Chianti Classico

by Coralie Hughes Jensen

  “Are you sure you don’t want to drive into Corsa Pietra first?” asked Sister Tiberia. “If someone at this vineyard’s behind the murder and kidnapping, he might be dangerous.”

  “I don’t want to destroy the reputation of this up-and-coming vineyard if everyone there’s innocent.” Sister Angela paused. “At least I want to make sure we get a taste of their Chianti first.”

  Sister Tiberia parked the Buick along the edge of the driveway and stepped out of the car.

  “It looks busy,” said Sister Angela.

  “There’s a table in the corner of the patio. Let’s see if we can get that one.”

  A young woman with sweeping auburn hair wriggled between the tables and chairs, crammed close together on the patio. Men reached out to paw at her long bare legs.

  “How can I help you?”

  Sister Angela quickly glanced at the badge pinned just below her low-cut blouse. “We’d like to taste your wine, Donata.” said the nun. “Do we need to order something first?”

  “No,” Donata said, swiping at the hand resting on her backside.

  The guilty customer guffawed.

  “But we have some tasty sandwiches that would go well with the Chianti. There’s also a prosciutto and melon salad.”

  “I’ll take one of those with a taste of your Chianti,” said Sister Angela.

  Sister Tiberia nodded eagerly.

  “Make that two,” said Sister Angela. “By the way, my friend and I have been here before. It’s been a few years since we made the trip.” She tucked her napkin through the loop that held her rosary beads so it wouldn’t blow away. “I’d say it’s four or five years since we’ve been here. Isn’t that right Sister?”

  Sister Tiberia smiled and nodded again.

  “Donata,” Sister Angela continued, taking hold of the waitress’s hand. “My friend and I promised to meet up with a young woman who used to work here. This young woman had long sandy hair and was roughly your age at the time.”

  Donata’s face paled. She started to step back, but Sister Angela still held onto her hand, admiring the large diamond on her finger. The gentleman at the next table continued to take liberties with Donata’s backside, and she sighed. “I’ve been here about four years. There was a waitress before that, but I’m not sure I really met her.”

  “You have a lovely ring. Your husband must love you very much.”

  Donata glanced toward the winery office and warehouse but quickly turned and pushed through the chairs and tables blocking her route to the tasting room.

  Sister Tiberia giggled. “Bravo,” she said. “I wish you’d let her go sooner, however, because I’d have a glass of wine by now with which to toast your performance. Did you see those heels? They must be at least four or five inches. Even my legs would look good in those.”

  “As much as I’d like to partake of my wine and salad, I’m afraid I’ll have to further explore the premises. I wonder if there’s a ladies room around here.” She handed her red cell phone to Sister Tiberia. “If I don’t return in ten minutes, call the police in Corsa Pietra.”

  Sister Tiberia stared at the contraption in front of her. “I’ve never used one of these before.”

  “Dial 1-1-2 and tell them to come immediately to the Amarena Balda Vineyard outside of Corsa Pietra,” said Sister Angela. She hesitated. “Tell them I choking.”

  Leaving her tote, Sister Angela navigated her way past the tables. No hands dared to reach out for her backside. When she got to the asphalt drive she turned toward the next set of doors. A large panel truck was parked in front of the entrance. Sister Angela peered inside the dark cavernous winery. It was quiet.

  She continued to the rear of the truck. The door was down, forming a ramp. Sister Angela peeked through the opening. No one was in the truck, but a few boxes were stacked in the far corner.

  Turning, she found a closed door and inched it open to glimpse inside. Suddenly the doorknob was wrenched from her grip. Someone was emerging from what appeared to be storage warehouse. The man stopped short and stared at the intruder.

  “I’m sorry,” said the nun. “I must be in the wrong place. I was searching for a restroom.”

  “You’re definitely not in the right place,” said Ermanno, gently pushing the nun out of the doorway and closing it behind him.”

  “Ah. I was having lunch at your tasting room, and I thought your wife pointed me in this direction.”

