Finding Angelo (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 2) (10 page)

“Why would you sell the property without telling me? Frank,
you’re an idiot, a complete fool.”

“It’s my property, for Christ’s
sake. I have the right to sell it to who I want to.”

“You promised you’d tell me before
you sold anything.”

“Anton, I haven’t heard from you
in over ten years. You showed no interest in the farm. I’m the one who did all
the work, who took care of it. And legally, it belongs to me.”

“Legally, legally, there was
nothing legal about it. My father gave it to you, because he was pissed off at
me. I could’ve contested the will. But I thought we were family. So we work
together and not against each other.”

“I’m not working against you. You
were gone, you didn’t care about the property, and so I sold it to my
neighbor.”

“Great, you sold it to the family
of that prick, Angelo. Real smart, asshole.”

“Anton, stop insulting me. You’ve
no right. After all, you gave that prick a job.”

“Which I regret to this day.
Angelo and Fred were a bunch of losers. I tried to help them out, but I had to
fire them.”

“So what about the bones?” The
voice at the other end sounded whiny. Anton Leonardi hated whiny.

“How should I know? I certainly
didn’t put them there. I wasn’t even in California at the time.”

“Then who did it? There is an
extensive police investigation going on. They’re digging, Anton. Both in the
field and into the background of the people who are connected to it.”

“I don’t care, Frank. Let them
dig. I’ve nothing to do with it. Did they dig up the whole field?”

“Yes.”

“And they only found Fred’s
bones?” Anton pulled on his scraggly beard.

“Yes, what else should they’ve
found?” The voice sounded belligerent now. Anton didn’t mind belligerent. It
was better than whiny.
What a screwed-up family I have.

“Hell, I don’t know. I’ve always
told you Fred was a troublemaker, Fred and that no-good friend of his. Where in
the hell is he, anyway? He’s probably the one who killed Fred.” Anton snorted.

“They’re looking for him. Last I
heard he may be in Italy, somewhere in the Piedmont. I overheard the neighbors
talk about it,” Frank said.

“Could you be a little more
specific? Piedmont and Italy are fairly big, after all.” Anton glanced out the
window of his high-rise apartment in Chicago.

“I don’t know, some place called
Bardonico, I think.”

“Bardonico? Well … okay. They’ll
find him and then they’ll have the culprit. So why are you bothering me?” Anton
scratched his balding head, thinking hard.
Bardonico, Bardonico, why does
that sound familiar?

“I just wanted you to know. Be
careful, Anton. Where are you anyway? … Hey, did you hear me?”

“What? I’m in Chicago. You know
that. You have my phone number.”

“Where in Chicago? Chicago is
fairly big, after all,” Frank tried to imitate Anton’s voice.

“Shut up. Sarcasm doesn’t become
you. Chicago is all you need to know. I’ve business to take care of now.” Anton
pressed the disconnect button and threw the phone at the sofa in his office. He
hit the desk with his fist. “Goddamn it. Stupid idiots.”

His wife opened the door. “What’s
the matter? Who are you screaming at?”

“Nothing’s the matter. Now, shut
the door. I’ve work to do,” he snapped. He waited until she closed the door.
“Nosy bitch.”

He stood by the window staring
down at Lake Michigan as if the answers to his questions were somewhere in the
water. It was early May and the metal-gray surface of the lake glimmered in the
diffuse sunlight. “Damn it,” he grumbled again, oblivious to the view from his
apartment on the sixth floor of a modern high-rise building. He picked the
phone off the sofa and, after a brief hesitation, tapped the button of one of
the stored numbers.

Someone picked up after the fourth
ring. “Yeah?” said a hoarse voice.

“Louie?” Anton said.

Another “Yeah.”

“It’s Anton Leonardi. We have a
problem.”

Sofia kept glancing back while she tried to concentrate on
the traffic at the same time. She saw the blue Honda, but then it was gone
again. Sofia breathed a sigh of relief.
False alarm.

Ever since her phone conversation
with Don Ambrosio, the uncomfortable feeling around the rude police officer had
intensified. Something was wrong there. Why did he want to know what Sofia told
the priest and why did he lie to her about not recognizing Angelo? She was
convinced he’d lied. Sofia shook her head and exhaled deeply. She kept glancing
back but didn’t see the blue Honda anymore. After she entered the freeway,
traffic increased and she focused on the road.

