Chianti Classico (13 page)

“Are you still serving espresso?”

“Yes, Sister. It’s late, but we can serve you coffee.”

“Please. Do you know how long we’re to wait here? I’ve someone picking me up at the terminal in Siena. I hope she doesn’t give up on me.”

“There’s something on the tracks. It’s very hush-hush.”

“I hope it isn’t a body or anything like that.”

“They haven’t told me anything. It could be a bomb for all I know.”

The nun stood to open the window. She leaned out and looked toward the locomotive. She couldn’t see anything. The coffee lady returned in five minutes with an espresso.

“Ooh, a cookie. How delightful?” said Sister Angela. “Have you heard anything more?”

“They’ve cleared whatever it was. We should be moving again in about five minutes.”

“Are the police there?”

“Yes,” the coffee lady said. “Two policemen came onboard and asked the conductor a few questions. The engineer would’ve been the only one who saw something though.”

“I didn’t see them come through.”

“No, they disembarked and walked toward the front of the train again. I think they wanted to know if anyone boarded the train when it stopped.”

“I didn’t see anyone new in this car. I suppose the conductor would be the person who remembered everyone.” The nun took a sip of her coffee. “Why would the police be involved? It would have to have been something important.”

“You mean they must think it’s something to do with terrorism?”

“I would’ve loved to speak with them myself. If it was a body, what did the body look like?” Sister Angela asked, mostly to herself.

“You have a strange obsession with murder, Sister,” said the coffee lady. “Most of the human victims who die on the tracks are suicides.”

The nun nibbled on her cookie and smiled at the coffee lady. “You’re right. It was probably a cow or some other animal. I don’t know why we would automatically think it was something more frightening.” She handed the coffee lady some coins. “Thank you for the refreshment. Hopefully we’ll get a tailwind that thrusts us into Siena on time.”

Empty cup in hand, Sister Angela descended the stairs and headed for the kitchen, shading her eyes from the sun that shone directly through the large windows.

“Good morning,” said Sister Daniela. “Do you need more coffee? I have breakfast ready for you. Don’t take too long. I still have to be at work.”

“Thank you, Sister. I appreciated you coming to pick me up at the terminal last night.”

“Aside from the train being late, I couldn’t wait to speak with you about what you found out.”

The older nun sat down at the table, and Sister Daniel poured her some juice. “I told you about the commotion on the tracks last night, didn’t I? I forgot to ask if you’d heard anything about it when you were waiting for me outside the terminal.”

“No. They said nothing. Only that you were late.” She placed the honey on the table beside the butter. Then she set a basket of hardboiled eggs in front of Sister Angela.

The nun positioned an egg in the cup and began to crack it with her spoon. Sister Daniela handed the older nun a plate with a croissant and finally sat down beside her.

“I might have to go into Siena and find out what the police know about it,” said Sister Angela. “What if it has to do with our investigation?”

“I don’t want to think about it. The idea of anybody being hit by a train makes me tremble.”

“I had other things to talk to the chief detective about too. I want to speak with him face to face. Perhaps he’s already considering the questions.” The older nun drew a long sip of her cooling espresso. “Ahhh,” she said. “The taste of espresso is a joy only second to that of Michel’s
riserva
.”

The two nuns trekked past La Barca’s Vineyard toward the orphanage.

“I don’t know if I told you, but Martino gave me a tour of his winery. It’s quite unlike Michel’s. The wine tastes different too.”

“Do you like it better or worse?” asked Sister Daniela.

“Just different. In my mind I can taste Martino’s going with strong meat—like game. We also found a piece of nun’s habit.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me on the ride home last night? Isn’t that the story Grazia told you? Did she really see a nun in La Barca’s vineyard?”

“Last night I concentrated solely on telling you what happened during my visit to the convent. Yes, it looks like Grazia really saw a nun. Martino evidently didn’t know anything about it until I mentioned the story. We both went to the spot where she saw the nun and looked around. He found a swatch of a nun’s habit. I was hoping to talk to the chief detective today. Maybe I can request a ride into town from Sister Liona.”

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve asked for the truck.”

“I’m sure Michel would love to have his truck for work. I’ll find a way to talk to the chief detective.”

Sister Daniela removed the keys from her pocket and let them in through the back door of the orphanage.

“We have a meeting in ten minutes,” said Sister Natalia, peering around the classroom door. “Ricco and Elmo are coming to update us on what they’ve found,”

“You go ahead,” Sister Daniela told Sister Angela. “I have to wait for my students so I can put someone in charge.”

Sister Angela followed Sister Natalia up the stairs and took a seat in the office off the TV room. Sister Edita entered and placed carafes of espresso at each end of the long table and a plateful of cookies in the center. The nun resisted the temptation to look at them, though the smell of fresh-baked cookies made her stomach rumble.

Soon after the nuns gathered around the table, the two detectives arrived. Sister Carmela rose and poured each man a cup of espresso and added cookies to their plates.

“Welcome back, Sister Angela. I hope your trip was successful,” said Pagano.

The nun smiled. “Maybe you can start by telling everyone about the swatch of cloth.”

“Yes. Unfortunately, we didn’t learn much. The results of tests will probably show nothing, except maybe something from Martino La Barca.”

