resembled a small hill town.

  Another glance back. The blue Honda was closer now, still not right behind her, but too close for comfort. What should she do? Turn back? Drive to Moretta and stay with Miriam? Try again tomorrow early in the day? But she was so close.

  With a deep exhalation, she slowed down a little, searching for the road leading up to the monastery. She almost missed it, but turned the steering wheel to the right at the last moment, veered over to the left, tires screeching. She got control of the car again and checked the rearview mirror. The blue Honda passed the exit.

  “Got you.” Sofia took a few deep breaths, trying to steady her heartbeat, and followed the driveway up the hill.

  There was a small parking lot next to a meadow in front of the monastery, almost empty except for a large van that resembled a school bus. Sofia parked her car and sat for a moment, trying to decide if she should have a look around. Just as she was getting ready to open the car door, she gasped. The blue Honda drove into the parking lot from the back of the buildings. There must be another road to the monastery.

  She started the car, drove down the hill, her heart thudding. She glanced back, but the Honda wasn’t following her, not yet. She turned left on the main road that led back to Moretta. She accelerated and drove well past the speed limit, hoping she wouldn’t be stopped by a cop. She didn’t want another encounter like the one with the unfriendly policeman in Bardonico. Fortunately, there was little traffic and she soon saw the houses of Moretta. She checked her rearview mirror. No Honda.

  Sofia drove to Miriam’s place. She decided not to park right in front of it, in case her follower would look for her again. She didn’t want to let him know where she was. She parked a couple of blocks away, got out, grabbed her overnight bag, and locked the car.

  “No.” Her breath caught as she saw a blue Honda turn the corner. He’d followed her after all. She hurried down a crossroad to the one where Miriam lived, hoping he hadn’t seen her yet. Sweat poured down her back, although it was already cool outside. She turned into the next street and waited a while, constantly glancing around. Perhaps she should wait until it was dark. The sun had gone down and dusk began to spread, coloring the surrounding hills and mountains purple. After a while, she began to shiver, not just out of fear, but because the temperature dropped after sunset.

  Finally, she plucked up her courage and walked to the corner of Miriam’s street. She looked in both directions. No blue Honda and nobody was out in the street. She slowly walked toward the house, then hesitated. What if he watched her? She might endanger Miriam as well. By now, she was convinced that whoever followed her was dangerous and that his stalking had to do with her trying to find Angelo. Perhaps this sleuthing wasn’t such a great idea. She should just call Nicholas, give him all the news, drive back to Vignaverde, and let the police take care of business. What now? Drive back to Pavone? But it was too late in the day for that.

  She took another deep breath and walked toward the house. Still no Honda. She opened the gate and entered the small front-yard. No light shown through the window. She knocked on the door.

  “Please, Miriam, be here,” she whispered.

  Chapter 23

  Miriam put the groceries away. She filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, then dropped two spoonfuls of Earl Grey tea into the pot. Waiting for the water to boil, she glanced out the window at the bougainvillea in her neighbor’s yard, its red blossoms quivering in the late afternoon breeze.

  She thought about Danilo. She couldn’t get used to his real name. The fact that he never told her his name was Angelo made her relationship to him even more questionable. Obviously, he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her.

  When the kettle whistled, Miriam poured the boiling water over the tea leaves. While letting the tea steep, she continued to look out the window. A deep sigh escaped her. She shook her head. She had tried to forget Danilo, to let him go, and thought she had succeeded. Meeting his great-niece, however, had reignited the pain that obviously still lodged deep in her heart. Why did he just disappear? Sofia had told her that he was probably hiding from some dangerous people. But still, he could’ve told her. She wouldn’t have betrayed him.

  Miriam poured the tea and added milk and sugar. She took the cup into the living room and sat on the sofa, gazing at a small collection of colorful stones on the mantelpiece. She had gathered them on her hikes with Angelo.

  She’d been attracted to him because he was different, different from her former husband, a charming, gregarious—and ultimately cruel—man. Danilo was shy, somewhat aloof, often withdrawn, but kind. Her best memories of him were the outings they went on together. They both loved to hike and discover new areas. The woods and mountains around their small village in the Piedmont were the perfect place for exploring. They often hiked for a couple of days and spent the night in some hut. During the cooler seasons, they built a fire, roasted chestnuts and sausages, and sat around after the sun set, simply enjoying the peace and quiet.

  It was during those hikes that Miriam felt she got to know him better. He shared some anecdotes about his family back in California. She now remembered him talking about his great nephew, Nicholas, who seemed to have been a favorite of his. Nicholas must be Sofia’s husband. Danilo had told her he had been a troubled youngster and he regretted having betrayed his family.

