Chianti Classico (6 page)

“Uh-huh,” the little girl, nodding her head up and down. “Witches don’t exist. I must have dreamt of Pia.”

“Who told you witches don’t exist?”

“Sister Carmela. She told me the next morning. I must have had a dream.”

The morning passed with little new information. Sister Angela questioned both Elenora and Liliana. Neither child remembered anything other than waking up and not seeing Pia.

Right before the break for lunch, Grazia suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“Good morning. Grazia, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you sleep in this room?”

“No.” Brushing aside her wavy black hair, Grazia took the nun’s hand and pulled her up. “My room’s one floor down. We can go down there now so you can see my things.”

“We talked to you yesterday. Maybe you remember something new? How old are you, Grazia?”

Grazia didn’t answer. She led the nun down the stairs to the first landing. “I’m in the first room here.”

“I see. It’s a lovely room. Which is your bed?”

“The one closest to the door. Last year, I failed to get up in time and wet the bed. They put me here so I could get to the toilet easier.”

“But the night before last, you weren’t in the bathroom when the stranger entered the house, were you.”

Grazia removed her shoes and sat in the middle of the bed cross legged, her hands twisting the blanket. She stared at the nun with serious dark eyes.

Sister Angela sat down beside her. “I know because of your sketch here.” She handed the drawing to Grazia. “Tell me how you knew what the visitor looked like.”

“I saw her.”

“Why did you make up the story about seeing a shadow?”

“Because I was up late. Sister Carmela says that I’m not to leave my bed at night, but I can’t sleep.”

“So you didn’t go down to use the toilet. You were up. Go on.”

“It was a warm night. We don’t have a window in our room so it gets hot. I got up like I often do and walked over to the window off the landing.”

“Show me.”

The little girl padded out the door.

Sister Angela followed. “It was dark in the hallway. How could you see to walk?”

“There was a full moon. It was like it was daytime outside. I walked to the window. There’s always a chair near it. I opened the window and sat down.”

“How long were you there?”

Grazia shrugged her shoulders. “I just stared outside. There was a barn owl.
Screech
,
screech
,” she cried out. “They don’t hoot, they roar like lions and tigers. It was scary. I tried to see where it was. The moonlight lit up the rows of grapes on the other side of the fence. Do you see the grapes, Sister?”

“Yes. The fence is about six or seven meters from the wall.”

“She was there.”

Dumfounded, the nun grew silent.

“She was standing when I first looked out.”

“Was she on this side of the fence or in the vineyard?”

Grazia gazed in the direction of the grapevines, her brows knit. “She must have been on the other side of the fence because she wasn’t that big. She saw me, and for a second, we just stared at each other. Then she backed up and crouched down between the rows. Maybe she thought I didn’t see her from up here, but I did.”

“Was her habit like mine or was it more like Sister Carmela’s?”

“More like Sister Carmela’s.” Grazia seemed to avoid making eye contact with the nun and stared at the wall. “Her ring—the one that Jesus gave her when she married him—glittered in the moonlight. I couldn’t look away.”

“Come with me, Grazia.”

The two descended the stairs and crossed the foyer to the front door. Sister Angela walked down the steps and turned to gesture for the little girl to follow. They walked around the side of the building, and the nun looked up to see the window.

“Okay, you stood to look out of that window, right?”

“Yes.”

“And she waited behind that fence?”

“She stood more in front of the end of the row.”

“In order to come into the house, she would’ve had to travel down this fence to the road,” said Sister Angela.

“You don’t think she climbed it?”

“You didn’t see her leave?”

“No. I had to pee. I went downstairs to pee.”

“And you didn’t hear or see anything while you used the toilet.”

“No. I went back upstairs.”

“Did you look out of the window again?”

“Yes. She was gone, and I went to bed. I must have slept immediately because I didn’t hear anything else.”

“I want you to go back upstairs and look down at me. I’m not going to climb over the fence. There seems to be a gate near the road. I’ll walk down the drive and come up on the vineyard side. I want you to tell me how well you can see me from there, and I want to find out if I can see you. Then we’ll switch, okay?”

The nun hobbled down the drive. The gate opened easily, and she was able to make it back in front of the window without tiring too much. When she looked up, she saw Grazia bending over the window sill so she could gaze in all directions.

“Did you lean out that night?”

“Yes.”

“Pretend I’m the nun. Was I here or closer to the vines?”

“Back just in front of the vines. I can see your face better because of the sun.”

“So I get a good look at you, though your face was probably in the shadow because the moon wasn’t directly facing you, right?”

“The moon was shining over the backyard. I could only view the moon from here when I leaned forward and looked up.”

“And after seeing you, she retreated into the vines and flowers, like this?”

“Yes, the end vine.”

“There must have been more shadows. How could you see her?”

“She was taller than you and wore a white wimple that glowed in the dark.”

The two switched places. Climbing the stairs, Sister Angela could smell lunch and felt her stomach rumble. She watched Grazia walk toward the spot in front of the vines.

