“And you were here. I know because your bedroom door was open, and I could hear you snoring.” Sister Daniela felt her face grow hot. “I didn’t mean that it kept me up.”
“Susanna complains about my snoring too. Don’t worry about embarrassing me.”
“Susanna must have eaten heartily. Her dishes are empty. That’s a good sign. I sat beside the bed and examined those drawings I told you about.”
“What did you find?”
“Most were nothing. I really wanted to examine the ones drawn by Pia’s roommates. One of them said she dreamed of a nun in the room. It looked the same as one of the others who said she awoke and saw the nun but went back to sleep. They figured it was Sister Octavia, an elderly nun belonging to the same order in Siena. Most of the drawings do look like her, but Sister Octavia doesn’t go out much anymore. She’s in her nineties and can only get around with a walker. I’m not sure a walker could help her get up to the attic. And nobody heard or saw a walker.”
“So they thought it was this Sister Octavia and drew how they remembered Sister Octavia. Perhaps they didn’t really see the old woman.”
“The main thing is that Sister Octavia’s very tall and skinny. That’s how they described the woman who took Pia. I tend to believe the girls actually saw a nun or someone who looked like her.”
He walked into the kitchen as Sister Daniela took the phone out of her pocked and pecked at the tiny keypad. She waited for the older nun to pick up her red cell phone. When it went to her voicemail, Sister Daniela left a message, “Sister Angela. I need you here. Please get Mother Margarita’s permission to visit
us and get here as quickly as possible.”
Chapter Two
Sister Angela waited outside Mother Margherita’s office. She squirmed. Her chair was far too small for her ample backside. There should be chairs for adults. What happens when the parents have to meet with the mother superior? Is this waiting room designed to make everyone uncomfortable?
She heard Sister Marcella put down the phone with a click and looked up. The headmistress’ secretary gazed back at Sister Angela and smiled.
You think I look funny in this chair, don’t you? Sister Angela thought. She sat up straight and glanced away. Well, I’m not going to give you the pleasure of making your day.
The door to the office suddenly opened, and a man and a woman walked out. Behind them, Sister Margherita paused in the doorway and gestured for Sister Angela to enter. The nun started to stand when her knees resisted. Praying that God spare her the humiliation of asking for help getting out of this devil of a chair, she was finally able to extricate herself and move slowly toward the office. Is that Sister Marcella quietly snickering?
“Sister Angela, I know why you’re here,” Mother Margherita said before she returned to her seat across the desk from the nun. “You got a call from Sister Daniela saying she needed help on a case of a missing child. Am I correct?”
“Yes, I got a message from Sister Daniela last night. I didn’t answer, afraid that I would incur the resistance of the diocese. Sister Daniela was retired as a junior detective when she became a teacher, wasn’t she? I come here seeking your advice.”
The mother superior beamed. “I’m honored that you would come to me first, though I doubt you’ll follow direction regardless of my opinion.”
“I don’t wish to get Sister Daniela into trouble.”
“You’re off the hook. Sister Daniela made it so that she and she alone is responsible.”
“I have no idea why she’s there, Mother.”
“Oh yes, you were away when she left. Her sister lives in Filari and is undergoing chemotherapy for her cancer. The sister’s husband asked Sister Daniela to come and help. While there, she wanted to be useful during the days her sister didn’t need her. I believe she’s helping the Mission Sisters in Siena. They run an orphanage within walking distance of the brother-in-law’s winery. They needed a teacher. I assume the missing child’s from the orphanage. I have no other details to share.”
“But Father Sergio, the bishop’s assistant, is surely going to want to interfere in this case. Aren’t you afraid of his wrath?”
“This isn’t a big deal unless you make it one, Sister Angela. As of yesterday, you and the students went on summer holiday, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I planned to sleep in this morning, but I was concerned about Sister Daniela and her case.”
“What you do during the three weeks of your vacation is your business, not mine. If you decide to travel to this village and take in some rest and relaxation, I can’t stop you because I won’t be aware of it.”
Sister Angela smiled.
“I only ask that you keep your little red cell phone with you so I can call you in time to remind you to return and join your students in four weeks.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“I assume you usually book public transportation when you have holiday destinations in mind. That’s important because getting you a driver might attract unwanted attention.”
“I understand, Mother. I gather the ears in this office are agreed not to let this information go outside.”
Mother Margherita’s lips thinned—a bad sign that Sister Angela recognized immediately.
“Yes, you can call this office if you need to,” said the mother superior. “I would suggest you leave the message that you want me to return your call and say nothing about the case or Sister Daniela. That way you don’t have to talk about my secretary as if she’s a spy. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother,” said Sister Angela, thrilled that Mother Margherita seemed to be joining her in the conspiracy. “Would you like me to keep you informed about the details?”
“Good Lord, no. The less I know the better. If, however, you run into some sort of impasse, I might be a resource. That said I’ve never known you to run into one you couldn’t break yourself.”
“Then I’ll reserve my tickets now,” said Sister Angela standing. She felt much better, knowing Mother Margherita thought her a capable detective.
