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

by Christa Polkinhorn

  The young man smiled. “Hello, Uncle Angelo. Yes, it’s me. And you remember Nadia?” He put his arm around the young woman next to him. She was a little taller than Matthew, with wavy brown hair and green eyes.

  “My God,” Angelo said, trying to match the young woman with the little girl he barely remembered, the younger sister. “You were … like … how old are you now?”

  “Twenty-two,” Nadia said. She hugged him. “I have to admit I don’t remember you.”

  “Of course not. You were only two when I left.” Angelo shook his head. “It’s only now I fully realize how long I’ve been away.”

  “Too long, piccolo,” Martin said, using a term he used to call his brother as a child.

  “Well, let’s all go home and celebrate. I’m so glad they found the real culprits and you don’t have to be afraid anymore.” Maria took Angelo by the arm and they all walked to the cars.

  “We had to come in two cars, since everybody wanted to be here,” Martin said. “Well, almost everybody. Robert is away for a week on some wine publicity stunt, so he couldn’t make it. Janice accompanied him.”

  “I heard he’s quite the entrepreneur,” Angelo said.

  “Tell me about it,” Martin said. “I don’t know how he does it, but he’s good at it.”

  At home, everybody gathered in Martin and Maria’s house for a light dinner and to get acquainted again with Angelo.

  He tried to come to terms with his thoughts and feelings. His mind was a beehive. Relief about the outcome of the investigation into Fred’s murder, the death of Anton, the man who was one of the major reasons Angelo disappeared, took turns with feelings of confusion. He felt he was having an identity crisis. Here he was in a country and at a place he hadn’t seen in twenty years, an environment that had changed tremendously. He’d had a glimpse of the proliferation of vineyards during the drive from the airport. Twenty years before, there had only been a few from what he remembered. This was his home, or was it? Italy had become his home over the past twenty years, but only to a certain extent.

  In Italy, he was Danilo Pedrotti, an impostor. His fake identity was only known to Abbot Francesco and now to Miriam. How would the people react if he finally told them his real name? Would he feel at home as Angelo Segantino in Rivalta? He believed his friends would understand once they heard why he had assumed a false identity. He had talked to Larry again who had told him that Fabio and his buddy in crime had been arrested, that no charges had been filed against the person who had shot Fabio in the leg. And best of all, Larry had gotten his old job back. Angelo smiled at the thought about the happy conversation he’d had with his friend.

  “More ice cream, Angelo?” someone asked. It was Maria and she gave him an amused smile. “You’re somewhere else with your thoughts, aren’t you?”

  Angelo took a deep breath. “Sorry, Maria, yes, I was thinking about … well, everything I guess. No more ice cream for me, thank you. Dinner was excellent.”

  “You’re going to stay with us if that’s okay,” Martin said. “We have a nice guest room with a private bathroom.”

  “Thank you. This is a lot fancier than what I’m used to. My home in Italy is a cabin, more or less.”

  “But it’s very beautiful,” Sofia said. “A cozy cottage next to a lovely stone pine forest, a pond nearby, and it has a great view of the valley and the mountains.”

  Angelo nodded. “Miriam is taking care of it, while I’m gone,” he said.

  It was quiet for a few moments.

  “You have to tell us a lot more about this mysterious Miriam,” Nicholas said. “From what I heard, she was Sofia’s partner in crime.” He winked at Sofia.

  “We became good friends,” Sofia said. “I hope to see her again soon.”

  “Well, Angelo, you have to tell us all about it,” Maria said. “But I can see you’re fading. It’s okay if you want to go to bed. I’ll check to make sure there are towels and everything is ready.”

  “Thanks, Maria, yes, I’m getting sleepy. It’s been a long day. I didn’t get much sleep on the plane. I was too nervous. And, I can tell you, spending the night in this beautiful home is a lot better than in a jail cell.”

  “Thank, God, it didn’t come to that,” Martin said. He got up and patted Angelo on the back. “Glad you’re back, little brother.”