  One summer day, at noontime, they sat in the shade of a large Italian stone pine, getting ready to have a picnic. He asked her if she ever thought of moving back to the United States. She was surprised at the question.

  “Why? Are you thinking about it?” Miriam asked.

  Danilo shrugged. “Sometimes. I like it here. I’ve been able to live a decent life in Italy. I’m grateful for it. But … I have unfinished business back home and one day, I have to go back to clear things up. I just don’t have the courage yet.”

  When she asked him to elaborate, however, he withdrew again. “It’s family stuff,” he said and shook his head.

  It was the closest she had come to learning about the problems he had back in California.

  That was that. Now, Miriam regretted not having tried to dig deeper. She had been afraid to push him away by asking him stuff he wasn’t willing to share. There would be time, she felt. When he was ready.

  Well, that time never came. One day, he was gone, without a message. Her heart still contracted at the thought. She shook her head as if to dislodge the painful feelings, got up, and brough
t her cup and tea pot back into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and tried to decide what to have for dinner.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Sofia stood outside, her overnight bag clutched to her chest, her face pale. “Can I stay with you tonight? I’m being followed.”

  Chapter 24

  Miriam’s eyes widened. She stepped aside and motioned for Sofia to enter.

  Sofia took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “No problem. I’m glad you’re here.” Miriam glanced outside, then closed the door. “What happened?”

  Sofia told her about the man in the blue Honda whom she suspected had been following her all the way from Bardonico. It had scared her so badly when she saw him at the monastery again that she just turned back.

  “Why don’t we both go there tomorrow?” Miriam suggested. “We’ll take my car and in case he was really following you, he doesn’t know my car.”

  Sofia was relieved. “You wouldn’t mind coming along? That would be great.”

  “Yes, all this talk about Danilo … I mean Angelo, gee, I wish I could get used to his real name,” Miriam said. “Anyway, all this brought up quite a lot of emotions. And I would love to find out what happened to him.”

  “Good, I could use a helper. This sleuthing is getting a little out of hand,” Sofia said.

  “Well, Sherlock Holmes, we’ll do it together.” Miriam chuckled.

  “Aye, aye, Dr. Watson.” Sofia laughed, then became serious again. “I should really call my husband. I haven’t talked to him for a few days. I have trouble getting through on my cell. I know he’s worried.”

  “Call him from my landline,” Miriam said and pointed at her phone.

  Sofia checked her watch. It was early morning in California and she hoped to get a hold of Nicholas before he started working. He usually went walking through the vineyards together with his grandfather in the mornings. Sofia took a deep breath and dialed the number.

  “Hello?” sounded a surprised voice. Sofia realized that he had seen Miriam’s number on his display.

  “Hi sweetie. It’s me,” Sofia said.

  “Sofia? Where are you? I didn’t recognize the number. What’s going on? Are you all right?”

  “Yes, calm down,” Sofia said. “I’m at a friend’s place.” She told Nicholas that she had received some information about Angelo from a priest in Bardonico and that she was now in Moretta. “I met a friend of Angelo’s and I’m staying with her now. Tomorrow, we’ll go and check out a monastery nearby.”

  “A monastery? Why?”

  “Yeah, I know. Sounds strange, doesn’t it? But both Miriam—that’s Angelo’s friend—and Don Ambrosio said that Angelo had expressed an interest in religion and the monastic life.”

  “What? That doesn’t sound like the Angelo we know. Are you sure this is the right Angelo?” Nicholas said.

  “I’m sure it’s him. He may have changed his life around. But the important fact is that until about five years ago, he was still here and alive. So I hope we can get some information from the Benedictine monastery in the area.”

  “Gee, Sofia, it sounds like you’re traveling through the whole of the Piedmont,” Nicholas said. “Anyway, I’ll let Grandpa and George Silver know. Listen, you be careful, okay. So you’re going to the monastery next? Is your friend coming with you?”

  “Yes, she knows where it is. And she wants to find Angelo, too.” Sofia glanced at Miriam, but her friend was rinsing a few dishes in the kitchen. “They were a couple. And then Angelo disappeared again.”

  “Well, at least you’re not traveling alone. But please, please be careful. If Angelo keeps disappearing, there is something wrong with him. Obviously.” Nicholas sounded worried again.

  “Please don’t worry. We are only going to find out if he had been at the monastery. Chances are, we’ll hit a dead end. But I’ll let you know.”

  There was a pause, then Nicholas spoke again. “You know, this all sounds strange. You seem to have no trouble finding information about Angelo but the police here only found out that he renewed his American passport twice. The residence he listed was an address in Milano, but when the police checked it out, an old woman lived there, who didn’t know Angelo and had never heard of him. They didn’t find any mention of an Angelo Segantino anywhere in Italy that fit his profile.”

  Sofia swallowed. Now was the time to tell Nicholas about the name change.

