Finding Angelo (The Wine Lover's Daughter, Book 2) (3 page)

Sofia was sorting through a box of
kitchenware and utensils Maria had left her. Since Sofia and Nicholas had lived
in a small apartment for the last few years, they hadn’t accumulated too many
things and were now grateful for a few hand-me-downs from the grandparents.

A couple of months ago, they had
moved into the charming old house that belonged to Martin and Maria. Several
members of the Segantino family had lived in the house over the years. Sofia
loved their new place, particularly the added space.

It was a rustic home with hardwood
floors and wooden beams, a so-called half-timbered house, a style that was well
known in northern areas of Europe, Germany and Switzerland, for instance. It
had been built by an architect who was a relative of Maria’s. Nicholas’s
grandmother was of German background and had always wanted a house in that
style. As a child, she had spent many of her vacations with her German relatives
on a farm in the Black Forest region and had fallen in love with the farmhouses
there.

Sofia was admiring a colorful
ceramic cake plate when a gust of wind rattled the window. It had rained off
and on the past couple of days. The rain during the winter and early spring was
only making a dent in the drought that had plagued California for several
years. It wasn’t enough to fill the diminishing reservoirs, but it was a good
beginning.

The drought worried not just the
government officials who tried to get control of the water shortage by means of
a few controversial restrictions. Farmers, winemakers, and the tourist industry
all agreed that something had to be done but had different opinions as to how
the problem was going to be solved. There had been some acrimonious exchanges
between the different factions of the otherwise peaceful communities in the
drought-stricken Central Coast of California. Some people blamed the
proliferation of vineyards in the area for the water shortage. Members of the
wine industry, however, felt the blame was one-sided and unfair. According to
the vintners, vines and grapes needed little water during the growing season,
much less than for instance alfalfa and almonds, and they needed almost nothing
when the grapes were ripening. Sofia agreed with the vintners but also felt
that the increasing number of huge vineyards added to the problem.

Sofia carried a box downstairs,
unpacked the dishes and towels, and put them away. She and Nicholas wanted to
convert the den upstairs into an office. Adjacent to it was a storage room with
a few pieces of old furniture that belonged to Martin and Maria as well as a
collection of boxes of items left by several members of the family who had
lived in the house over the years. Sofia wanted to pull out the lighter boxes
and put them downstairs, so the owners could pick them up or discard them. A
few of the boxes were labeled and some were unmarked. She went upstairs again
and opened one without a label to find out who it belonged to.

On top in the box was a framed
photograph of a man, perhaps in his thirties or early forties. Sofia thought
first that it was Martin. At closer examination, however, she saw that it
wasn’t him. The man in the picture had piercing dark eyes while Martin’s eyes
were a soft honey-brown just like Nicholas’s. Sofia gave a quick gasp and her
heartbeat increased as she realized that it must be Angelo, the lost brother,
and that the box belonged to him or to his wife Elvira.

Sofia stared at the photo for a
while. “Where are you, Uncle Angelo?” she whispered. “What have you done? Are
you still alive? Are you guilty? Or just afraid?” Sofia knew from experience
how a dark secret can hurt and even ruin a family.

She put the photo aside and began
to browse through the rest of the stuff. There wasn’t much, a pile of envelopes
held together with a rubber band, a blouse, jacket, and a skirt, things that
belonged to a woman. At the very bottom, hidden under a blanket, was a notebook
or diary. It reminded Sofia of the diary she’d had as a child, but this looked
more as if it belonged to an adult. It was of dark-blue leather and had a
golden lock. Sofia checked to see if there was a key somewhere but couldn’t
find one.

Outside, the wind picked up again.
A slamming door downstairs startled Sofia. Then she heard Nicholas’s voice.

“Darn it. It sure blows, knocked
the door right out of my hand. Where are you?”

“Up here,” Sofia called back.
“Come and look.”

After a moment, she heard his
footsteps on the stairs. Nicholas was back from working at the winery together
with his grandfather.

He kissed her on the head and
knelt down next to her. “What’s this?” He pointed at the box.

“I’m cleaning out the storage room
and I found a box that seems to belong to Elvira or Angelo. Most likely Elvira,
since these are women’s clothes.” She picked up the notebook and handed it to
Nicholas. “This was in it.”

