Chianti Classico

by Coralie Hughes Jensen

  “It depends which amphora you’re talking about. Each year’s wine’s aged in different areas of the winery. The wine that’s been aged the longest has charts. Winemakers, usually myself but sometimes assistants, also do tests on the resting wine at least once monthly. That’s why I hire people—to help perform tests that include ones for sugar content, acidity, sulfur, and percent alcohol.”

  “How do these charts indicate who checked the wine in all the amphorae?” asked Sister Angela.

  “Every person who touches an amphora has to mark what actions he or she performed and initial the chart.”

  “That includes all the amphorae?” asked the nun.

  “Yes. Once fermentation has taken place, the wine’s poured into a clay vessel to be aged.”

  Pagano leaned forward. “Evidently, the last person to initial the sheet on one particular clay pot was your wife exactly two weeks ago.”

  “Carlota went to her family on the twenty-seventh of last month. She must have checked the wine just before she left.”

  “I suppose if your wife tampered with that particular amphora, she wouldn’t have signed her initials.” He handed the chart to La Barca. “Can you verify that these are your wife’s initials?”

  La Barca carefully studied the initials. “They look like hers.”

  Sister Angela interrupted. “Martino, why exactly did Carlota leave?”

  The vintner sighed. “She complained for months before she left that I worked all the time. She threatened on several occasions in the last few weeks that she’d run off with one of the workers.” He looked up at Sister Angela. “I didn’t believe her because she didn’t seem to pay attention to any of them. I guess she wanted more from me. I was too busy to give her more attention.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the nun.

  “She thought her life would be easier—marrying a successful winemaker. It was a fantasy, of course. All the winemakers I know work many hours.”

  “How long have you been married?”

  “Three years.”

  “And no children?”

  “We’d planned to have children, yes. But the winery struggled to make money. Our nest egg never grew.”

  “Perhaps Carlota left because she was afraid you didn’t want children.”

  “She might have complained about waiting,” said La Barca. “I thought she’d come back sooner so I didn’t touch her things. I figured she left them because she planned to return. I told you she was with her family, but I didn’t know for sure. Did she say she planned to return?”

  Pagano squirmed. “We didn’t ask her that. We may have to bring her back though.”

  “Why? Does she need to verify her initials? Why don’t you take the chart to her?”

  Pagano looked up, seeming to scrutinize the prisoner’s face. “You don’t want her here? Are you trying to protect her or do you think she witnessed the crime?”

  La Barca’s body visibly stiffened. “What crime? Did you find the orphan?”

  The nun followed his gaze to the chief detective.

  Pagano appeared uncomfortable. “Your wife seems to have been the last one to check the wine in a clay vat that was broken into.”

  “Carlota would’ve reported there was a breach in one of the amphorae. An amphora holds a lot of wine. The loss could be staggering.”

  “She wouldn’t have been able to test for sugars or check for its acidity,” said Pagano.

  “Are you saying she signed the chart but didn’t do the work?”

  “No, Signor La Barca. I’m telling you that the wine had been dumped out and replaced with a dead body. This chart suggests your wife was involved in a homicide.”

  The guards removed La Barca when they heard yelling in the interrogation room. Pagano ordered espresso and cookies for the two remaining interrogators and sat across from the nun at the table.

  “The fact that Carlota initialed the chart doesn’t mean she murdered the old nun,” said Sister Angela. “The chart actually indicates the acidity level. If she went to the trouble to dump out some of the wine and replace the space with a body, she wouldn’t have signed it, let alone tasted it.”

  “Perhaps I just wanted to stir things up.”

  “And what does Martino’s response tell you.”

  “That he probably wasn’t acting. He didn’t seem to know about the body. I hoped he’d try to defend his wife, but he seemed surprised by our discovery.”

  “That chart tells us our old nun was murdered about a ago,” said Sister Angela. “If Carlota signed the sheet and then left immediately, there was only Martino left to man the winery at night. Our interviews with the workers will shed more light on that.”

  Sacco entered with a report from the medical examiner. Before reading it, he reached for one of the cookies. Sister Angela and Pagano waited for him to swallow.

  “The victim was stabbed with a small knife. He was dead when he was stuffed into the amphora. About three-quarters of the wine remained in the amphora so his head was submerged, but there was no wine in his lungs.”

  “I suppose we still don’t know the victim’s name.”

  “No. There’s nothing in the report.”

  “Elmo, you went through the clothing on the body,” said Pagano. “Was there nothing in the pockets?”

  “No,” said Sacco.

  “Which would be unusual. Someone must have emptied them to hide his identity,” said Sister Angela. “There was a partner.”

  “How do you know?” asked Sacco.

  “Because someone had to have taken Pia from him. Until we discover the child’s body, she’s still out there. The question is who took her and why?”

  “Tomorrow I’m going back to the convent,” said Sister Angela at dinner. She buttered a piece of bread. “I need to find out where Pia came from. There has to be some connection to her kidnapping.”

  “But the old nun’s here,” said Sister Daniela. “The connection’s to the winery next door to the orphanage.”