After two hours, Sofia took the
exit to Moretta. She drove along a two-lane road through the countryside.
Unlike in the higher mountains, here it was warmer again and the meadows were
full of flowers, vineyards, and red and blue flowering trees.

Moretta was a small town, smaller
than Bardonico. It reminded her of the less well-known hill towns in Tuscany,
except for the snow-covered mountains toward the north. It definitely didn’t
look like a tourist resort. A few older men and women were strolling through
the narrow streets. She passed a school and heard children laughing and playing
in the schoolyard. She didn’t spot any hotels. In the center of the town, she
parked her car next to the post office. She hoped someone there might know
something about a present or former resident of the town by the name of Danilo
Pedrotti.

The young woman at the counter
looked at the photo and shook her head. “He does not look familiar, but I have
not been here long. Let me ask my supervisor.” She waved at an older man, who
stepped up to the window and listened to the postal worker. He gave Sofia a
stern look, then spoke in broken English.

“
Signora
, we cannot give
out private information about a resident.” He turned to his employee and said a
few words in Italian that sounded like an admonishment.

“He is a relative of my family.”
Sofia tried again. “We lost touch with him, but he sent this from here.” She
handed the man the envelope with the Moretta postmark on it.

He looked at it. “That was a long
time ago.” He shook his head and stepped back, ignoring Sofia. The young woman
gave her an apologetic smile.

“Thanks for trying,” Sofia said,
feeling sorry for her. She hoped she wouldn’t get into trouble with her boss.
Disappointed, Sofia stepped outside. She looked around, then glanced at the
distant mountain chain. She put up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.
What
now
?

“You must be American,” a voice
said next to her.

Sofia turned her head and looked
into the blue eyes of a woman she had noticed standing in line inside the post
office. She must have been in her forties or fifties and had short blond hair.
Tall and slim, a shopping bag in hand, she looked at Sofia expectantly.

“Yes I am,” Sofia said. “You sound
American, too. From New York?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, I guess
you never lose that accent. I’ve lived here for several years. What about you?”

“I’m just visiting. I’m from
California, but I have some property in Tuscany. So I’m here quite frequently,”
Sofia explained.

“I’m sorry, but I overheard you
asking about a relative of yours in the post office. Danilo Pedrotti, right?”
The woman’s sharp eyes studied her with intensity.

“Yes.” Sofia’s heart jumped. “You
know him?”

“I used to know him.”

“My God, what a coincidence. I
almost gave up hope. Do you know where he is?”

“Why don’t we go to the coffee
shop over there?” The woman pointed at a coffee bar across the street. “We can
talk there. By the way, I’m Miriam.”

“Sofia. Yes, let’s do that.” Sofia
felt excited. Whenever she was about to lose hope, someone emerged who knew or
had met her great-uncle.

“I met Danilo about eight years ago
when I first moved here,” Miriam said after Sofia explained to her why she was
looking for him. She didn’t tell her that Angelo had changed his name or what
happened in California. She wanted to get to know the woman a little better
before revealing possibly damaging information about him.

“We ran into each other at one of
the vineyards in the area. I had just moved to Moretta after an ugly divorce. I
wanted to get away from everything back home.” Miriam tucked a strand of hair
behind her ear. “At first, I was quite lonely. I didn’t know Italian very well
and it took me quite a while to get to know people.”

Miriam shrugged. “You know,
Italians have the reputation of being very hospitable, but that’s only partly
true. In small villages and towns such as this one,”—she pointed at the old
stone houses around the
piazza
—“people can be quite standoffish, even
distrustful of foreigners. Anyway, after a while I made some friends and I’m
very happy here.

“But back to Danilo. When I got
here first, I went on a tour of one of the vineyards in the area. My
grandfather had a vineyard in New York State, so I’ve always been interested in
the whole process of winemaking.”

“How interesting,” Sofia said. “My
husband and I and the rest of the family have vineyards in California.”

“Yes, Danilo told me that his
family owned an estate,” Miriam said. “Anyway, he was one of the guides for the
English speaking guests at the vineyard. Most of the people in my group were
from England and Australia. I was one of the few Americans, and somehow we
started talking. After the tour was finished, Danilo had a break and we chatted
for a while. He invited me to have lunch at the restaurant on the property. So,
that’s how it started.”

“Did you see him again? How was
he?” Sofia wanted to know.

“Yes, we kept seeing each other.
It was such a relief to find a fellow countryman here with whom I had many
things in common—language, an interest in vineyards, and so on. And he was kind
and charming. We became a pair for a while.” Miriam gave a wistful smile.