When Grazia looked up, she shaded her eyes. “I can’t see you that well, Sister.”

“The bright moon probably made it difficult for her to see you very clearly too. No wonder she thought she could hide from you by crouching among the vines.”

“But can you see me?”

“Yes. I can see you very clearly, even when you duck down. We have to get to lunch or there might be nothing left. Be sure you secure the gate as you come back.”

“Sister, do you believe me now?”

I’m afraid I do, child. And the sight of a woman in the vines at night would have scared me too.

Sister Daniela marched the last of her students out the door and instructed them to begin their homework in the dining room upstairs. She turned and ran into Detective Sergeant Sacco.

“I was just coming to look for you,” she said.

“Sister Angela told me you wanted to see me. What can I do for you?”

She hesitated. In her mind, she tried to form the question clearly. “I was told your team checked the laundry at the end of the hall the morning we reported the child missing. Is that correct?”

“Yes.
I
checked the laundry room myself. Has something changed?”

“Yes, uh no. Please follow me.” She approached the door and tried the knob. “It’s locked,” she said, fumbling with the key ring in her pocket, trying to identify the correct key by feel. “I suppose Sister Natalia’s still keeping the children out. Heaven only knows how many loads of wash will be waiting for us.”

Finally opening the door, she reached inside to turn on the light. Sacco pointed his flashlight to allow her to find the switch, and soon, the lights buzzed on.

“Did you notice something that looked out of place?” he asked.

She led him to the vent on the side wall. “This vent,” she said. “It has a screw missing on one corner, and the other screws are loose.”

“Can you verify that it wasn’t like that before the incident?” he asked, donning rubber gloves and pulling out the remaining screws. He dropped them into a plastic bag he pulled from his pocket. Then he removed the grate.

“Yes. I’ve noticed this grate often, though I rarely come in here—maybe once a week.”

Sacco looked at her over his shoulder, his brows raised.

“It’s filthy. I wanted to take it off and wash it. Look around the rest of the washroom. It’s tidy. But the grate…”

Sacco flashed his light into the remaining hole.

Sister Daniela bent over to examine it. “Is it a venting pipe? Wait. Turn off the flashlight.”

Sacco turned it off.

“Where’s that light coming from?”

He handed her the flashlight, and she shone the light around the edges.

“No wonder it’s dirty,” she said. “There’s no ventilation duct here. We’re exchanging air with the wall. Look, the space is wide enough to crawl through.”

“But nothing to support someone’s weight. I don’t think anyone crawled through there.” Sacco stood up, picking up the loose grate.

“Light seems to be coming from the left. Did you see it?”

“I’ll need a plastic bag for this evidence. I still think it’s nothing. Maybe the light played a trick on you so you thought the screws weren’t loose before.”

“But wait. Come with me outside.” She took his hand and led him down the hall to the outside door. “Look at the basement from out here. The hallway’s in the middle. What’s between the back door and the far wall? There must be another room.”

The detective sergeant ambled around the outside walls of the orphanage. Then he walked back inside. “There are small windows on the side until the level of dirt eventually covers the whole wall toward the front. But I would guess it’s just dirt. The ground probably rises on the inside too. It’s most likely only crawl space.”

“Why wouldn’t they at least dig deep enough to give this place more storage?”

“I don’t know why. It was built more than a century ago. I can’t ask anyone.”

“There has to be a door. The kitchen’s above it. What if they needed to fix the pipes?”

Sacco exhaled and wiped his brow. “Is there a plastic bag for this grate in the closet?”

“My guess is they’d put an entrance on the inside. Let’s try the supply and electrical closets off the hallway. This is getting exciting, isn’t it?”

“I’m Sister Angela from Montriano. You’re Evelina,” she said, “You’re sixteen. Am I correct?”

“Yes, Sister, I heard you were helping the police.”

The nun stood. She was full from her lunch and felt a bit sleepy. “Could you show me your room?”

The nun followed her into the room next door. “I sleep in the bed right here by the door.”

“You’re the closest to the landing. Did you see or hear anything that night?”

“No. I saw nothing. Unfortunately, I slept through the whole thing.”

“In the next room, Grazia said she got up that night because she couldn’t sleep.”

“Yes, but she doesn’t know what time it was, and I didn’t see her. She often gets up at night, you know. Sister Carmela told her that she mustn’t leave her room, but Grazia often has trouble taking direction. I suppose Sister Carmela’s thankful she doesn’t go down the stairs until she has to use the toilet.”

“Did you hear from anyone else on this floor that saw or heard something?”

“No. I’ve asked each one of them. Grazia’s the only restless one on this floor.”

“Grazia mentioned that you have something to do with locking the doors at night. Tell me about that.”

“I go around when we retire and check the doors.”

“About what time?”

“We have to have our lights out by ten, Sister.”

“And what do you do between dinner and ten?”

“Some of us finish homework, some play games, and others watch TV in the sitting room at the bottom of the stairs.”

“So, at nine-thirty you go around and make sure the place is locked. What about Sister Carmela?”