  “No. The restrooms are in back of the tasting room.”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said walking with him toward his office. “After lunch, my friend and I would like a tour. What time do you have tours?”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have any. It’s harvest time, and we’re very busy.” He slowed in front of the entrance to the cavernous winery. “And Donata isn’t my wife. She’s my brother’s fiancée.”

  Sister Angela had to think fast. She hadn’t yet learned what she needed. She repeated to Ermanno her story about knowing the former waitress before he could turn and leave her there. Ermanno stared at her. His jaw muscles twitched, and a crease formed on his brow.

  “Donata mentioned she replaced her about four years ago. I’m looking for the former employee you see. I’m a friend of the family and was asked by them to tell her they were thinking of her.”

  Ermanno took her arm and led her to his desk, situated on an island surrounded by steel drums and oak barrels.

  “Oh, this must be the winery. Surely someone can tell me how the grapes turn into your delicious Chianti.”

  Ermanno gestured to another worker. “Sister, this is Guillermo, my assistant. Would you please escort this woman…?”

  “Sister Angela,” the nun said.

  “Would you please give Sister Angela a tour of the premises? She’s interested in how we make wine.”

  “I have a team working on the press as you asked. I really should…”

  “The team can handle that. Sister Angela’s come a long way for a tour, and I’m asking you to make her wish come true.” Ermanno turned to face the nun. “You said you had a friend with you? I can go fetch her.”

  “Oh,” she said, trying to come up with an answer. “We planned to meet here after lunch. She has to work through the noon hour and…”

  “Are you saying she isn’t here yet?” he asked, interrupting her. He held her by the shoulder nearly shaking the response out of her.

  “Yes. She won’t be here for another hour.”

  “I’m afraid it’ll be too late for the tour in another hour,” he said, removing his hand.

  “That’s all right. I’ll take the tour by myself and tell her about it later.” She spun around to follow Guillermo’s retreating figure.

  They began at the large press just outside the back door. Guillermo abandoned her for a few minutes to instruct his team. Sister Angela took the time to look at her watch. Sister Tiberia would be calling the police in three minutes.

  “Sister,” said Guillermo. “I assume you’ve seen bunches of grapes before…”

  “Ah, what a beautiful scene. It makes me want to remain out here all day. Tell me, is that the farmhouse? The red of the tile roof is stunning against the blue sky. And look, beyond is Corsa Pietra. Family members can look across the valley whenever they want.”

  “Yes, that’s the family who owns Amarena Balda.”

  “Does Donata live there with her fiancée? I’m afraid I got her chatting about it when I saw her ring. How long have you worked here?”

  “I’ve been here nearly ten years. Let’s go inside. I can talk to you about fermentation.”

  “Just one moment. If you’ve been here ten years then you know about the woman whom Donata replaced.”

  The worker urged her toward the door. “Viviana? She hasn’t been here for a while.”

  “Yes. I’m a friend of the family, you know. They told me Viviana loved working here. I heard she left, but you know how family is. Was she fired?”

  Guillermo squeezed her arm and
forced her through the door.

  “What did I say?” she asked. “Did I say something?”

  Ermanno approached. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s asking about Viviana,” said Guillermo. “I’m not sure I should be the one to tell her anything about a previous employee.”

  “What do you want to know, Sister?” Ermanno demanded. “Please follow me. I can’t leave my work right now, but we can still talk.” He turned to leave.

  Sister Angela sped up to stay with him.

  “Tell me about Viviana’s family,” he said. “What do they want to know? Did the woman run away from them too?”

  The nun nearly tripped. What had the assistant said? Why had Ermanno assumed she was missing? He must know something about her demise. “It’s true I haven’t seen Viviana for several years. Her family never spoke of the situation. I assume that means she was fired and ran away ashamed.” Breathless, she continued. “I suppose your brother’s avvocato possesses the signed divorce papers.”

  Ermanno stopped. “What do you mean?”

  “No one would let Donata marry him unless Viviana was dead, or she and your brother were divorced.”

  He walked away, the long strides of his gait making the nun trot alongside. Sister Angela wasn’t watching where they were going. She had to concentrate. The nun slowed her pace. Letting her eyes scan his retreating figure, she searched for a weapon kept near his waist. She couldn’t make one out. The nun listened for sirens. Silence. Didn’t Sister Tiberia make the phone call?