“How was he?” Miriam sighed. “He
was very secretive about his personal life. He told me that he had had family
trouble back in California, but he didn’t want to talk about it. I understood.
I felt the same way about my problems back home. We needed to move on, so I
didn’t push him. But there were other things. He didn’t mingle easily with
people. He had been in Italy for over ten years, spoke Italian fluently, but he
didn’t have many friends. He seemed distrustful, as if he had been hurt or
betrayed.” Miriam’s expression was quizzical.

Sofia was trying to decide if she
should tell her what happened back home when Miriam continued.

“I asked him a few times, but he
said there was nothing. I tried to believe him but …” Miriam glanced at Sofia,
then looked across the
piazza
. “One day, Danilo told me that he was
seriously thinking of becoming a Benedictine monk.”

“Oh, yes? That’s what Don Ambrosio
hinted at.” Sofia told Miriam about her meeting the priest. “He told me the
same thing about him, that he was withdrawn, distrustful, and that he was
interested in the religious life.”

“Yes, and that was the beginning
of the end of our relationship.” Miriam lifted her hand, then let it drop into
her lap. “I knew then that we had no future together. It wasn’t that we ever
talked about getting married or anything. He told me that his wife had died and
I mentioned my divorce. We were both kind of damaged goods when it came to
marriage and relationships. However, I really began to care for him deeply and
I thought the feeling was mutual. When he mentioned his thoughts about joining
a monastery, I knew that I would not play a role in his future.” She paused.
“We parted amiably and stayed friends. Until one day, five years ago, when he
disappeared without saying goodbye or anything. I was shocked … and hurt.”

It was quiet for a while; both
women sipped their coffee. Sofia took a deep breath and told Miriam about the
name change.

Miriam stared at her. “Why did he
do that?”

“I don’t know all of the reasons,
but that’s what happened and that’s why we’re trying to find him.” Sofia told
Miriam about Angelo’s past and the fact that he may have been involved in some
illegal activities, that he witnessed a crime, that the criminal knew he had
seen him, and that this probably is the reason he disappeared and changed his
name.

Miriam put her hand on Sofia’s
arm. “Thank you for telling me. It makes me feel better about his sudden
flight. I was hurt that he didn’t confide in me. But at least he must have had
a reason to disappear.” She ran her hand through her hair. “Want another cup of
coffee? They have some nice pastries here. My treat.” Miriam called the
waitress.

“Thank you very much,” Sofia said.
“If you give me your address or phone number, I can let you know what happens.
And, in case you remember something more, here is my cell phone number and
email address.”

They exchanged contact information
and continued to talk, sipping espresso and eating delicious fruit tarts.

“So the last time you saw Angelo
was five years ago?” Sofia asked.

Miriam nodded. “Yes.”

Sofia sighed. “I don’t know what
to do next now.” She gazed across the plaza. “Do you know if there is a
Benedictine monastery nearby? If Angelo was serious about joining, they may
know something.”

“In fact, there is. It’s about
five miles from here. Just drive out of town, turn left, and follow the road.
It’s up on a hill to the right, you can’t miss it.” Miriam drank the last of
her coffee, then glanced at her watch. “Where are you going to stay?”

Sofia shrugged. “Gee, I don’t
really know. Is there a hotel in this town? I didn’t see anything coming in. I
also need to get back to Pavone. I’m staying with a friend there.”

“It’ll take you about an hour and
a half from here back to Pavone. But if you want to stay here for the night,
you can stay with me. I live five minutes from here.”

“That’s so nice of you. I really
should get back, though. I want to check out the monastery and if I see that it
gets too late, I would love to come back to your offer. If that’s okay with
you?”

“Absolutely. I have no plans
tonight. Just give me a call or come by. Here is where I live.” Miriam drew a
map on her paper napkin and wrote down her phone number. “It’s right around the
corner, easy to find.”

Miriam got up and the two hugged.
“It’s great to meet a fellow countrywoman. I really hope you find Dan … Angelo.
I was heartbroken when he disappeared and I have to admit, I’m still angry at
him. But I hope he’s okay.”

“Yes, I hope so, too,” Sofia said.
They both went outside. Miriam waved as she walked away. When Sofia approached
her car, she was shocked to see a blue Honda again, parked two cars away from
her. There was a man in it. He had dark hair, a fleshy face, and scrutinized
her with a hostile look. Her heart clenched.