  Chapter 44

  The next few days, Angelo tried to familiarize himself with the home he had left, an environment that had changed so much. As he walked across the fields and looked at the vineyards of the Segantino family, memories cropped up of events and people from a long time ago. Sometimes he went alone on walks of discovery, often Martin and once in a while Nicholas and Sofia accompanied him.

  Martin and Maria’s home became a meeting place for the Segantino family. Robert and Janice, Nicholas’s parents, returned from their trip. Robert was all enthusiastic about Angelo’s return and implored him to stay. He offered him a job as administrator of his estate. Angelo was grateful for his nephew’s attempt to help and promised to think about it. Truth was that he was confused and thrown off kilter by all the changes in the past few weeks.

  “I have to get my bearings first,” he kept saying. “I feel I’ve returned from another planet, in a way.” Fortunately, they all understood and let him get used to everything.

  One of the first things Angelo did was visit Elvira’s grave in the town cemetery. He was surprised how well kept it was. Two potted plants and a vase with fresh spring flowers brightened the plot. The tombstone was clean and polished. Maria had told him that she had kept an eye on it during his absence. Angelo was moved by how well cared for and tidy it was.

  He put a bouquet of flowers down—carnations, chrysanthemums, and yellow freesia, Elvira’s favorites. He brushed his hand gently over the etching on the stone. Elvira Cynthia Segantino, March 3, 1950 to July 20, 1992.

  “I’m sorry, Elvira,” he whispered. “So sorry.” A sob escaped him. To his relief, he was alone in the cemetery and could let his emotions take their course.

  A few moments later, Angelo walked around the cemetery, looking for Fred’s grave. As Martin had told him, Frank had been allowed to bury what was left of his brother after the investigation was over. Angelo found a newly planted plot with Fred’s name on it. He stood in front of the grave for a while, then put down a small potted plant.

  “Hey, buddy, I know you probably would’ve preferred a cold beer.” Angelo exhaled deeply. “I’m so sorry, Fred. You should be here with me. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace. But it’s just not right.”

  He heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind him and turned around. He barely recognized the overweight man with the curly gray hair and the red face. “Frank?”

  Frank nodded. “Hi, Angelo.”

  There was an awkward moment. Frank cleared his throat. “I apologize for thinking you killed Fred.”

  Angelo shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize. If I’d been you, I would’ve thought the same. I wasn’t exactly a model citizen.”

  “No, that’s right, but neither was Fred,” Frank said. “And least of all, Anton.”

  They stood silently for a while, looking at Fred’s grave.

  “You know, one of the things I don’t understand,” Angelo said. “How was it possible for Anton or his hired hand to bury Fred’s body on your property without anybody hearing or seeing anything?”

  Frank shrugged. “I’ve asked myself the same, but I can see now how it happened.” He motioned with his head to a bench at the edge of the cemetery. “Let’s sit down for a while.”

  They walked over and sat on a stone bench under one of the oak trees. Frank removed his baseball cap and wiped his forehead. He exuded a light smell of sweat. He looks like a candidate for a heart attack.

  “At the time when you and Fred disappeared, it was only myself and our uncle, Sam Leonardi, working the farm. Fred was off doing his own thing and Anton wasn’t around much anymore.” Frank put his hat back on.

/>   “Uncle Sam was hard of hearing and my bedroom was to the back of the house. So, really, anybody who knew the property could’ve come at night and buried the body. The field he was buried in was at the edge of our farm, well, next to your family’s land. It wasn’t used. It was overgrown and nobody came by much.”

  Angelo nodded. It made sense.

  “I remember Fred coming home from one of his jobs, delivering stuff for Anton,” Frank continued. “He was all upset. He didn’t say what happened, but he got into a huge argument with our uncle. Fred said he was leaving, he’d had enough of Sam bullying him.

  “I have to admit,” Frank went on. “Sam Leonardi was a tough and sometimes cruel father and uncle. He took the belt to us many times when we were kids. But he was fair. And he provided for Fred and me. As you probably remember, our parents died when we were still little and Sam took us in and treated us like his sons.” Frank pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered Angelo one. Angelo declined.