  “Forgive me, but maybe this is a bad time to ask for a tour. I see we’re passing the entrance. I can leave now if it would be better for you.”

  “It’s a bad time to make your exit, Sister. My tour starts over here. If you wait for me inside this room, I can uncork some of the riserva so we can sip wine while I show you how fermentation works. He opened the door at the end of the winery and flipped on the light.”

  “What room is this?” she asked as the lights went out again. The door shut behind her. My guess is a jail cell.

  She made her way back to the door and flipped the light switch on the wall next to it. The bulb didn’t go on. She’d just have to sit and let her eyes adjust to the dark. She remembered catching a glimpse of stacked boxes on the opposite wall and inched her way forward until she found a box away from the taller stacks. Sitting down, she fingered her beads. A little prayer wouldn’t hurt. Why can’t I hear sirens?

  Sister Tiberia fumbled with the phone for five long minutes after the time she was supposed to call the police. Finally she managed to press 1-1-2 and explained where the two nuns could be found. The police in Roma put her on hold. She listened to the clicks until someone else picked up.

  “Is this Corsa Pietra?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “This is Sister Tiberia. My friend Sister Angela and I are at Amarena Balda Vineyard, but my friend’s turning blue. I think she’s choking. Please come as quickly as you can.”

  “Sister Angela from Castel Valori?”

  “Yes, but she’s actually from Montriano.”

  “Detective Sergeant Turo in Castel Valori told us to expect her. She never turned up here.”

  “We stopped at Amarena Balda to investigate, but she’s had an accident. Please, please hurry.”

  “We dispatched an ambulanza to Amarena Balda. Are there any other instructions?”

  “Please send a cruiser too. Look, this is just my opinion, but it might be wise if you don’t use your sirens. I think someone here at the winery might have committed a homicide.”

  “What?”

  Sister Tiberia held the phone away from her ear and instructed Donata to put the plates and glasses of wine on the table. “Sister Angela should be back in a minute. She left something in the Buick.” She waited until Donata was a few tables away before she placed the phone to her ear again. “We’re working on a homicide. We need help. I think Sister Angela’s in trouble.”

  The police cruiser slowly made its way up the drive. Sister Tiberia, wine glass in hand, wriggled past the busy tables and stepped out to greet it. Two more police cars soon followed. She ran up to the first and asked the uniformed man to open the window. Behind him, one of the policemen stepped out of his car.

  “Sister Angela went up the drive to the winery,” she told him.

  “Stay here,” he said, waving to the others to follow him.

  Donata stopped and stared at the group, a procession inching up the drive.

  The large warehouse had two doors. As the agents approached the first one, they noticed a nun emerging from the second.

  “There she is,” he said.

  She cocked her head, warning them that there was someone behind her.

  “Take cover,” he yelled as the rest of the agents scattered.

  The person holding the nun’s arm tried to pull her back into the storage chamber, but she refused, twisting out of his grip. That’s when the shooting began. At first, Sister Angela’s brain didn’t comprehend what was happening. When it did, she jumped back, spun around and scuttled around the corner of the building.

  It didn’t take long for the shooting to stop. Ermanno was the only armed man, and the police soon talked him into giving up his weapon.

  “Sister Angela, this is Agent Alba. It’s safe to come out now,” said the policeman in charge.

  When she didn’t appear, he went looking for her. He rounded the corner. She wasn’t there either. It was then he saw the farmhouse.

  Had she been shot? Following Sister Angela’s possible trail while scanning for bloodstains on the walkway, he made it to the dining area just outside the kitchen. All was quiet. Where was the nun?

  Sister Angela heard the creak of the kitchen door as the police entered the farmhouse. “There’s a gun pointed at my head,” she called out.

  The old woman slammed the butt against the equally hard back of Sister Angela’s head. She hit the floor face down with nothing to break her fall.

  Alba called out from the kitchen. “Put it down. My partner’s got his gun pointed directly at you.”