He took it from her and turned it
around. “Is there a key?”

“No, I didn’t find one,” Sofia
said.

“I’m sure it’s easy to break
open.” Nicholas began to fiddle with the lock.

“Shouldn’t we ask Grandpa and
Grandma first? It doesn’t belong to us.”

Nicholas stood up. “If it belongs
to Elvira, it may be important. It may say something about Angelo. Of course,
we’ll give it to Grandpa. But let me see if I have something to open it without
breaking the lock.”

Nicholas went downstairs and came
back up with a tiny screwdriver with a thin blade. He stuck it into the keyhole
of the diary, jiggling it a little. After a few attempts, the lock sprung open.
“Not much of a security device,” he murmured.

He opened the book and began to
page through it with Sofia peering over his shoulder. They read the first
entry, then glanced at each other, stunned.

“It does belong to Elvira,”
Nicholas said. “And here she writes something about Angelo.” He handed the
diary to Sofia.

“My God,” Nicholas said. “This may
tell us something about what happened back then,” Nicholas said. “You’re right,
we better tell Grandpa and Grandma. What else was in the box?”

Sofia looked up. “A photo, I think
it’s of Angelo. And a bunch of envelopes. Must be letters.”

Nicholas examined the photo. “Yes,
this is Great-Uncle Angelo. Wow. That’s how I remember him. He had these black
eyes that seemed to burn you when he was angry. Fortunately, he wasn’t angry a
lot, at least not at me. I liked him.” Nicholas smiled. “I hope he’s still
alive and okay. I’d love to see him again.”

Sofia pulled out the bundle of
envelopes. The rubber band broke when she tried to pull it off. It was
obviously old. She opened one of the envelopes. There was a piece of paper in
it, a letter. Sofia began to read, then stopped. “These must be letters from
Angelo to Elvira. Look at the signature and the date.”

“Oh, my … this was in 1988, you’re
right, this is from Angelo. Let’s take this to Grandpa and Grandma.” Nicholas
looked at his watch. “They’re probably having lunch.”

“Definitely my brother.” Martin stared at the photo. “This
must have been before they got married. He still had longish hair. He cut it
short later.” He handed the photo to Maria and picked up the diary, paging
through it. Maria looked over his shoulder. Nicholas and Sofia stood next to
her. Sofia leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse.

“Boy, this is amazing. Thanks for
finding this.” Martin glanced at Sofia. “This may be a treasure … not in the
usual sense, but it may help us find out what happened to Angelo.

“I’ll read the diary and then you
can have it as well. We also have to give it to George Silver.” Martin opened
the book again and began to read quietly.

Sofia hoped he was a fast reader.
She was really curious about the diary.

“Well here is something.” Martin
raised his head. “As I suspected, my no-good brother was involved with a bunch
of criminals.”

Maria sighed. She had hoped her husband would find something
positive in the diary, but that had been wishful thinking. She felt sorry for
him, knowing that he was torn between love for his brother, sadness at having
lost him, and disappointment in him and the way he had conducted himself.

Martin slapped the diary on the
table. He looked upset. “This is going to be difficult reading.” He paged
through the book. “Fortunately, it’s not too long. I should be able to finish
it today or tomorrow, and then you can have it.” He picked up the book again
and kept on reading for a little while. Then, to everybody’s surprise, he
handed it to Maria and Sofia.

“Go ahead. You two read it first.
I don’t have the stomach for it today.” He got up and walked to the window.

“Well, Sofia and I were going to
do a little work at the winery,” Nicholas said.

“Come on, I’ll help you.” Martin
put a hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “I can’t sit still right now. Let the ladies
do the reading.”

“Okay, Grandpa, if you don’t mind,”
Nicholas said. “I just want to take a tour through the vineyards to make sure
everything is okay.”

“Thanks, guys,” Sofia said. “I
really want to read this, and I’m sure Grandma is curious, too.”

Maria nodded. “Yes, let’s read it
together. We’ll take turns and read it out loud.”

Nicholas and Martin left and the
two women poured themselves another cup of coffee.