  “Oh, Sofia, I just realized I need to go. I have a dental appointment. Please keep in touch and let me know what happens … and be careful.”

  After Sofia put down the receiver, she took a deep breath. “I should’ve told him about the name change,” she murmured. “Next time for sure.” She went into the kitchen where Miriam was chopping zucchini. “Can I help?”

  Miriam glanced at her. “No, everything is ready. I’m fixing some vegetables and heated up the leftover chicken casserole.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” Sofia said. She inhaled the delicious scent. “Smells good. Basil?”

  “Yes. You can open a bottle of wine if you want to.” Miriam pointed at a bottle of red wine on the kitchen counter. “The corkscrew is in the drawer underneath.”

  Sofia checked the label on the wine. “Ah, Nebbiolo, excellent, the famous wine of the Piedmont.”

  “Yes, I have it from a vineyard nearby,” Miriam said.

  They sat down to a dinner of chicken cacciatore and a plate of zucchini, peppers, and eggplant. The meal and the wine relaxed Sofia and for a moment she forgot the fact that not only was she withholding information from her husband, her family, and most likely from the police in California, but she also was being followed by some mysterious guy, probably a criminal.

  Chapter 25

  The following morning, Sofia and Miriam had a quick breakfast of cereal and coffee before driving to the Benedictine monastery nearby.

  The trip in Miriam’s Fiat took half an hour. It was a sunny late spring day and Sofia, relaxed after a good night’s sleep, was able to enjoy the beautiful landscape. The dark-green meadows took turns with fields of colorful flowers. They passed a few vineyards where the vintners were busy checking and cleaning the vines.

  She thought of her vineyard in Vignaverde, her sister Julietta, and the Italian family, working in the fields as were Nicholas and her American family. She missed them. She hadn’t been able to talk much with her sister or the Santuccis, and she began to feel guilty for abandoning them. Perhaps after her search for Angelo was over, she could extend her stay for a week to make up for her absence. She yearned to be with Julietta. Fortunately, Julietta would be with her in the fall. Sofia was looking forward to having her sister with her on a more permanent basis.

  Sofia, still nervous about being followed, turned around and glanced back, but to her relief, there was no blue Honda anywhere. They came to the sign for the monastery and drove up the hill.

  After parking the car, they walked toward the open gate of the monastery. Two monks stepped outside. One of them pointed a key at one of the few cars in the parking lot. The unlock mechanism made a quick beeping sound. Sofia was surprised to see monks drive what looked like a decent car. She had imagined they would walk, use a bicycle, or drive an old battered car. Then again, her education on priests and monks came from TV shows such as Father Brown, which she occasionally watched.

  “Let’s ask them,” Miriam said and waved at the two men. One of them was young, tall, and clean-shaven and the older one had a bushy black-and-gray beard. Both were clothed in the traditional long black habit. Miriam greeted them in Italian and asked if they could speak to the abbot. The two men glanced at each other, then at the women. The older one smiled and told them that this was a monastery—for men.

  “I know that,” Miriam said, laughing. “I don’t want to join. We are looking for a male relative who might have joined the order.”

  The monks gave them directions to where they would find the abbot, then nodded goodbye and l
eft. Sofia and Miriam entered through the portal of the abbey, which led into a courtyard with a three-span portico. On the right side was a chapel and a small room that looked like a foyer. A monk sat at a desk, reading something. He looked up startled when they entered, then greeted them politely.

  Miriam explained the reason for being here. Sofia was glad she didn’t have to use her faulty Italian. The monk picked up the phone and pressed a button, then talked to someone, presumably the abbot. He put down the receiver and told them that the abbot would be able to talk to them in about half an hour. He would meet them in the courtyard.

  Sofia and Miriam walked around the part of the abbey that was open to visitors. There was a small chapel with natural stone walls and a slate tile roof. The inside was modest but lovingly decorated with a few paintings and frescoes, one of them showing Saint Benedict. A couple of monks sat in the pews, praying silently. The sun shining through the windows lit up the small altar with a simple cross and a black leather-bound book, most likely a prayer book. The slightly musty scent, mixed with incense, added to the peaceful, spiritual atmosphere that permeated the room. After sitting quietly in one of the pews for a while, Sofia and Miriam got up and left.

  As they stepped outside, a monk, dressed in the traditional black robe and wearing a cross on a chain, was waiting in front of the chapel.

  “I think it’s the abbot,” Miriam whispered. They walked up to him. “Padre Abate?” Miriam asked.

  “Si,” the man said with a smile. He was slightly taller than Sofia, had broad shoulders and as far as she could tell a substantial body, though it was covered by his black robe. What struck her most, however, were his deep brown eyes in his round face that measured them with an intense but kind expression.