Finding Angelo (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 2) (13 page)

A man stepped outside and Sofia inhaled sharply. She
recognized the features. He was tall, not as tall as Grandpa Martin, somewhat
more solidly built but still trim. His curly hair was almost all white. He
sported a short but full gray beard. He wore jeans and a red-and-black
checkered work shirt. From where she stood she didn’t see his face clearly
enough, but he looked about Martin’s age, although he was ten years younger. He
began to walk toward the car, then looked in their direction, stopped short,
and stared at them.

“Danilo?” Miriam said. She began
to walk toward him and Sofia followed. “Or should I say, Angelo?”

Angelo continued to stare, his
dark sharp eyes narrowed. His face was wrinkled, worn with care and worries,
most likely. “Miriam? What are you doing here?”

“Well, hello to you, too,” Miriam
said, her voice gruff.

The two women had reached the
front yard and entered. Angelo was walking toward them, his face one big
question mark. He now faced Sofia.

“Hello, Uncle Angelo,” she said.

“Who are you?” The tone was friendly,
but he measured her with a scowl.

“I am Sofia Segantino, your
great-niece by marriage. Nicholas is my husband.”

“Nicholas … my God.” He looked and
scanned the area. “Are you alone?”

They nodded.

“Well you better come inside.”
Angelo opened the door to the cottage again.

They stepped into a modest,
austere but tidy living room. The sitting area in front of a fireplace
consisted of a sofa, covered by a patchwork quilt, two easy chairs and a coffee
table. On the mantelpiece above the fireplace stood a few framed photos. In
another corner was a sturdy-looking dining table with a few chairs. On one of
the walls hung a sepia picture of a monk, St. Benedict, perhaps. Through an
open door Sofia saw a small kitchen. Another door standing ajar led into what must
have been the bedroom.

“Please sit.” Angelo pointed at
the easy chairs and the sofa. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee or
tea?”

“We have some sandwiches for a
picnic. May we share them with you?” Sofia asked.

“Thank you, perhaps later.” Angelo
glanced at Sofia, his eyes more gentle now.

“Coffee sounds good,” Miriam said.
“And I guess I’ll call you Angelo from now on.” There was a bitter tone in her
voice.

“I’m sorry, Miriam. I didn’t mean
to lie to you.”

“Well, you did lie. You obviously
didn’t trust me enough to tell me who you really are.” Her voice trembled.

Sofia was getting worried that the
two would end up having an argument, but Angelo shook his head. “I felt I had
no choice. Knowing me, the real me, would’ve put you in danger as well.”

“We always have a choice …
Angelo,” Miriam said. “But that can wait. There are more important things now.
Sofia came all the way from California to find you.”

Angelo faced Sofia. “How is the
family? How is Martin … Maria … Robert and the rest?”

“They’re fine,” Sofia assured him.
“Everybody is healthy. And they all miss you very much.”

“I’ll make the coffee while you
tell him,” Miriam said. “Is that okay?”

Angelo nodded. “The coffee is in
the cabinet above the sink. The pot is on the stove. I can make it.”

“That’s okay. You just listen.”
Miriam got up and went into the kitchen.

Angelo gave a quick smile as he
watched Miriam, then faced Sofia again. “How in heaven did you find me?”

Sofia told him about her and
Nicholas’s trip to New York and the envelope postmarked in Bardonico. She
explained she was traveling to Tuscany anyway and hoped to be able to find
something about his whereabouts. “It turned out easier than I expected. I met
Don Ambrosio in Bardonico, showed him an old photo of you and he recognized
you. But he also said that the man in the picture was a Danilo Pedrotti.”

Angelo shook his head. “I knew one
day it would catch up with me. How is Don Ambrosio?”

“He’s fine. He too wants to know
how you are. And he showed me another envelope of a letter you sent him with
the rental check. It was mailed in Moretta. So I drove to Moretta and happened
to run into Miriam.” Sofia lifted her hands. “The rest is history.”

“My God, you are quite the
detective.” Angelo seemed impressed. “But why did you want to find me? Why all
of a sudden after twenty years, my family wants to find me?”

“Well, you obviously didn’t want
to be found. I mean you disappeared and left no forwarding address.”