  Taking a sip of Chianti, Sister Angela turned to face Michel. “Suppose you’ve just signed the chart above one of your barrels. If you’d murdered someone and stuffed him inside the barrel, would your have signed it?”

  “Probably not. I’d have to cut up the body to get him into one of my barrels.”

  “So Carlota La Barca most likely tasted the wine and signed the chart and went home. At dinnertime, she found that her husband was running late so she made her decision. She’d depart and go home to her parents. That leaves her husband home alone. Sometime during the week, someone murdered Pia’s abductor and, when all was quiet, dumped out enough wine to hold the body.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Michel.

  “Because if the killer hadn’t dumped out some of the wine, the wine would’ve spilled over the top and stained the clay vessel.”

  “Would you know that, Sister?” asked Sister Daniela. “I wouldn’t know to dump some of it out. I would’ve made a mess of the amphora.”

  The mature nun gazed at her friend. “You’re right. We must conclude the killer knew something about the winery.”

  The nun looked over at Susanna who sat dreamily next to her husband. “Are you feeling all right, Susanna? You haven’t said a thing. Aren’t I giving you a chance to speak?”

  “I’m fine. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t check the other workers. It sounds like a local abduction and murder to me. Aren’t you all making this more complicated?”

  Sister Angela smiled. “You’re right. But while we’re rounding up and interviewing the workers and suppliers, some of us can be following other leads. I believe the kidnapping somehow involves the child’s past.”

  “We don’t know anything about her past, do we?” said Sister Daniela. “I thought that was a dead end.”

  “I’m not so sure. That’s why I need you, Sister Daniela. Someone should be following what’s happening with the investigation here. I don’t think La Barca or his wife was involved, but neithe
r has explained how the nun’s habit was buried under the vine and why Martino watered down the dirt over the hole it was buried in or why he raked the entire area, covering up any evidence we could’ve used to find Pia.”

  Sister Daniela suddenly sat up. “You’ll have to speak with Mother Faustine, of course. Someone will have to take over in the classroom.”

  “That might pose a problem. Do you think one of your students can help out there?”

  “I’m willing to do whatever Mother Faustine tells me to do. You know that. I’m always up for investigative work.”

  After a call from the chief detective, Sister Daniela drove to the station in Siena. She, Pagano, and Sacco convened in the interrogation room and sat around the table to enjoy a morning coffee. The break lasted only five minutes before Pagano asked Sacco for a report.

  “We have five workers—all temporary. I thought La Barca said he had a fulltime winemaker helping him, didn’t he? None of these qualifies as a winemaker.”

  “He probably only wanted to convey that his establishment was professional,” said Pagano. “He has a propensity for lying. Did the workers have any records?”

  “No. We were able to look up each one. They have all worked in this or that winery all over the valley.”

  “So we’ve established what? The old nun never worked there, right?”

  “No. Our victim wasn’t one of the workers.”

  “And La Barca’s workers are all clean. Did you interview them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were their stories all the same?”

  “No. They weren’t there together. Some worked for a while months ago. They worked and then quit before others replaced them. They explained their jobs differently. Some tended the grapes while others followed the winemaking procedures.”

  “That’s not good enough,” said Pagano. “I want to talk to them, even the ones who worked previously. Each probably realized that a body wouldn’t be discovered right away and also knew to empty an amphora just enough so the wine inside didn’t overflow. What about the suppliers?”

  “We’re still tracking them down.”

  “Were they regular to La Barca’s winery? Had all been paid? Do any have records of some sort in the database? Have we checked who delivered dirt or chemicals to the vines? I can see someone standing among the vines watching the children next door.”

  “That’s just it,” said Sister Daniela. “You’re finally talking about Pia. Someone probably killed the old nun and absconded with Pia. We need more connections. We should be working on the old nun’s identity. Then we can find out who’s associated with the victim.”

  “We sent off his fingerprints and dental records looking for a match,” said Sacco. “No response yet. He may not be on our radar. You’re correct, Sister. We need to match the workers and suppliers to the victim, but they could’ve worked together anywhere. What we need is a break.”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go back to ground zero.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think I can help best if I see all the evidence you’ve collected from Pia’s abduction. I want to see all fingerprints, footprints, and tire tracks. I believe I heard there was nothing in the murder victim’s pockets or in the habit pockets. I want to see the evidence and satisfy myself that there’s nothing about the clothing that’s remarkable.”

  “What about La Barca’s wife?”

  “You know where she is?”

  “Yes, she’s in Triesa. It’s not far from here. I have the address.”

  “You want me to interview her? You’ll have to fill me in.”

  “A little more than week ago, Carlota La Barca left her husband,” said Sacco. “He says she was visiting family. That’s where her family lives. We got him to admit that perhaps she left to break up the marriage.”

  “A little more than week ago is when the abduction took place,” said Sister Daniela.”

  “Yes. We suspect she was in on it, or at least helped plan it and that La Barca sent her away so she wouldn’t be blamed for anything.”

  “You want me to see if she was involved.”

  “I want you to use your powers of observation,” said Pagano. “She might roll her eyes or shed a tear. Hell, if she sneezes, I want to know about it. We don’t need to waste more time on her if she’s innocent.”

