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

by Christa Polkinhorn

  “Yes, that’s where I met Nicholas. But that’s another long story. I want to know more about you now. I think I deserve it after having tracked you down.”

  Angelo gave a quick smile. “Okay, as I mentioned, Giuseppe gave me an address of a friend of my father in the Piedmont. I had some savings, so I bought a plane ticket and left. The guy, a very old man by then—he died a couple of years later—arranged for some fake documentation for me.”

  “That’s how you became Danilo Pedrotti?” Miriam asked.

  “Yes. I was afraid that Anton was going to try to track me down. The first five years, I lived in different places in the Piedmont, doing mainly seasonal work. Then someone I worked for told me about a place in the mountains where I might be able to get more steady work. Since it was a tourist resort and I spoke English, I might be able to find a job as a tour guide or something similar. He also knew someone who lived in Bardonico and might be able to help me get work. Anyway, I thought I’d give it a try. As it turned out, there wasn’t anything of that sort available. There weren’t enough English-speaking tourists. Fortunately though, I found Don Ambrosio, who needed an assistant.”

  “The priest whom I met as well,” Sofia added.

  “Yes. And he was one of the people who truly helped me turn my life around. He asked me to help around the church and became something like a mentor to me. I’ve never considered myself religious.” Angelo scratched his beard. “And with the life I’ve led, I certainly didn’t think that God looked kindly on me. Don Ambrosio helped me realize that I could always start new, that God would forgive me if I truly repented.”

  “Is that when you decided to become a monk?” Sofia asked.

  “Well, no, not right away. I wasn’t ready for a truly religious life. But being around him and watching him, the way he always helped someone in need without making a big deal out of it. How he lived a simple life, worked hard without much compensation. It made a big impression on me. See, since childhood I’ve shunned responsibility. I wanted things without working for them. But when I came to Italy, all I wanted was peace. I longed for peace, and sitting with Don Ambrosio in that chapel, I found it … at least for a while.”

  “And then what happened?” Miriam asked.

  “In Bardonico, I met Fabio, the acquaintance of my former employer, and we became friends. Not close friends. I was somewhat leery of him. I sensed something not quite right. But before I met Don Ambrosio, I was pretty lonely.” He shrugged. “So anybody who would share a beer and a chat with me was better than spending all my time after work in my tiny room. Once I began working for Don Ambrosio, he let me stay in an apartment next to the church. I also got busy, and so Fabio and I didn’t hang out that much anymore. Besides, he got promoted in the police department.”

  “Police department?” Sofia asked. “Was he a cop?”

  Angelo nodded. “Yes.”

  Sofia opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her head was spinning. “Oh, my God.”

  “What?” Angelo scrutinized her.

  “Was he the man you had an argument with and then left the following day?”

  Angelo stared at her. “Yes. How do you know that?”

  “Darn.” Sofia put her hand on her forehead. She tried to figure out what this meant. “When I met Don Ambrosio … well, before I met him, when I first came to Bardonico, I went to the police department.”

  “Why?” Angelo glared at her.

  “Well, the only information I had was the letter from Bardonico. I figured if you stayed there for some time, perhaps the police would know.”

  “Okay.” Angelo’s voice was guarded.

  “The officers sent me to a higher-up. I asked him about you and showed him an old photo of you.”

  Angelo groaned. “Let me guess. You told him my real name.”

  Sofia nodded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay. Go on.” Angelo fixed her with his black eyes.”

  “He claimed not to know you, but he was hostile, and I had the feeling he was lying.”

  “Oh, yes. He knew then that I was using a fake name,” Angelo said quietly. “But how did you know about the argument?”

  Sofia told him about Don Ambrosio’s phone call to her, that the policeman had seen her go to the priest and that he wanted to know what they talked about. “He yelled at Don Ambrosio, and the priest recognized the voice from the argument you had the night before you disappeared.”

  Angelo closed his eyes and lifted his hand to his forehead, rubbing it.

  “I’m sorry, Uncle Angelo,” Sofia said.

  “It’s okay,” he said after a short pause. “You didn’t know. I knew it would come out one day. It just means, it’s even more urgent now that I leave and somehow return to California. I’m not safe here anymore.”