“For those of you who haven’t heard,” said Sister Angela, “Martino found a torn piece of nun’s habit below one of his vines. That seems to verify the story Grazia told about seeing a nun in Martino’s field from the window upstairs the night of the abduction.”

“I sent a team to investigate the area. They found nothing else and no footprints.”

“What about my footprints? I was there. What about Martino’s footprints? He was all over that vine.”

“There were prints like someone had pulled a rake around the whole section of vines. Any evidence that people had been there was erased.”

“Oh my,” said Sister Angela. “Did they ask Martino about it?”

“Yes. He responded that someone who worked with him took a tractor to the area without consulting him.”

“Why did someone need to do that when the harvest’s around the corner? Perhaps you should bring that worker in?”

“I plan to bring both the worker and La Barca in,” said Pagano. “We also had a time look for footprints on the orphanage’s property again. If the old nun had trudged to the back of this building to get in, there would be footprints, right?”

“Presumably,” said one of the nuns.

“Well, we couldn’t find any.”

“Abiati,” said Sister Angela. “The gardener was preparing for a picnic outside the classroom. Perhaps he did something to smooth the dirt. You should probably question him too.”

“I’ll see that he’s interrogated. Did any of the children hear a door shut?”

“If it was at the back of the house, I doubt they would have heard it. It’s another floor down with a thick door at the top of the stairs.”

“That might mean the front door was never used,” said Pagano. “After all, I believe it was locked the next morning, wasn’t it, Sister Carmela?”

“I didn’t verify that. In the confusion, anyone could’ve unlocked the front door.”

“I also have a group checking into child sex rings in this area,” said Pagano.

“Good Lord, we don’t have any of those, do we?” asked a visibly-shaken Sister Carmela.

“We can’t identify where the organizations originate. As far as we know, they don’t have to exist in one place. All they need are a few people to infiltrate an area and seize a remote property. They pass the children on to the next level of the organization and ship them off to a destination.”

The nun groaned. “You don’t think…”

“As the days pass with no sign of the child or the old nun, it’s a possibility we have to face.” Pagano turned to Sister Angela. “What did you find in Castel Valori?”

“I spent several hours with the nuns at Sacro Cuore della Francesca. They told me about Pia. They didn’t know where she came from and were ashamed of their error of keeping the child there. They greatly admired the team of lawyers that handled the child’s transfer here. I had questions I mentioned to the Castel Valori police.”

“What do you mean, Sister?”

“As you know, the toddler was left at their doorstep. One of the nuns mentioned she heard the bell that someone was at the front door, whereupon she walked out and saw Pia crouched down beside the steps in the rain. I assume Pia was less than meter tall because that’s the average height for a two year old. I didn’t ask the nuns whether or not they thought she was large or small for her age.”

“She was about average height and weight when she was here,” said Sister Carmela. “I imagine they didn’t know that much about young children.”

“Then let’s accept that she was a meter. If you were that tall and stood on the front step, would you be able to use the bell? I stood at the door and rang the bell when I first arrived. The door was very thick and there was a crucifix where the door knocker would’ve gone. If anyone rapped on the door, no one inside would’ve heard it. A little rope stuck out the door just about the right side of my head. I reached up and pulled on the rope and heard the tinkle of the bell inside. No child could’ve reached that rope, and a young child wouldn’t have known that the rope led to a bell.”

“What are you saying?” asked Sister Natalia.”

“I’m saying that someone would’ve had to ring the bell that called the nun to the door. Someone purposefully left the child there. We have a witness. We just have to find him or her. I went to the local priest and inquired about confessions he’d heard about the case. He told me he knew no one in the parish that confessed to leaving a child or asked for help feeding the family. He did say something concerning the woman who informed him about the child kept by the nuns.”

“Could she have left the child?”

“She reported it after two years had passed. I believe she saw the child with one of the nuns on a walk and thought the situation incongruous. Father Montez couldn’t identify the penitent’s voice so I was unable to investigate that further.”

Soon after the meeting began, Sister Daniela quietly entered and sat down at the table. “Speaking of the gardener, he’s in the yard now if you, Chief Detective or Elmo, want to question him.”

Pagano nodded for his detective sergeant to detain Abiati. “What did the Castel Valori police say?”

“Not much. I presented the news stories to Detective Sergeant Turo. He told me the incidents had all been investigated and that there was no evidence a child was involved. Of course, at the time he wasn’t informed that a child was missing because she was living with the nuns at the convent. We have DNA. Unfortunately we no longer have a crime scene to match it to. I really need to find witnesses.”

“I suppose Turo didn’t offer to help you hunt for anyone.”

“No. I don’t blame him. The trail has reached a dead end. What about your theory concerning sex trafficking? How do you investigate that?”

“We have a few reports of missing children in the area. Some are probably runaways. Most of the children are teens or older so our first hunch is the children left voluntarily. In this new light, maybe we should start treating them as possible kidnappings. I’ll have a team go back to the families with open minds. Perhaps we should recheck computers, friends, and actions. If we can identify someone having something in common with those who disappeared, we might discover a sex ring operating in the area.”

The group dispersed, and Sister Angela followed Pagano out the back door to find Sacco holding Abiati. They located the detective sergeant sitting atop the picnic table. Abiati was raking the lawn on the side of the orphanage. When he saw them, the gardener stopped and approached them.