  Mamma de Capua spun around to investigate his claim and tripped over the nun’s conveniently-placed foot. Her gun hit the floor and went off, tearing through the painting of a Tuscan hill village on the wall.

  The agent offered Sister Angela his hand and helped her up. “Agent Alba,” he said. Then he picked up the weapon.

  A second policeman appeared in the kitchen doorway and stepped up to handcuff the old woman.

  “Thank you,” said Sister Angela. “I suspect, however, that we aren’t through. I believe Signora de Capua carried a gun to keep strangers out because she’s hiding someone.”

  “Let me do it,” Alba said. “You have a large bump on the side of your cheek.”

  “And on the back of my head.” The nun touched it and winced. “I’ll look around this area. Your men can take the top floor.”

  The group dispersed. Several minutes later, they reconvened at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I didn’t find a basement door,” said the nun. “There’s a tool shed or something I can see through the window. Come with me. It’ll probably be locked.”

  A padlock hung from the shed’s door latch. Alba pulled a small lever-like instrument off of his belt and slid it into the padlock. He hit the end of it with the butt of his gun, and the padlock fell apart.

  The nun opened the door wide and pushed aside a gas can and a few hand tools. In the corner lay a makeshift bed. She squeezed through stacks of pots and extra roof tiles. Her black curls stringy, the child pressed herself against the corner under a work table.

  “Pia? My name’s Sister Angela.”

  Sister Tiberia’s face emerged from behind her friend, and the child’s face suddenly lit up.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sister Tiberia slowed as she turned the Buick up the embankment in front of the convent. On the backseat, Pia, who slept in Sister Angela’s arms most of the way from Corsa Pietra
, roused.

  The front door opened, and the nuns tumbled out of the convent onto the porch.

  Pia smiled.

  “Do you want to greet them?” asked Sister Angela.

  Pia nodded and slid toward the door. She ran to them for a group hug.

  Emerging from the car, Sister Tiberia tried to warn them the child needed a bath, but no one seemed to care.

  “We must take the train to Siena at eight tonight,” Sister Angela told the prioress.

  “Detective Sergeant Turo told us about the rescue and also that you must leave. We’ve planned a little dinner party for five o’clock so friends in Castel Valori can say good-bye. The detective sergeant and Silvio will be coming. They can drive you to the terminal.”

  Mother Patrizia returned, placing an ice pack on Sister Angela’s cheek.

  Sister Tiberia took Pia’s hand and led her inside to the bathroom. “We’ll be ready in about a half-hour,” she announced.

  The detective sergeant and Silvio arrived as did Signor Petrini and Father Montez. The group stood around in the kitchen, waiting for Pia to appear. Sister Oriana had to rush to a shop in town and buy the child a dress because she was unable to clean the one Pia wore.

  Sister Tiberia walked a well-scrubbed Pia down the long hallway. Pia could hear the voices and scampered toward them.

  The prioress gave Pia some orange soda, something she bought for Sister Angela’s visit, and introduced her to the detectives and priest.

  When they got to Signor Petrini, the old man said, “Beep, beep,” and Pia giggled.

  Sister Concetta served up soup, and everyone sat down to supper.

  “How did you know to investigate Amarena Balda?” asked Turo when they were seated.

  “I didn’t. I just thought it was odd that this startup was growing so fast. It turns out they were bringing wines in from the Amalfi Coast and supplementing their own grapes with the Campanian wine. Their grapes would never have produced enough wine to export as much as they did. That crime wasn’t murder, but money often leads man to commit more serious crimes. Remember, I knew a woman had been killed in an automobile accident and that Pia was discovered in the same car. I just pretended that I was a friend of the family and started asking personal questions. Donata, the waitress and fiancée of Viviana’s widower, responded like she knew what I was talking about. I doubt she was aware that Giulio couldn’t remarry because he needed either a dead body or divorce papers signed by his wife.” The nun tore off a piece of bread. “Nocera was Ermanno’s assistant at Amarena Balda. Remember the old nun’s ring? He probably received it from the family for his dirty deeds. Nocera ended up our murder victim in Filari.”