  “But why? So the cop knows that you used a fake name. But you’re gone. He doesn’t know where you are,” Miriam said.

  “He is determined to find me, and eventually he will. The pieces of the puzzle are beginning to fall into place,” Angelo muttered.

  “What pieces of the puzzle?” Miriam asked.

  Chapter 31

  Angelo got up and walked to the window. He sat on the window ledge, and faced Sofia and Miriam.

  “Fabio—the policeman you talked to—came by one day and made me an offer. He told me he was working for a man in the United States who imported small but precious art objects from Italy. They were looking for someone who would take them on the plane and hand them over at the airport in Chicago. Someone would meet me there, and I would deliver the goods to him. Payment was generous and included a round trip plane ticket and a night in a hotel near the airport.”

  Angelo sneered. “The whole thing sounded fishy, of course, and reminded me of the illegal transportation deals Fred and I made in California. I asked Fabio why he didn’t do it himself. He told me they needed a trustworthy American citizen who could fly in and out of the United States undetected. I told him I would need to know who I was dealing with in the United States, that this sounded dangerous and illegal. He said he didn’t know who the person was. He knew only that his employer was someone in Chicago. The person who’d offered him the job referred to the man as Cricket. Now, I knew who I was dealing with. Cricket was the code name for Anton Leonardi.”

  “Fred and Frank Leonardi’s cousin,” Sofia said.

  Angelo nodded. “Yes. I warned Fabio, told him I knew the man in Chicago, that he was a dangerous criminal and that Fabio should stay away from him. Fabio at first seemed shocked and said he was going to check it out. I hoped he would come to his senses. See, Fabio is one of those underpaid Italian policemen. He constantly complained about the working conditions. He had a family to support, and I understood that he was tempted by easy money. I also knew what can happen if you get involved in such illegal crap.”

  Angelo sighed. “I now wish I hadn’t warned him and just refused the offer, because what followed forced me to disappear again. A few days later, Fabio came back and confronted me, saying that he had trusted me and now he regretted having told me anything.

  “I told him I wasn’t going to betray him. As far as I was concerned, he’d made me an offer and I had turned it down. The rest was up to him. But I warned him again that Cricket or Anton Leonardi was not to be trifled with. Then he yelled at me and said that he knew I was hiding here. His contact to Cricket, the one who had offered him the job, would be able to find out why I was on the run. Unfortunately, I had hinted at the fact that I’d had some trouble back home, but I hadn’t told him what it was.

  “However, I realized that if Anton found out that somebody from California was hiding in Italy, he may very well put two and two together. He was too close, so I panicked and left.”

  “And when I showed him your photo and told him your real name, that made him even more suspicious. I’m so sorry,” Sofia said.

  “Well, you didn’t know and fortunately, I had disappeared before he found out.”

 
“But why did you disappear when you lived in Moretta?” Miriam asked.

  “I began receiving anonymous and threatening letters,” Angelo said. “I also saw Fabio once in Moretta. I suspected right away that he was the one who sent the letters.”

  Angelo walked over to the sofa and sat down. “The letters also contained veiled threats, suggesting that my close friends were in danger. At that point, I thought about going to the authorities, finally. But which ones? Fabio was with the police after all.” He exhaled deeply. “So I ran again.”

  It was quiet in the room, then Miriam got up. “What a mess.” She sat next to Angelo and put her hand on his. Then she got up. “I just thought of something. What about the blue Honda?”

  “Blue Honda? What blue Honda?” Angelo asked.

  “Oh, yes. I think I was being followed when I left Bardonico for Moretta,” Sofia said. “A blue Honda kept parking close to my car. At first I thought nothing of it. There are tons of blue Hondas, but after a while, I became suspicious. Do you know if the police officer, this Fabio, has a blue Honda?”

  Angelo shook his head. “No. I don’t. But I’ve been gone for a while. It’s possible. For how long did you think you were being followed?”

  Sofia and Miriam looked at each other. “When I first tried to check out the abbey, I saw the car and he followed me to the monastery. I panicked and turned back and on the way back I must have lost him. From then on we used Miriam’s car. My car is hidden in her garage.”