“Why don’t you start,” Sofia said
and handed Maria the book. Maria began to read silently. “This is just everyday
stuff, nothing alarming,” she said. After a few pages, she looked up. “Here is
something.” She read out loud.

Yesterday, Angelo and Fred were out all night again.
Working for Fred’s cousin, Angelo said. They have been gone a lot lately.
Angelo never gives me any details about this so-called work. He just says that
they work for Anton’s trucking company, delivering goods. Why at night? And why
can’t he tell me what kind of goods? When I ask questions, Angelo says to stop
worrying, that the money is good and we can certainly use it. I told him we
have enough money with what he makes on his jobs and my salary and benefits.
Whenever I mention my work, he gets angry. He tells me he doesn’t want to live
off my money. What an outdated attitude. He is such a male chauvinist
sometimes. What’s wrong with the woman making more money? It makes me mad. And
I’m really worried.

I’m worried that he’s involved
in something bad. I know about his past, about his juvenile record in New York.
I’m afraid he’s picked up those bad habits again.

“Stupid male pride,” Maria said,
irritated. “He wanted to be the bread-winner, but he didn’t want to do the
heavy work of a legal job. Martin and even Robert and his family gave him so
many chances. But no, he wanted the fast money, no matter where it came from.
Disgusting.” She put the book down and glanced at the meadow in front of their
house.

“It must have been so hard for
Elvira,” Maria continued. “She was a wonderful person and she really loved
Angelo. That’s what made us so angry at him. After messing up so badly, he met
this woman and he had the most wonderful luck. And then he went ahead and
ruined it again. And her in the process.” She picked up the diary again and
gave it to Sofia.

Sofia smoothed the page, and began
to read.

I confronted him again about his being out at night. I
asked him if he was having an affair. He seemed genuinely shocked. He told me
no, that I should know he loved only me. “Then why all the secrecy?” I asked
him. He said he couldn’t talk about it, that it would put me in danger, but he
assured me it had nothing to do with another woman.

At this point, the entries stopped
for a while. The next entry was a few weeks later. It was more disturbing news.

Angelo told me that during one of the jobs delivering
goods, they witnessed a crime. A man was shot. The killer saw them. Angelo
didn’t tell me who the killer was.

I was terrified. I asked Angelo
why they didn’t go to the police. He said they couldn’t. They wouldn’t believe
him. The killer was a powerful man. And the work Angelo and Fred did was
illegal. They didn’t know it at first but found out later. So if they went to the
police they would end up in jail as well.

Maria lifted an eyebrow. “They
didn’t know it was illegal? A likely story. Of course they knew.” She took over
the reading again.

Then who was it? I asked him. Was it Anton? He said he
had already told me too much. He warned me not to tell anybody about this. If I
did, I and the whole family could be in danger. He also told me that he might
have to disappear for a while and to not worry about him.

But I’m so worried. I wish I
could tell somebody.

That was the last entry in the diary. Sofia and Maria looked
at each other stunned.

“Too bad, Elvira didn’t find out
who the killer was,” Maria said.

Sofia closed the diary. “We
definitely have to give this to the investigator.”

“Give what to the investigator?”

Maria flinched at the booming,
angry voice. She and Sofia turned. Frank Leonardi stood in the doorway.

“I knocked and nobody answered. I
heard voices. The door was open.” He entered and stood next to Maria, his heavyset
body looming over her.

Maria glared at Frank. “You still
could’ve tried a little harder to get our attention. You don’t just barge into
somebody’s house.”

“Yeah, especially when the people
inside do something illegal.”

Maria’s anger flared at Frank’s
rude behavior and his accusations. “We haven’t done anything illegal.

“What’s that?” He pointed at the
diary.

“This is something we’re going to
give to George Silver,” Maria said.

“I want to see it. Give it to me.”
Frank’s voice sounded threatening.

“You’ll get it in time.” Martin
stood in the doorway next to Nicholas. “Now please leave and never talk to my
wife and great-niece like that again.”

“This isn’t over with.” Frank
shoved past them and stormed outside.

“You’re damn right, this isn’t
over with,” Martin called after him in an unusually loud voice. He let himself
fall into a chair. “I’ve had it with that guy.”