Chianti Classico (12 page)

“I’ve asked him that,” said Mother Patrizia. “He tells me he wouldn’t reveal the details of anyone’s confession to us. But he might tell you if someone had talked about anything that had to do with the case.”

“Well, that’s all I have to ask you,” said Sister Angela. “I’ll call you if I learn anything new. My train leaves at seven, and I want to talk to the police on the way to the terminal. I’d better start back now.”

“Can we give you any nourishment before you go, Sister?” asked Sister Baptiste.

“No, I’ll be fine,” she said as she stopped once more on the steps to look at the spot where Pia had crouched in the rain. Then she closed the door and started down the steps to the dusty road.

She had walked about twenty minutes in the blazing sun when it suddenly hit her.
Who rang the bell?
She turned to look back at the convent, but it was well out of sight.
Would a two year old be able to reach the doorbell? Of course not. Someone was with her. Someone has to know the story of how Pia got to the convent.

The rhythm of the tracks nearly lulled the nun to sleep. Was it the fact that she was returning with little new information? Maybe her blood sugar was low. She’d failed to take the time for decent meal. She rummaged through her tote and pulled out the apple she bought from the cart in Castel Valori. Then she settled back to think about what had happened.

On her way back into town, she’d stopped at a market and purchased an orange soda and a yogurt. Why hadn’t she accepted the nuns’ offer of a meal? She sat at a table on the large piazza in the shade of an umbrella, whipping in a wind that began to blow up.

She stared at the church at the far corner of the piazza, its grand Romanesque style sported an imposing quadrangular bell tower. The prioress had explained that the church was built for an order of Augustinian hermits in the thirteenth century and had been visited by Martin Luther in the sixteenth. She suggested that Sister Angela examine the large collection of art inside.

I’d love to
, she mused.
But unfortunately I’m still on duty.

Feeling refreshed, Sister Angela stood and crossed the piazza, entering the church at the side door and sitting in the pew just inside. She saw the priest kneeling at the altar in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary but dared not interrupt him. After a few minutes, he crossed himself, stood, and spun around to approach the visitor.

“How can I help you, Sister?” he asked. “Do I know you?”

“No. I’m looking for Father Montez.”

“I’m Father Montez. Do you have a question?”

“I’m Sister Angela from Montriano. I’m investigating the disappearance of Pia, the toddler that lived at the convent here in Castel Valori. Do you know who I’m talking about?”

“I’ve spoken with the police…”

“I plan to talk with the police before I leave.”

The priest slid into the pew beside her. “I’m afraid I know very little, Sister.”

“Tell me how you found out she was with the nuns at the convent.”

“One Saturday, a parishioner came to the confessional and said she’d seen one of the nuns with a child. I can’t tell you who it was because…”

“I understand—your vows.”

“Not only that, but I didn’t recognize the voice. She must not have come to church often because I would’ve recognized her voice.”

“Do you think she was from out of town?”

“Sister, I know you’re aware of the problems concerning young people coming to church.”

“She was young?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’m just saying that while ninety-five percent of the townspeople are baptized Catholics, a much smaller percentage actually participate in the Mass or sacraments beyond baptism or extreme unction. I can only tell you she told me she’d seen a nun with a small child. My first inclination was to ignore her observation. We have lots of nuns in and around Castel Valori, and those nuns have nieces and nephews who come to visit them. But prayer kept bringing her insignificant gossip back into my mind. I decided to pay a visit to the convent—just in case.”

“Did you tell them you were coming?”

“Of course, I gave them a few days to make sure they were ready for a visitor. I don’t think they receive many. Then, at the designated time, I rang their bell. They served me coffee, and we talked about the church news. I didn’t go inside farther than their parlor, and all was quiet. I asked to use the facilities, and one of the nuns showed me the way. It was there that I noticed it.”

“What gave them away?”

“There was a paper towel laid out for me, and I washed my hands and dried them. I turned to find a wastepaper basket near the sink—the kind you opened by pushing down on a lever with your foot. I was never the athletic type, Sister. I once tried the trick with the football where you sort of kick it and it pops back up so you can balance it on top of your foot. I couldn’t balance it. I kicked it into my face, breaking my nose.”

The nun listened to his amusing story, amazed that he’d be so honest.

“I pressed the pedal on the trash contraption and somehow broke it, dumping over its contents. I quickly bent over to pick up the paper and such and found a diaper. Well, it was actually a little girl’s pair of panties, Sister. I was shocked but still held onto hope that there was an innocent explanation.”

“I see. What did you do?”

“I stood the can upright. I’m afraid I couldn’t find the broken pedal that had managed to escape the wrath of my foot. Then I carried the panties into the foyer. I’ve never seen so many distraught faces in one room before. I asked for one of them to get the child.”

Sister Angela had her hand over her mouth.

“I asked if they had some sort of permission to have the child at the convent. They explained she’d been left there. They said they didn’t know what to do with her. The nuns were aware they’d crossed some sort of line. I told them I’d go to the police. When I left I felt terrible. The child was very young, but she seemed to be attached to them. She’d evidently lived with them awhile.”

“Did you work with the police to find a place for the toddler?”