  Angelo’s eyes narrowed. “How did you know it was a man?”

  “I saw him once, just for a brief moment. I know it wasn’t the policeman. It was someone else,” Sofia said.

  “Well, Fabio could’ve sent someone else to follow you. He wouldn’t necessarily do it himself.” Angelo looked pensive. “Once he knew what my real name was and he happened to mention it to the go-between, the man who offered him the job, then Anton may have found out that I was in Italy.”

  “We thought for a quick moment that a blue Honda was parked at the public lot in Rivalta, when we left for the hike. But we really didn’t know. It could’ve been a coincidence. And I’m sure we weren’t followed on the hike,” Miriam said.

  “Well, this is all very disturbing. Tomorrow I’m going to pack a bag, take my passport, and leave. I’ll have to let Abbot Francesco know. Perhaps I can stay at the abbey for a few days until I have the airplane ticket.”

  “Why don’t you come with me to Tuscany?” Sofia suggested. “From there we can call California, the family, and let George Silver know that you want to come back. There is plenty of room at my place and the cop certainly wouldn’t know you’re there.”

  Angelo watched her, thinking. “I just don’t want to get someone else in danger. Your family in Tuscany, for instance.”

  “That won’t happen. We won’t stay there very long. You need to get back, so all this can be cleared up.”

  “I think Sofia has a point, Angelo,” Miriam said.

  Angelo shrugged. “Perhaps, you’re right. I’ll sleep on it.” He looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. If you don’t mind, I’m going to turn in.”

  “Yes, I’m tired too.” Sofia yawned. “You’re sure you don’t mind sleeping on the couch?”

  “Certainly not,” Angelo said.

  Chapter 32

  Sofia woke up from a dream about Nicholas when she heard loud voices. The bedroom lamp on the nightstand was on and Miriam was sitting up in bed.

  “What’s wrong?” Sofia whispered.

  “I don’t know. I think it’s two men and they’re arguing with Angelo.”

  Sofia checked her watch. It was four o’clock in the morning. They both got up and dressed fast. Fortunately, they’d slept in their underwear and T-shirt. The voices got angrier and now Sofia understood part of the argument.

  “Dove sono le donne?” one of the men yelled. “Where are the women?”

  “Sono ritornate, they’ve gone back.” She heard Angelo say. He talked loudly. Was he trying to warn Miriam and herself?

  “We have to hide,” Miriam hissed. She slid her backpack under the bed. Sofia did the same. They pulled the cover over the bed to make it look unused. They grabbed their shoes and checked quickly if anything personal was lying around. Miriam switched off the light, they stepped into the walk-in closet, and closed the door. Just in time.

  The door to the bedroom opened with a bang and someone stepped inside. Sofia held her breath, her knees were shaking. She was sure they were able to hear her heart pound in her chest.

  “Andate, gone,” a male voice said. It sounded familiar to Sofia. The door slammed shut. Miriam carefully slid the closet door open, so they were able to hear better.

  “I think it’s the cop.” Sofia’s heart filled with dread. It was her fault. The guys had followed them all the way to Angelo’s house. She had practically brought them here.

  “You’re dead.” Someone shouted. “We have orders to eliminate you.”

  “Cricket? Or should I say, Anton Leonardi, the mobster?” Angelo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Shut up.” There was a slapping sound.

  Sofia felt a hand on her arm. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?” Miriam whispered.

  “No.” Then a memory rose in Sofia’s mind. Henry, her father, had had a gun. He’d kept it locked up, but one time there had been a few burglaries in the neighborhood. So he’d taken it out, cleaned it, and showed Sofia how to use it. “Just in case,” he’d said.

  “Maybe,” Sofia whispered.

  “There may be a gun in the nightstand. Angelo always used to keep one next to his bed. Loaded.” Miriam gave Sofia a probing look, as if to assess her courage.