“So that she doesn’t worry and return too early, please tell Sister Daniela that Sister Eloisa’s becoming a strong teacher and that she must stay and take care of her sister. As for you, don’t let this go to your head. I expect you back in three weeks to welcome your new students. I’m a teacher short and am not prepared to teach in addition to my other chores.”
“What about…”
The lips thinned again.
Sister Angela, her hand on the doorknob, stopped and smiled. “I know what you believe I was going to say, Mother, and you’re right. Think about it. If someone in the outer office had to do it herself, she might be more polite once she saw how hard we all worked.” Sister Angela was out the door before the mother superior could answer about anything concerning her secretary, Sister Marcella.
Sister Angela had to hurry. She planned to visit Chief Detective Allesandro DiMarco before she caught the bus to Petraggio.
“Is he in?” she asked upon arriving at the station unannounced.
“Yes, of course,” said the police constable on duty. He lifted the counter and gestured for her to enter. “He’s in his office.”
Sister Angela peeked through the open door and found him sitting at his desk, deep in thought.
“Hello, Allesandro,” she said. “I’m on my way to Siena. I have a case.”
“Ah, my favorite detective, Sister Angela,” he said, standing. “What can I do for you? It’s been quiet here. I suppose it could get busier now that school’s out but probably not a murder or robbery. Maybe a drunk and disorderly call. That isn’t quite up your alley, is it?”
“As I said, my services have been requested in Siena. A child, an orphan, has disappeared.”
“They must have heard about your talents. Did Father Sergio call you in?”
“Sister Daniela’s working at an orphanage in one of the villages. She called. It isn’t official. It’s actually my holiday. The diocese hasn’t been
consulted.”
“Ah, winetasting. It can’t be all bad, I suppose.”
Sister Angela smiled. “No, it isn’t all bad, but still—they’re looking for the child in earnest. She may not have a family, but the nuns who run the orphanage are just as worried. I was wondering…”
“I’m looking it up, Sister.” His fingers danced across his laptop keyboard. “It’s Chief Detective Ricco Pagano. I’m afraid I don’t know him. Would you like me to inform him you’re coming?”
“That would be nice. I’m sure they have lots of support. Siena’s much bigger than Montriano.”
“And I’m certain they’ll want you to reveal some of our winemaking secrets, Sister. They’re in the Chianti Classico area. Our vintners are in direct competition with theirs. Keep our secrets to yourself.”
“If I knew them, I would zip my lips. Too much alcohol might lead to loose ones, but without a car or knowledge of our methods, I can do little more than embarrass Montriano and the scuola media.”
On the way back down the hill to the school, Sister Angela stopped at San Benedetto Church where she sat in the cool interior to pray for the sisters’ success in locating the child. Making her way up the center aisle, she let her eyes follow the Stations of the Cross on one of the walls. Then she gazed the altar. To the right, the Virgin Mother drew in all her visitors. To the left, the white marble rendering of St. Francis of Assisi offered his services to protect the animals and all those poor souls who seek his blessing. Sister Angela took a seat in front of him and fingered her beads. She didn’t have time to repeat all the prayers on her rosary, but she could whisper some of them. After about ten minutes, she felt energized and exited as quietly as she entered.
At the scuola media, Sister Angela walked to the office and grabbed her packed bag. Then she hiked down the hill to catch the bus to the terminal in Petraggio where she’d transfer to another bus on its way to Siena.
Finally seated on the train, the nun retrieved a bottle of cold water from her red-striped tote and sat back to watch the olive orchards and vineyards sweep by. She loved Montriano and Petraggio. The two hill towns were her home. She’d never leave them, but her detective work was also important. She loved watching the world go by. Unfortunately, she usually traveled because something happened outside of Montriano, and this was no exception.
Sister Angela had been to Siena once before. She knew the large cathedral in the center of the city. All the hills and roads seemed to lead the visitor to its front steps. But the group of nuns that worked in Siena lived in an old house closer to the Basilica. Sister Angela worried that the distance between the Basilica and Filari, where Sister Daniela lived and worked, wasn’t supported by a bus. How would she get there? Would she have go into town to discuss clues with the police?
Some of her questions would be answered as she descended the steps of the bus across from the train terminal.
The nun heard a honk from a faded Fiat idling along the curb across the street.
“Sister Angela? Are you looking for someone affiliated with the suore di missione?”
Sister Angela waved and put her tote over the opposite shoulder. The driver leaned over to open the passenger door for the older nun. “I’m Sister Liona.”
“I didn’t expect you to have a car, Sister.”
“We have to cover a wide area. You’re here for the problem at the orphanage, aren’t you? You couldn’t get from here to Filari without wheels. We keep a car here in town,” she said, pulling away from the curb without looking. A pickup behind her honked several times, but she didn’t seem to notice. “It would be nice if the nuns at Filari kept one too. That’s our next project—to get a car for the orphanage. We need it for our work.”
“Are you all affiliated with the orphanage?”