  “Anyway, the following day, Fred was gone. He had taken a bag with some clothes, but not much. We assumed he was just pissed off and went to stay with one of his friends, you or even Anton. He’d done it before when he got into a fight with our uncle.” Frank lit his cigarette. He squeezed his eyes shut and blew the smoke through his nose.

  “We weren’t too concerned, but when Fred didn’t come back and we didn’t hear from him, Sam went over to talk to your brother. Martin told us that you had disappeared as well and they had no idea where you were. I think both families were pretty much convinced that you were both involved in some criminal activities and kind of washed their hands of you.”

  Angelo gave a grunt. “I don’t blame them.”

  “Well, yes. On top of it, Anton wasn’t around anywhere either. The next we heard from him was that he’d moved to Chicago. We thought that perhaps you and Fred were there as well.”

  Angelo shook his head. “You never tried to find him after that?”

  “We did, at least I did. Sam said he didn’t care, he didn’t want anything to do with his loser son and nephew anymore. I went to Chicago, tried to track down Anton but didn’t find him. I went to the police, filed a missing person’s report. But nothing came of it. So, I finally gave up. I have to admit, I didn’t get along with Fred much. See, I was resentful. I did all the work at the farm, when our uncle got older. I had to watch how Fred did nothing to help me, but came home with money from what I thought were his illegal dealings. Just like you.”

  Angelo lowered his head. “Yes, I’m not proud of that part of my life, believe me.”

  “Well, at least you turned your life around. Fred didn’t have a chance to do it.” Frank sounded bitter.

  “I’m sorry, Frank, I wish it had turned out differently.” Angelo gazed at the oak trees in the field next to the cemetery. “I still don’t understand why Anton had the body buried on the family property. Wasn’t he afraid, someone was going to use the field, dig it up to plant something?”

  Frank sneered. “Well, for one thing, Anton expected to inherit the family property after his father’s death. He figured his dirty secret was safe. See, that piece of property isn’t worth much for the kind of farming we did. It was too rocky, too much gravel and flint. But of course, it’s perfect for grapes and wine. That’s why your great-nephew and his wife bought it.”

  “Makes sense,” Angelo said. “But once he knew that you inherited it, wasn’t he afraid you might dig it up or sell it?”

  “Sure, after he found out that I inherited the land, he was furious,” Frank said. “I felt kind of bad for him. I told him I wouldn’t mind sharing if he decided to move back and help me work the property. I knew he wouldn’t go for it. He told me he had no time or interest in farming. The only thing he asked me was that if I ever wanted to sell it or part of it, to let him know. He wanted to have first buying rights.”

  Frank removed his cap and scratched his head. “I kind of wondered why he would want to buy land from a farm he had no interest in. I thought it was just for the money, that he would sell it again. Now, I know why he wanted to prevent me from selling the field Fred was buried in.”

  “But you did sell the field to Nicholas and Sofia. I assume Anton didn’t know about it?”

  “No, not right away. Only after Fred’s bones were found. I hadn’t heard from Anton in … oh … over ten years. I didn’t even think he’d be interested anymore. I actually tried to call him before I finalized the sale, but couldn’t get a hold of him. So I told myself, to heck with it. After my wife died and the boys moved away, the farm was getting too big for me anyway. So I sold the field. It’s perfect for grapes, but not for much else.”

  “Sofia and Nicholas certainly appreciate it. They’re eager to plant, now that everything has been settled. I’m sure they’ll let you have some of their wine,” Angelo said.

  “Well, I’m not much into wine. I prefer a good bottle of beer,” Frank said.

  “Just like Fred, as I remember,” Angelo said.

  “Yeah.” Frank sighed.

  Angelo put his hand on Frank’s back. “Frank, I’m sorry about what happened to Fred. We did some dumb things together. But he was a good friend, and I miss him.”

  “Thanks.” Frank nodded.

  “I’m glad you and the Segantinos are talking to each other again. I know Martin really regretted the bad blood between the families,” Angelo said.

