Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures) Page 5

  Mina’s head was exploding. She needed reassurance, not more stress. She couldn’t find any empathy for Brian’s plight. In a way, she thought he had it coming.

  “Brian, I am so sorry, I can’t help you. I wish I could, but I’m not feeling well at all. I need to hang up.” Click.

  Chapter 7

  Mina woke to the smell of coffee. Margo? She must have spent the night on the couch. Such kindness and loyalty were very moving. She got out of bed, and stood. She felt well enough to walk down the hall, a much easier walk than the one she'd taken the morning before. Sunshine hurt her eyes. She could see the patio door slightly open, and Margo out on the terrace, a mug in her hand, looking over the low wall that separated Mina’s terrace from the neighbors’. Except, there was no neighbor. The condo next to hers was vacant.

  Margo’s lips moved. Maybe she was humming a song.

  “Hi Margo.” Mina stuck her head out the sliding door.

  “There you are.” Margo looked genuinely happy to see her, yet the wide smile seemed directed at the empty neighboring terrace. Who was she waving at?

  Before Mina could ask, Margo came back in. She wore the same clothes she had on the day before, full make up, and hair that looked like she just left a stylist’s chair. Good old Margo.

  “You never told me how handsome your neighbor is.” Margo's chandelier earrings hit her neck every time she moved her head.

  “I didn’t tell you because I don’t have a neighbor. The place next to mine is for rent.”

  “Was for rent. The man’s a real charmer. He is single. Yes siree, dark, handsome and single. Trifecta, I tell you.” She adjusted her shirt over her full bust. “I’ll be visiting you more often. Want some coffee? We need to be at the office by eleven. I’m under direct orders to make sure you are delivered on time and look like a powerful junior V.P. or close to it.” She laughed. “You have ninety minutes so get in the shower and begin the transformation.”

  Mina thought about the so-called neighbor. When did he move in? Asking Margo how old he was would open up a new line of gossipy questioning. She went into the kitchen and poured herself some coffee. That’s when she remembered she didn’t have her car. Probably the main reason for Margo’s presence. Maledizione. Hit and run? Her little Bug wouldn’t hurt a fly. Okay, she once hit a bird. More like the bird hit the windshield. You would have thought the creature wanted to commit suicide. Do birds commit suicide? She walked down the hall thinking about birds.

  In the guest bathroom, Margo was singing Bolton’s latest hit, “When a Man Loves a Woman," imitating his signature falsetto.

  Mina turned on the shower. That the jet of water drowned out Margo’s singing was a plus.

  “You look perfect.” Margo glanced at Mina sitting next to her. They were approaching West Coast Software. Mina couldn’t believe she let Margo talk her into wearing that long corduroy skirt and suede boots. She didn’t mind the tailored shirt and the knitted jacket though. She’d had those old things forever, had stuffed them in the back of the closet when she unpacked. Somehow Margo found them. Was this the way a junior V.P. dressed? Whatever, she could always blame it on Margo.

  “Margo, what’s my new neighbor’s name?”

  “I dunno.”

  “You know he is single, but you don’t know his name?”

  “I could see he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.”

  “He never spoke to you, did he? You are making this up.”

  “It isn't making things up. It’s wishful thinking. You should try it sometime.”

  “So, what happened? He was out on the terrace getting a suntan in December? He must be a tourist.”

  “He was unpacking and putting boxes outside on the terrace. When I said ‘hi,’ he looked surprised. Maybe he also assumed the condo next to him was vacant. Then he smiled, picked up his boxes and went back inside. End of story. Happy?”

  “Oh, stacking empty boxes on the terrace, lovely.”

  “I don’t know if the boxes were empty. They weren’t really boxes, more like metal containers. Yeah, silver metal containers. Not all the same size. And he did carry every single one back into the condo.”

  “How bizarre.”

  Paco and Adams were already waiting in the office. The group of investors arrived before Mina had time to do much talking. Same group of men as before, all wearing dark suits. The youngest one, the interpreter, seemed to be the only happy one of the bunch. They sat around the conference table. Briefcases were opened and papers were passed around. Mina pretended great interest just as Adams instructed her to do.

  Numbers covered the papers. Mina understood some numbers represented money, others represented people, workers, those who would be let go. By his controlled breathing and the way his fingers gripped the documents, Paco didn’t seem too happy. Poor Paco, he felt so responsible for all the people he hired. Adams pushed a typed page in front of her with a scribbled a note, Try to look as if you like what’s been offered.

