Free Chianti Classico by Coralie Hughes Jensen Page B

classroom windows.”
    “That was put in before my father retired to Naples.”
    “Was it because the nuns didn’t want the children to run all over the place?”
    “No, I believe La Barca wanted it put up. I guess he was afraid the children would crush his vines. I used to help myself to some of his grapes when I was young so I suppose he was right to fear a number of children might do even more damage.”
    “La Barca?”
    “Martino La Barca owns that winery. He’s okay, I guess. I don’t know him well, but no one complained about him.”
    “Oh yes. I think someone else mentioned his name. Do you think his wine has a good reputation? His vines don’t look as healthy as others in the area.”
    “I don’t know. His wine’s good enough. He isn’t a showy guy, if you know what I mean. He doesn’t become friendly with his neighbors. The nuns might know him better. I’m not sure. I really should get back to work.”
    “What are you doing?”
    “I’m putting out the picnic tables. The nuns want to have a barbeque with the kids. I don’t know why they decided to put them out this late in the season.”
    “I heard there was going to be a fundraiser in a week or so,” said Sister Angela. “Perhaps they need to make money to pay for their activities.” The nun walked back inside and to find Sister Daniela. She stopped when the gardener cleared his throat.
    “Just remember to return the keys to me as soon as you checked the room on the deck above us.”
    She waved the ring at him and smiled.

    “Mr. Abiati told me the story of the secret door. I’m not sure we found anything that can help us with the case.”
    Sister Daniela looked surprised. “Mr. Abiati?”
    “Gavino, the estate manager.”
    “Ah, I don’t know him that well. What did he say?”
    “That his grandfather, estate manager number one, lived down here until his death in the 70s. The room across the hall was his bedroom, and your classroom was his kitchen and living room. Estate manger number two, Gavino’s father, wasn’t interest in raising his family in the basement so the owner had him close off the room. According to Gavino, that was okay with him because it was spooky. When the nuns came, they had the Gavino build the closets along the wall on one side and tear down the living-area walls across the aisle to create the classroom. Gavino’s father decided on the secret door because he didn’t trust the nuns. He thought they’d change their minds and want him to make the area bigger. Evidently, no one ever told the nuns the room was there.”
    Sister Daniela sat down. “So Mr. Abiati doesn’t think anyone has been in there for years. That’s strange. The bed and stuff on the bed was just left there? I swear I’ve heard noises coming out of there on occasion.” She stood and grabbed her bag.
    “Stop right there,” said Sister Angela. “You can’t drop a bombshell like that and then just walk out. You’re perfectly aware the pipe for the furnace passes through that room to that side of the house. That must be the noise.”
    Sister Daniela smiled and opened the classroom door. “I’d love to get home and take a bath. I sure hope Michel and Susanna have leftovers so we can just heat up something.

    Because you’re from Montriano, Sister, you must know that the wines in both areas are only subtly different,” said Michel, leading the nun between the rows of vines. “The grapes we have here are Sangiovese.” He reached down to pluck a bunch from one of the vines. Flipping a grape into his mouth, he closed his eyes as if in prayer. “These are fine grapes and just about ready. Please have one or two. Don’t throw away the rest. I’m sure Dani and Susanna would love some too.”
    “They’re very nice,” the nun said after tasting one.
    “The Sangiovese grapes are extremely sensitive to our weather and our soil. The aromas seem to be different, depending on what we put into our soil. The sandier the soil the more flowery