“I did let them know I was okay a
few times,” Angelo said. “I was in such a mess, I didn’t think Martin and the
rest of the family wanted anything to do with me anymore. And I can’t blame
them. But the real reason I disappeared had nothing to do with the family …
well, I take that back. It had to do with them. I wanted to protect them.” Angelo
hesitated. “It’s a long story. But still … why now? Why did you want to find me
now?”

Miriam came into the room with a
pot of coffee and cups. Angelo got up and brought a jug of milk, a bowl of
sugar, and a plate with cookies.

Miriam poured the coffee. Angelo
took a sip, then set down his cup. “Why now?” He asked again.

Sofia exhaled deeply. “Something
happened a few weeks ago.” She told him about the bones in the field and the
fact that they belonged to his friend, Fred Leonardi.

Angelo paled. He stared at Sofia,
then covered his face with his hands. “Damn it,” he mumbled.

Was he shocked that they found the
evidence after all this time? Was Angelo the killer after all? Or was he upset
about his friend’s death?

“The bastard killed him.” Angelo’s
voice trembled. He looked up and Sofia saw despair in his eyes.

“Who? Who killed him?” Sofia whispered.

“I guess there’s no use hiding it
any longer,” Angelo murmured. “Fred and I worked for his cousin, Anton
Leonardi. We witnessed him killing another person.”

“Anton is the cousin of our
neighbor Frank, from whom we bought the property,” Sofia explained to Miriam.

“Yes.” Angelo brought his hand to
his forehead. “Anton and the other guy got into a violent argument and Anton
shot him. We got the impression that this other guy was some sort of a rival of
Anton, some higher up in a crime syndicate. Anton saw us. He knew we had seen
him. We ran away and decided to disappear separately.”

“Why not go to the police?” Miriam
asked.

“First of all, we knew or at least
suspected that what we did was illegal,” Angelo said. “We were drivers for this
so-called trucking company. I think it was a front for their illegal
activities. We transported material from one place to another, handed it over,
and waited for the next load. The pay was good, so we didn’t ask any questions.
I was really messed up at the time.

“But the main reason was we were
terrified. Anton is a powerful member of several organizations. We knew that.
He is wealthy and influential. Who do you think the cops would’ve believed? A
powerful member of society or two lowlifes like us? And who knows which members
of the police were paid off by him.”

“But the investigator told us that
Anton had been in jail once. They would’ve known he wasn’t the respectable member
of society he pretended,” Sofia said.

Angelo lifted his shoulders. “That
doesn’t mean anything. Yes, he was known to not always follow the letter of the
law, but as far as I know, he got away with it most of the time. He was in jail
for a short time once, got off on good behavior. The fact is, he was and
probably still is a powerful person with a lot of friends who are paid off by
him.”

Miriam shook her head. “But that
sounds like some kind of Godfather movie. Surely, the police are not all
corrupt.”

Angelo narrowed his eyes. “I wish
I had your positive attitude toward authorities. Unfortunately, I had some
experiences that made me a little more cynical. Anyway, Fred and I decided to
lay low for a while. That ‘little while’ turned into years.”

“But twenty years, Angelo? Why did
you never contact the family?” Sofia asked.

“I didn’t want to involve them. I
was afraid they were going to try to find us. The farther away I was from the
family, the less they were affected. At least that’s what I hoped.” He hesitated.
“Also, I was ashamed. Martin had helped me out so many times, and I betrayed
him again and again. And then my wife died and it was my fault, really. I was
on my last leg. I had enough money saved up to live for a while. I wanted to
get away as far as possible from everything.” His voice sounded hoarse.

It was quiet for a while. Angelo
sat bent over staring at the floor.

“Why don’t we eat something. This
is going to be a long confession.” Miriam put her hand on Angelo’s shoulder.
“We need some sustenance.”

“Good idea,” Angelo said.

Sofia unpacked the sandwiches and
Miriam brought some plates from the kitchen. Angelo got up and slowly walked
into the kitchen, slightly hunched over. He seemed to have aged in the last ten
minutes. He came back with glasses and a jug of water and three bottles of
lemonade. “That’s all I have.” He put the bottles on the table.

“I love those.” Sofia pointed at
the lemonade. “But I’m fine with water. I don’t want to drink you out of house
and home.”