  Mina smiled and nodded, a puppet on a string.

  Adams spoke in a soft voice. “Gentlemen, this is a lot to digest. I think we have all the information necessary to make our decision. If you don’t mind, we will need to sleep on this, and then we’ll be in touch with your office. Let’s say tomorrow afternoon?”

  The minute the last dark suit left the room, Paco exploded. “They aren’t coming in to expand this business. Their plan is to take the parts they want, facilitate a major reconstruct, and do who-knows-what with the rest. If they own a majority interest, they could do it. They could do whatever they want, but I’m not going to allow this to happen. I have responsibilities, commitments. People’s lives depend on West Coast Software.” His passion painted his face the color of a California raisin.

  “I understand, Paco.” Nothing fazed Adams. “That’s why I told them we need to sleep on it. I’m sure we can find a way to make this work. Their offer is generous, to say the least.”

  As the two men continued to discuss the pros and cons of the proposal, Mina decided it was a good time to pay a prolonged visit to the ladies’ room. When she stepped into the reception area, she was surprised to see the investors’ translator. He appeared to be flirting with Margo, but could just as easily have been eavesdropping. He left the minute Mina headed his way.

  “Why was he still here?”

  “He asked about French restaurants," Margo pouted, "but I think he really intended to ask me out until you showed up and spoiled the fun.”

  Just another day in the life of Margo.

  She took shelter in the resonant calm of the women's restroom, wishing for some genuine interest in selling the business. Mina felt a deep guilt over her lack of involvement in what her mother had created. It was too bad she wasn't more like her mother.

  If the investors took over West Coast Software, the last link to her mother’s American business would be out of her life forever. Mina found a sense of relief at the thought. After all, it was because of West Coast Software Paola was murdered.

  Between this and the argument with Brian, the last twenty-four hours had been pretty lousy, even without the Angelina nightmare.

  She checked out the troubled young woman in the mirror and realized she forgot her mascara that morning. Yeah, Angelina’s hot cocoa screwed up her mind for sure. She washed her hands, ran her fingers through her hair and reached for the door handle. She couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. That was Margo’s specialty.

  Adams was waiting for her. “Finally, Mina, we need to go.”

  “Go where?” She didn’t like his tendency to drop surprises on her and expect blind obedience, even if it was meant for her own good, as he kept reminding her. She was old enough to make her own mistakes. One of these days she would tell him, too.

  “To see Dan.”

  “DeFiore?”

  “Yes, Dan DeFiore, the detective. Call him what you like, we are paying him a visit. Let’s go.”

  “Good. Are you going to make him give me back my Bug?” />
  “We’ll see. We're headed to Dan’s office in case my secretary calls here," he turned to Margo, "then I’ll take Mina home.”

  Take Mina home? What happened to getting her car?

  She sat in Adams’s comfy Lincoln, stewing. The only reason she didn’t object to the car ride was the hope of driving herself home in her sweet 1978 Volkswagen.

  “Truthfully, Mina, what do you think about a merger for the company?” Adams asked.

  The question took her by surprise for two reasons. She didn’t think anyone cared about her opinion, and she hadn’t expected Adams to bring up the subject when Paco wasn’t there.

  “Huh, I don’t know. I don’t understand the business part of it, don’t know the difference between a merger and a sale but it seems to me if Paco feels so strongly about it, he should get as much money as possible and start his own company. That way he can help all the workers he cares about.”

  Adams laughed, an amused, spontaneous laugh. Mina didn’t know he could laugh that way. “Well said, Mina. Well said. Of course he can’t really do that because of the non-compete clause, but we may be able to work around it. I’m glad we had this conversation.”

  “You are? We might?” Maybe now he would get her car back.

  DeFiore’s office looked the way she remembered it, in desperate need of a redo. Mina had the feeling the visit wasn’t as impromptu as Adams led her to believe. Detectives don’t spend their days sitting around waiting for casual visitors. Something was going on, and as usual, no one told her.

  Her corduroy skirt barely met the Naugahyde of the chair when she said, “I want my car back and I never hit anyone, except that time when a little bird hit the windshield and…”

  DeFiore put a finger over his lips, but he obviously meant for her to stop talking.

  Adams sat next to her and laid his hand on her arm. That definitely meant, “Shut up!”

  “Here we are, Dan. What’s going on?” Adams asked.