  “Yeah. I’m glad, too,” Frank said. “I mean, neighbors have to get along.”

  It was quiet again. Angelo patted Frank’s shoulder, then got up. Frank groaned a little as he raised himself and wiped his forehead again. “What are you going to do? Stay here or go back to Italy?”

  Angelo shrugged. “I need to go back. I have a lot of unresolved business there. Right now, I don’t know where I’m going to live in the future. Time will tell.”

  “Well, good to see you again.” Frank waved goodbye and left.

  Angelo watched him slowly making his way through the cemetery. He felt sorry for Frank. He seemed lonely.

  Chapter 45

  “I ran into Frank Leonardi,” Angelo said, when he came back from his visit to the cemetery.

  “Oh, yes?” Martin raised an eyebrow. “How did that go?”

  “Fine. He apologized for having suspected me of killing Fred.”

  “Oh, I guess he truly had a change of heart. He came by here to apologize to us as well,” Martin said.

  “He seems lonely.” Angelo told Martin and Maria about their talk.

  “Yes, he’s had a hard time since his wife died. Also, he’s not in good health, and the farm is getting to be too much for him,” Maria said. “At least, his sons come by frequently and they seem to be close.”

  She went into the kitchen and came back with glasses and a bottle of wine. “I’m glad we reestablished some kind of pleasant relationship again. We felt really bad, not being on speaking terms with him.”

  “True,” Martin said. “It must be hard for Frank to lose his cousin and his brother like this, one of them a killer who commits suicide and the other one being murdered by the first.”

  The door opened and Nicholas and Sofia came in. “We just saw Frank Leonardi. He was very friendly and asked us how we’re doing with our new field,” Nicholas said.

  Angelo told them about running into him at the cemetery and Martin mentioned that Frank had apologized to him and Maria as well.

  “I still wonder if he was the one who organized the break-in at our house.” Nicholas narrowed his eyes. “Did he say anything?”

  Maria shook her head. “No, he didn’t and we may never know. I still think it was him, or rather someone he hired to search for the diary. What else could it have been?”

  “Yes, well nothing has happened since, so I hope that was it,” Nicholas said.

  “What break-in?” Angelo asked.

  “That’s right, we haven’t told you yet.” Nicholas glanced at Martin.

  “I wanted to wait until Silver
gave us back Elvira’s diary,” Martin said.

  Angelo felt a jolt in his stomach. “Elvira’s diary?”

  “Yes,” Martin gave him a worried look. “I hope this isn’t too much of a shock. Sofia found a diary when she cleaned out the storage room in their place, you know the house you and Elvira lived in for a while. The diary belonged to Elvira. We read it, hoping to find some clues about what happened that made you disappear so suddenly.”

  “Oh, God,” Angelo said. He sat down and covered his face with his hands, then looked up again. “Was it … painful to read? I caused her so much grief.”

  “Well …” Martin hesitated. “She worried about you, about the stuff you got involved in.”

  Angelo exhaled deeply. “I don’t know if I want to read it.”

  “We’re sorry we read it, Angelo,” Maria said. “It seemed the only way to get some possible clues of your whereabouts.”

  “I don’t mind that you read it,” Angelo said. “You all know about my screwed-up life back then. But of all the things I regret the most is the way I treated Elvira.” Angelo’s voice trembled.

  Sofia put her hand on Angelo’s shoulder. “She was just very worried about you. But we also found something positive. There was a bundle of letters, love letters you wrote to her that she kept. I only read one,” Sofia hurried to say.

  “I remember, I did write her a few letters.” Angelo gave a quick chortle. “It feels as if my past, the past that I ran from, is attacking me full force.”

  “You can’t run away from the past. But you came back to face it. Now it’s time to move on,” Martin said.

  “You’re right, but it will take me a while,” Angelo said.

  They all sat down to a dinner of barbecued steak, baked potato, and salad. “We need to get Angelo used to an all-American meal again. Forget pasta and risotto for a while,” Martin said with a twinkle in his eyes as he brought in the steaks from the grill on the patio.