Angelo shook his head. “No problem.
There are grocery stores in town. I can get more. I just didn’t expect any
visitors.”

They ate in silence. Angelo
nibbled on his sandwich but didn’t seem very hungry. Sofia had time to observe
him more carefully. She still saw Grandpa Martin in his features, but there was
something else. Whereas Martin had soft brown eyes, Angelo’s eyes were almost
black and piercing. His demeanor was quiet, withdrawn, and serious. Martin was
serious as well but had a dry sense of humor. Angelo seemed to lack that kind
of humor, at least Sofia hadn’t seen any evidence of it. Then again, there
hadn’t been much of a chance for humor.

They finished their sandwich and
Angelo asked if they wanted more coffee. “I’ll make some. Just relax,” Miriam
said.

Sofia wondered how well Miriam was
holding up. She must be devastated by Angelo’s confession and the fact that he
had withheld all this from her.

“What made you decide to live in
Italy?” Sofia asked him.

Angelo took a sip of water and
looked down at his hands. He turned them over and checked his palms. “I wanted
to see if I could find someone on my father’s side. Our father died when I was
three. My whole life I’ve wanted to find out more about him. Giuseppe in New
York gave me the address of a friend of my father who was still alive. This
man, he’s dead now, helped me out in the beginning. He provided me with a false
identity, papers, and all that.” Angelo chortled. “Obviously, I was not the
only one who lived a less than honorable life and skirted the law.”

“The investigator told us that
they found out that you renewed your American passport twice, under your real
name obviously,” Sofia said.

Angelo nodded. “Yes, in the back
of my mind I always wanted to return one day. I love Italy and the few friends
I made here. They gave me the opportunity to turn my life around. But I often
missed my family, my country. I felt bad for abandoning them.”

“You know they’re looking for you
in California,” Sofia said. “Ever since they found the skeleton in our field.”

“Am I a suspect in his murder?”
Angelo asked. He didn’t sound worried or shocked.

“The last I heard they want you
for questioning,” Sofia said. “By the way, they don’t know you’re here under a
false name. They may suspect it, but they wouldn’t know your fake name … I
haven’t told anyone.”

Angelo looked at her surprised.
“Why not? You’re withholding pertinent information.”

Sofia raised an eyebrow. “Not as
pertinent as your information of twenty years ago about a murder.”

“I guess so.” His eyes showed a
humorous spark. So he had a sense of humor, too, just like his brother. “You
should tell them. Well, actually, I need to tell them. I need to go back. I
need to help the police clear this up and I need to clear my name. I just have
to take care of a few things beforehand. I need to inform the abbot at
Novalesa, and I need to find someone to take over my classes. I can’t just
abandon the kids.”

“Would there be someone who could
fill in for you?” Miriam asked. She’d been very quiet the whole time, but she
seemed composed.

“I have someone in mind. We take
turns, and he is very good and the children like him.”

“If you need help while you’re
away, let me know,” Miriam said matter-of-factly.

Angelo turned to her. “Thank you.
Perhaps check on the cabin occasionally? You could use it for vacation.”

“I wouldn’t mind checking on the
cottage. But staying here? No, it would be too painful. It would remind me of
the good times we had together, before you just up and left.” Now, Miriam
sounded bitter.

Angelo lowered his gaze. “I’m
really sorry, Miriam.”

“Well, you should be.”

Sofia felt the two should have
some private time. She got up. “Would you mind if I looked around outside? It’s
such a gorgeous place.”

“Go ahead,” Angelo said. “There is
a short path to the left of the cabin. It leads to a pond. Very pretty. Just
don’t wander off too far.”

“I won’t. I’ll see you in a
while.” Miriam gave her a weak smile that seemed to say “thank you.” Sofia went
outside and took a deep breath. It had cooled off a little outside, and in the
sky behind the forest, heaps of dark clouds were forming.

Sofia walked along the path
through a forest of mainly light-green birches and a few stone pines. There was
the sound of a spring and after about two hundred yards, the woods opened onto
a meadow and a small pond bordered by reeds and bushes. It smelled of moss and
some kind of herb she didn’t recognize. She sat down on a rock next to the pond
and listened to a concert of birds tweeting all around her.