  “I understand.”

  “I also want to find out what she knows about our murder victim.”

  “Wasn’t he killed after she left?”

  “But he might have been around the scene before the murder. We need a name. To get that we’ll have to have details about his life so someone else can identify him.” He slipped a photograph from his pocket and jotted an address on a piece of paper. “Here’s Signora La Barca’s address and a photo we found in the farmhouse. I’d give you her cell number, but she might be a runner. I don’t think you should warn her that you’re coming.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sister Angela slowly ascended the steps in front of the convent and lifted her arm to ring the bell. While she waited for one of the nuns to answer, she turned back to admire the view. The smell of ripe grapes wafted up the hill. They were almost ready. The musty smell lingered in her nostrils.

  “Hello, Sister Angela,” said Sister Tiberia. The tall nun bent down to grab Sister Angela’s bag. “Let me help you with this. I can’t believe you carried it all the way from the terminal. Come in. Come in. It’s so hot. Please come through to the kitchen. I have some cold juice waiting for you. After you rest and hydrate, one of us can show you to your room. The fan’s on, cooling it down so you’ll be comfortable.”

  The nuns gathered in the front room before dinner to listen to Sister Angela’s plan.

  Tiny Sister Baptista continued to knit while Sister Concetta pulled more chairs to the center of the room. “I love our refurbished furniture,” she said. “It’s so comfortable.”

  “Please update us,” said the prioress. “We’ve heard nothing since you left.”

  “Let me see,” said Sister Angela, wriggling deeper into the soft cushion of her chair. “The police have arrested the winemaker who lives next door to the orphanage.”

  “They know who kidnapped her?” asked Sister Baptista, stopping her knitting needles mid stitch.

  “No. Signor La Barca did some clearing of his vineyard right where there might have been proof the kidnapper was there.”

  “What proof?”

  “Signor La Barca himself found a piece of nun’s habit. If you remember, the children identified the kidnapper as a tall nun. But then he raked the area around it and watered the particular vine that hid the swatch of nun’s habit so no one would be able to find more. He lied when the police questioned him about it.”

  “Why did he do that?” asked Sister Oriana, who had entered the room after taking out the bread baking in the oven.

  Sister Angela didn’t answer right away. The aroma that filled the front room was heavenly.

  “I’m serving the bread at dinner,” Sister Oriana said. “So the police arrested him because he lied?”

  “Not exactly. They arrested Signor La Barca because he was the only suspect in the death of the old nun.”

  “The old nun died?” said Mother Patrizia.

  “A man’s body was recovered from one of Signora La Barca’s amphora.”

  “What’s that?” asked Sister Concetta.

  “The winemaker aged his wine in large clay pots.”

  “I thought you said the old nun died,” said Sister Tiberia.

  “The old nun who kidnapped Pia turned out to be a tall man in disguise.”

  “Maybe he tried to hide in the clay pot, and someone poured wine over his head,” said Sister Concetta.

  “They discovered the habit in the same area where Signor Barca found the swatch. The medical examiner theorized that the man had been killed before he was hidden in the amphora. Signora La Barca was the last person to check the wine in that vessel. It was only then
that Signor La Barca admitted his wife left him. The police have now found her, and my assistant, Sister Daniela, is going to Triesa to interview her.”

  “What about Pia?” asked Sister Tiberia. “Her kidnapper’s dead, and the police have arrested his murderer. Did the police look in all the pots? Did Pia get away? Perhaps she’s with the wife.”

  “Sister Daniela will check on that.”

  “Then why are you here?” asked the prioress. “You should be in Triesa too. They’re so close to finding her.”

  “I don’t believe the case will be that easy to solve, Reverend Mother. I have some investigating of my own to do here around Castel Valori. In the morning, I think I’ll visit the Detective Sergeant in town about how his investigation’s going. Maybe he can help me go over some of the unsolved cases that went on near here. If he won’t help me, then I’ll just have to do it myself.”

  “But if Sister Daniela finds something in Triesa, she’ll call you won’t she?” asked Sister Concetta.

  “Of course. She’ll call me tomorrow evening no matter what she’s found. I have my little red mobile here in my pocket. She can get hold of me anytime.”

  Sister Oriana served them soup and bread for dinner. Sister Angela was hungry. She couldn’t wait to slather butter on her piece of homemade bread and, when served, sat back to enjoy every bite. The nuns handed Sister Angela a second piece to dip in her soup. She was quite satisfied when she felt the buzz of the phone in her pocket. They all looked up.

  “Excuse me,” she said, walking back to the front room before answering it.

  “Hi,” said Sister Daniela. “I’m here in Triesa.”

  “You haven’t approached her yet, have you?”

  “No. I’m in my hotel room. I just wanted to let you know that I arrived safely.”

  Sister Angela smiled. “Was there anything new when you talked to Ricco and Elmo at the station before you left?”

  “Only that the old nun wasn’t one of La Barca’s workers. Why would he kill someone he never met?”

  “That doesn’t mean he didn’t know him. The old nun could have worked for Martino at another time or knew him in another context. Perhaps it has to do with his wife.”