“No. It was out of my hands. The Church didn’t need another scandal. We have too few parishioners as it is. This is an expensive church to keep afloat. Our income’s shrinking.”

“Have you tried to charge tourists for the privilege of looking at the beautiful artwork here?”

In a grand gesture, Father Montez gazed in all directions. “I can’t even get tourists to come in when it’s free.”

Sister Angela leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes. The click-clack of the tracks was relaxing, but her mind still raced. Had the police sergeant taken her seriously? If so, his face didn’t show it. Detective Sergeant Este Turo listened to some of the nun’s theories as she sat across the desk from him. He was young with short light brown hair and green eyes. He was so still Sister Angela had to force her gaze from his as she spoke.

“I looked through the papers at the time that Pia was dropped off at the convent, Detective Sergeant. There were events in the area that could’ve produced a situation where a child might become parentless. I assume each incident was thoroughly investigated.” She looked for a response but he gave none. “For example, there was an avalanche in the hill above Alceda.”

“Yes,” he finally said. “There were three deaths and even more injuries. The hillside was scoured. There were no other bodies, and no one else was reported missing. Don’t you think we would’ve heard that someone was missing by now?”

“There was also a bank robbery here in town. Could there have been some sort of kidnapping with that?”

“No. The robbers were captured.”

The nun squirmed. “Certainly you’re sure they were the ones involved. They wore masks. Were the masks found?”

“Yes the masks were in the getaway car. They drove their own vehicle so there was no other driver.”

“But…”

“Okay, I see your point. There may have been another suspect waiting for them, but neither suspect revealed such a partner. Most of the time, this type of criminal makes sure he isn’t the only one taking the blame. All the money and goods were recovered.”

“Not if the additional partners were relatives.”

“You’re correct, but you have to admit, Sister, that it’s a stretch to believe an armed thief would commit an unrelated kidnapping or murder.”

“There was also a car accident close by.”

“We do have accidents…”

“But this one was different. The newspaper revealed that the car had a dent that indicated the driver had been forced off the road.”

“Yes, if I remember correctly, the driver died. Hit-and-run accidents aren’t uncommon. There was no evidence that there were other passengers in the car. Do you think the offender got out of the other car, stole the child, and then delivered it to the nuns? I suppose that’s possible. The other driver could’ve felt guilty and feared harm would come to child, but why take all the evidence of the toddler’s existence? There would’ve been some sort of car seat, toys, or blanket—items the nuns didn’t find on the child. The story isn’t very convincing.”

The nun looked at her notes. “There was a pile-up in Poppi with three people killed.”

“That’s a bit farther away. I believe the Poppi police looked into that one. I don’t see the connection. Maybe you should ask
them
.”

The nun sat back. “What theories do you have, Detective Sergeant?”

“We believe the child was probably left because the parents no longer thought they could take care of her. We checked around Castel Valori and found no one who would’ve done that. We collected DNA but found no relatives.”

“Therefore you believe someone outside the area left her at the convent because nuns would be able to care for the child.”

“It could also been someone from outside the country.”

The nun’s brows shot up involuntarily. “That doesn’t ring true to me, Detective Sergeant. Why would nonnatives feel the child would be safer among people of a different culture?”

“I’m talking about refugees of some sort. You know Italy’s a gateway into Europe, Sister. Suppose a refugee feared he or she would be deported to the home country. What’s safer than dropping off an anonymous child? Italy wouldn’t expel a child, especially when the authorities didn’t know which country she came from.”

“I see. You’re saying that the refugees are escaping from some sort of war-torn area. I understand how difficult it might be to track such a child. What I don’t understand is what interest someone may have in the child now. You’re aware Pia was kidnapped. Perhaps the parents came back and tracked the child to Filari. Worried they might be captured and deported again, they stole the child instead of asking the nuns at the orphanage or the police for their child back.”

“I’m not included in the search for the child. I don’t know what theories the Siena police have. Your conjecture’s just as good as any other.”

The nun stood. “I really must get the train,” she said. “I do hope when I return we can work together on finding her.”

“Are you planning to return, Sister?”

“I believe the kidnapping in Filari’s related to the original drop off at the convent here. Finding out more about Pia will help us uncover where she is. Perhaps she isn’t an Italian citizen, but she’s still a beloved child. I’m not ready to let any six year old end up in the hands of criminals. I also believe you have more interest in the case than you reveal.” She smiled. “I look forward to working with you, Detective Sergeant. Here’s my email address. I’d appreciate it if you’d give your files a peek and send me other things that might have happened around Castel Valori that didn’t make the papers.”

The detective sergeant stood and shook her hand.

The nun roused when she heard the train horn. She shaded her eyes to see what she could out the window. On the hillside, a few lights twinkled. Was the train slowing? She stopped the conductor as he passed her seat. “Are we entering Siena?”

“No, Sister, there’s something on the tracks ahead.”

“Is it common for this train to stop when something’s on the tracks? I hope they aren’t bandits.”

The conductor smiled but also continued to appear concerned. He vanished through the door at the end of the aisle.

The train remained in one spot for nearly thirty minutes. Sister Angela gestured to the coffee lady, who pushed her cart down the aisle.