  Sofia tiptoed out of the closet, her knees wobbly, her heart pounding. What if they came into the room again? She held out her arms in the dark and found the edge of the bed. With one hand on the bed, she felt her way to the nightstand and switched the lamp back on. She pulled the drawer open, which made a squeaky sound. The weapon was inside. Sofia faltered, then picked up the gun, and rushed back into the closet, no longer trying to be quiet. Fortunately, the argument in the living room drowned out all the other noise.

  Sofia examined the gun. It looked somewhat similar to the one her father had owned. Her hand was trembling, but she gripped the handle and curled her finger around the trigger. She glanced at Miriam. “Ready to shoot.” Her attempt at humor didn’t make her feel calmer. She took deep breaths.

  In the meantime, Miriam had discovered a piece of metal rod in the closet. “We have to act fast. Here’s what I think. I’ll stand next to the door and bang against it. The guys will come in. I’ll be hidden by the door and I’ll hit the first one. You shoot the other one.”

  “I don’t know if I can shoot anyone. What if I miss? What if I kill him? I don’t know how many bullets are in the pistol? What if it’s not loaded?”

  “It is loaded. I’m sure. We have to do it. They’ll kill Angelo.” Miriam sounded desperate.

  Sofia felt she was going to faint. But she couldn’t let them kill her great-uncle. She’d come so far to find him. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  “Ready?” Miriam asked.

  “Yes … but please be careful.” Sofia grabbed her arm.

  Miriam nodded but her face showed fear. She tiptoed to the door, positioned herself on the side the door would open to. She waited a few seconds. Sofia’s heart went into overdrive again, out of fear for Miriam and for herself. Miriam banged the pipe against the door. The argument in the other room stopped. A brief exchange of words. Sofia lifted the gun and pointed it at the door. Her hand was shaking so hard, she was afraid she’d drop the weapon. Dear God, please help.

  Then everything happened at once. The door flew open. A scraggly-looking short man stepped into the room, holding a gun. Miriam, standing behind him, lifted the rod and hit him over the head, yelling at the same time. The blow made him tumble forward, his knees buckled, and he dropped the gun. Immediately, the s
econd guy—the police officer Sofia had met—rushed into the room. He looked down at his friend, then turned to face Miriam. He, too, had a gun. Sofia pulled the trigger. The policeman yelled, dropped the gun, sunk to the floor, and grabbed his leg. An acrid smell filled the room. Sofia, no longer able to stand, slid down, her back propped against the closet wall, the gun still clutched in her hand. Darkness threatened to overwhelm her.

  “You can let go now.” She heard the calm voice of Angelo. She opened her eyes. He gently prodded her fingers open, took the gun from her, and helped her stand up. Miriam, standing next to them, held the guns of the two men in her hand. Angelo took them both, put them into the closet, and closed the closet door. The man Miriam had struck down began to move. He moaned and held his head. The policeman, still holding his injured leg, yelled at them in Italian.

  “Miriam, there is some rope in the kitchen cabinet next to the sink. Can you get it?” Angelo said.

  “Okay, just a moment.” Miriam left the room.

  Sofia, having gotten up in the meantime, was holding on to the closet door. Her knees were still trembling.

  Angelo held her by the arm. “Brave woman. Nicholas can be proud of you.”

  Sofia managed a quick chortle. “He’d kill me if he knew.”

  Miriam came back with the rope. Angelo checked his gun. “There are still plenty of bullets here.” He glared at the two guys on the floor. He held the handle of the pistol out to Sofia. “Would you do me the honors? Just shoot them if they don’t cooperate.” Sofia looked at the weapon, then met his eyes. He winked at her. “Just don’t shoot me.”

  Having recovered somewhat, Sofia took the gun and held it pointed at the two men. Whereas before, the feeling of the gun in her hand had terrified her, now it gave her a sense of power. She held the pistol firmly in her hand. She wondered if she could ever actually kill a person.

  Angelo and Miriam proceeded to tie the hands of the two men behind their backs. The one guy who had been hit over the head was slowly recovering from the blow and began to squirm. Angelo held him by the arms while Miriam wrapped the rope around his wrists. “Stop fighting or you’re going to have a bullet in your head.” Angelo motioned with his head toward Sofia. “She won the NRA shooting competition for women last year.”