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t she check too?”

“She’s usually busy doing work in her office.”

“Where’s her office?”

“It’s off the kitchen. We don’t disturb her. She has a bed in there. She sleeps here during the day.”

“I thought she slept at Mission House.”

“No, she attends services and plans for supplies. She’s really pretty busy and stays here so she can work longer hours.”

“So at nine-thirty or so the night before last, you went around the house to lock the doors.”

“Actually it was closer to ten.”

“You remember doing it?”

“Yes. I told the sisters and the inspectors that I did that. I remembered right away.”

“At one point, Grazia told us she heard you check the door in the middle of the night. You say you were asleep.”

“I was in bed by lights out and didn’t awaken until morning.”

“So when you lock the doors, what route do you take?”

“I lock and test all of the doors. I go to the back door off the kitchen first. Then I go to the front door before checking the one in a nurse’s office at the end of the hall beyond the bathroom. That room’s rarely used now as we don’t have a nurse on duty fulltime. The door’s always locked, but I check it anyway.”

“And the basement?”

“I don’t lock the basement. Sister Daniela’s in charge of locking that one.”

“What about if someone has gone out and come back late?”

“There are keys to the basement in Sister Carmela’s quarters. We can borrow one if we need to go out and can’t return until after ten.”

In the afternoon, Detective Sergeant Elmo Sacco was called to another incident. He told Sister Daniela he’d return as soon as possible and asked her to wait for him to help investigate further. Sister Daniela wasn’t one to wait for anyone, however.

In the classroom, Sister Daniela asked Allegra to come to her desk. “Allegra, I believe you prepared a special lesson plan for when I needed to leave. You should practice if you want to go to teaching college and become one like me. Could you help me now?”

Allegra smiled. “Yes, Sister, I’m ready.”

The nun stood and talked to the class. “I won’t be far so if I hear anyone making trouble, I’ll be back in a few minutes. I don’t think any of you’d do anything to jeopardize Allegra’s future, would you?”

Sister Daniela stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind her. She walked back to the laundry room and, opening the door, reached in to switch on the light. Her eyes went straight to the gaping hole in the wall. Only Pia could’ve made it through the hole into some kind of closed-off room. Suddenly waking up from her thoughts, she grabbed a white apron from the wall and returned to the hallway. Rolling up her sleeves and removing her veil before slipping into the apron, Sister Daniela turned to the first closet along the wall opposite the classroom.

This closet contained four shelves that wrapped around the small, walk-in storeroom. A year’s worth of cleaning supplies sat on each shelf. It would take her forever to move them and examine the wall behind the shelves. She started immediately, clearing two shelves facing the front.

I don’t see anything here. There should be an opening on the back wall, but it’s sealed. Maybe there’s a pass-through near the floor.

The nun took out the cans and bags on the bottom shelf. There was no sign of an opening there either. Instead of replacing the supplies, she immediately moved to the next tiny room, the coat closet. It was summer, but winter would soon come, and every child would need a jacket to stay warm. Inside the walk-in closet, neat rows of boots lined the walls beneath hanging coats of all sizes. Stacked next to the entrance were umbrellas. On a high shelf, hats, socks, and gloves were piled high.

She smelled it first. Yes, these shoes had been in puddles and mud, but in addition, the strong scent of the earth seemed to permeate the stale air. The boots along the back wall were all lined up, but not so neatly as the ones against the side walls. A few had toppled over, but they didn’t seem to affect most of the others. A wisp of air blew across Sister Daniela’s face. She sucked in the air as a chill ran up her sweaty back. Stepping forward, she grabbed the pole full of hangers and pulled hard. The wall behind it pushed her backward. The opening widened.

“Who’s there?” she whispered into the musty room. The small windows along the top of the far wall let light in, but the dust and dirt, displaced by the sudden opening, made it difficult for the nun to see anything.

Sister Daniela squeezed through the opening and felt her way forward. She scraped the foundation under her feet. This room wasn’t a crawlspace. The cement floor proved that. At one time, it must have been part of a larger basement. She’d have to get the plans from Mother Faustine and see what it was used for before the closets and the classroom were added.

She inched forward and tripped over an object on the floor. The dust roiled again, and she covered her nose with her sleeve. She felt her heart in her throat. “Who’s here?” she asked, but silence answered.

Sister Daniela turned and moved in farther. Perhaps she could open one of the windows to clear out some of the dust. Standing on her tiptoes, she tugged on the handle of the one closest to her. It wouldn’t budge. She could see the loose soil against the pane as the ground rose outside. Perhaps the window was stuck because it was partially underground. She moved a few feet toward the back of the building and tried the next window. It too held fast.

Have these window ever been opened?
she asked herself. Her head ached as she choked on the particulates she inhaled.
Maybe coats of paint have stuck the windows to their frames.

She inched her way to the window closest to the back wall. This is the last one. Maybe I should go into the hallway and wait for Elmo. One tug and the window flew open, letting in the warm, humid breeze to replace the stale air.