“Oh no. Some of us at Mission House work at the food bank. Others concentrate on housing the poor. A few help the elderly. I specialize in legal aid. We’re quite busy. Sister Carmela and Sister Natalia work at the orphanage. Most of the time they sleep there too. Sister Carmela stays there all the time. They aren’t alone, though. They hire others to help out.”
“Hopefully everyone’s background is verified.”
“Most have been there for years. Then there’s the new one, Sister Daniela. I think you know of her. Most come recommended, and many are nuns.”
“Where are we going?”
“To Filari. Sister Daniela has a room for you at her sister’s house. I believe she wants to put you to work immediately. She said you’d insist on that.”
Sister Angela smiled.
“Sit back and enjoy the rolling hills and rows of vines, Sister. It’ll take a half hour or so to get there.”
Chapter Three
Viviana delivered a glass of water to her grandmother’s room and waited for more instructions. Her aunt took her arm, leading her into the hallway. Viviana carefully closed the door.
“What are you doing? You’re no help here. I only suppose your mother feels shame for failing to come here herself and help out.” Viviana’s aunt continued down the hallway toward the stairs, and Viviana followed. “Leave it to Mara to take the easy route.”
“My mother’s in Roma. She’d lose her job if she left now, Aunt Lucilla.”
“She’s too self-important. What kind of woman leaves her duties at home just so she can work with the men?”
The two reached the bottom of the stairs and strolled into the small sitting room where Mara’s younger sister sat knitting.
“What’s the matter?” asked Clarissa.
“I was telling Viviana that Mara should be here. It does absolutely no good to send Viviana. What can she do?”
“You two want me to represent my mother while you go through the jewelry. My mother doesn’t believe you should go over Nonna’s things until her will’s been read. I don’t see what’s wrong with her opinion.”
Clarissa carefully put down her knitting and lit a cigarette. The smoke curled toward the ceiling.
“Mara believes her mother has bequeathed everything to her,” said Lucilla. “You know that. It’s just like her to make you do the work, Viviana. She was always like that. When we were children, she’d sit on her throne and tell Clarissa and me what to do. Your nonna would smile and then explain that I was the eldest, and it was my job to mete out the chores. Then, when I was five…”
Viviana had managed to inch toward the door as Lucilla went on without stopping to take a breath. She quietly opened the front door and slid out onto the steps, taking a deep breath. She had to get away from the strong aroma of mothballs, stale cigarette smoke, and death.
Pulling her long, light-brown hair into a ponytail, Viviana began to walk down the long road toward town.
About a mile down the dusty road, Viviana realized she wasn’t heading in the right direction. She visited her grandmother once or twice when she young but didn’t remember how her father drove to get into the town of Corsa Pietra. On the next hill over, she could see it, its red tile roofs gleaming in the sun and the tall church steeple piercing the sky. But the road continued without turning toward it. She stopped to examine the situation. Behind her, the hill of her nonna’s house descended into a valley where another road twisted up the opposite side.
Between her and that road, a grassy field introduced rows of grapevines. The neat lines led her eyes down the slope to another road and the river where a bridge would take her to the town. There didn’t seem to be a fence. Perhaps she could cut across here to save her time. Stepping carefully through the yellowing grass, she entered expansive network of vines.
The grapes looked like they were ready to be picked. Perhaps she could try a few. She stopped and looked around in all directions. There was a house beneath a bushy olive tree about halfway down the hill. Tall cypress trees framed a long driveway less than a kilometer farther up the road she’d just traversed.
Viviana pinched off a bunch of grapes, popped one into her mouth, and started walking. After about five minut
es she heard the noise. Spinning around, she came face to face with a rearing horse. She dropped the remaining grapes.
“You’re trespassing,” a voice boomed.
She covered her eyes so she could see the figure in the saddle.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to…”
“Don’t you know that you damage the vine when you fool with the grapes that are this close to maturation?”
“Well, no. I didn’t.”
The man dismounted. He patted his horse’s mane to calm it down.
“Do you own this land? It’s beautiful. Your winery must be very successful.” She noticed his strong tan arms and long legs.
He pushed back his black bangs like a little boy before taking the reins and starting to walk beside her. “Do you know anything about wine? If you’re from around here, you should.”
“Unfortunately…”
“Then you must stay and let me take you on a tour. It would benefit me and other growers for you to learn something in case you decide to take more walks. As it is, if you intend to make it to town, it’ll take at least another hour. Then you have to turn around right away to climb the hill and get to wherever you’re staying.”
“Oh, yes. I’m staying at my nonna’s about a kilometer up the gravel road. I don’t suppose you know her.”
“Uh, probably not. Look, why don’t you change your plans? If you follow me, I can give you a tour and then take you into town.”
“I don’t want to interrupt your work.”
“I’d already planned to go into town for some supplies.”
“Is it that building behind the beautiful olive tree?”
“No. You can’t see it from here. It’s beyond that. We make Chianti Rufina wines. The winery’s award-winning.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“This,” he said with a sweeping gesture, “is Amarena Balda, and I’m Giulio de Capua. Amarena Balda is owned by the De Capua family, which consists of me and my brother, Ermanno. The winery’s been here for over a century.”
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