  “I’m assuming you know about the Ginger slash Bosom Bodies mess Mina got herself into, and then she takes this woman she barely knows home with her and ends up drugged. Mina, you are lucky you didn’t die. When are you going to grow up?”

  Here it comes again, the grow up speech. Boring…

  “I didn’t know about the houseguest and the drugs, care to expand?” Adams frowned at her.

  It was DeFiore, not Mina, who told the story. “She drove this person she met at Bosom Bodies home with her and let her spend the night. This Angelina—not her real name—put magnesium in Mina’s hot cocoa and knocked her out. I’m not saying she meant to kill her, she probably just wanted plenty of time to go through her place, but because of Mina’s small stature, it could have ended up worse than”

  “Whoa, wait, wait.” She interrupted him. “What do you mean Angelina is not her real name? And what’s magnesium?”

  “Is that all you got out of my dissertation? Magnesium is an over the counter pill that can be used as a supplement. Swallow too much and it can put you into a coma, even kill you. Real name or not, good people do not put magnesium in other people’s drinks. Regarding your car, it had nothing to do with the hit and run. It was, however, used to lure Barbara Spencer to her death.”

  Over the counter, under the counter, more Americanisms that drove Mina crazy.

  “Would you like to explain, Dan?’ Adams took hold of her arm. His voice carried the coolness of an arctic breeze.

  “A traffic camera caught Mina’s Volkswagen following Barbara’s car on Saturday night.”

  “See? You are wrong.” Mina yanked her arm free. “My car wasn’t working Saturday night. You can ask that guy, the cook who speaks Italian. He gave me a ride home. There. Now can I please have my car and a heartfelt apology?”

  “I know all about the flat tire. How convenient. You obviously drove to work and found the flat tire late in the evening when you wanted to go home. You left the car parked at the restaurant, came back the next afternoon, Sunday, with the spare tire. Yes, I know, Paco drove you there. Triple A was called, they fixed the tire and that evening you hopped in your car and headed home. Did I forget any detail?”

  Mina was speechless. DeFiore knew everything that had happened. Who told him?

  She shook her finger at DeFiore. “You forgot the part about the car being parked in a locked area I didn’t have a key for!”

  Adams stirred restlessly. Something was worrying him.

  “Mina, honestly, a lock is going to stop a criminal? How hard could it be to deflate a tire, then put some air back into it, drive the car, do the deed, park the car back in the original spot, and let the air out again? Kid stuff. Barbara wouldn't get into a stranger’s car, but she would have trusted you, or in this case your car because she was familiar with it.”

  “See? You said it. It wasn’t me, and I don’t believe for a minute someone did that to my Bug. I would know.”

  “How? Prove it to me and I’ll release the car to you this instant.” DeFiore didn’t even pretend to be polite. He spoke to her in angry tones, looking straight into her eyes. “I’m waiting.”

  Mina bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe someone borrowed her car and convinced Barbara to get in.

  “That was Saturday night. You said Barbara’s accident was on Sunday.”

  “Give it up kid. You’ll get the car back as soon as they are done with it. Lease a vehicle. Adams can help you.”

  “Dan, we have important business happening at the moment. Will Mina’s name get in the media? Do I need to hire a damage control expert?” Adams asked.

  DeFiore shook his head, “We aren’t releasing details or names. Not yet. You have a few days.”

  “Good, I’ll keep that in mind. Mina, we should go.”

  Mina was depressed and angry. She had hoped to get her car instead she got humiliated and yelled at.

  “Hey, when is your boyfriend coming back?” DeFiore asked, all cheerful again.

  “Who cares?”

  Two pair of eyes stared at her.

  “Lovers’ quarrel? I see,” DeFiore said.

  “You don’t see. I have the right to know who the person who drugged me is.”

  “No. The only thing you need to know is you should avoid being friendly with people you are not familiar with and don’t open the door unless you ask who it is first. Here, take my card, I wrote down my private number. Memorize it. Anything or anyone you aren’t sure about, you check with me first. Understand?” He spoke with the same kind of voice the parish priest used on Sunday’s sermons. She had enough sermons to immunize her from the DeFiore’s of this world for the rest of her life.

  She slipped the business card in her skirt pocket and followed Adams out of DeFiore’s office. That went well.

  Adams drove past the guard at the condominium complex and dropped her off by the elevator. Mina didn’t want him to escort her up to her place. As he drove away before the doors slid closed, she glanced at the assigned parking spaces. The one belonging to the condo next door was as empty as hers. Maybe Margo was hallucinating about the neighbor.

  Wishful thinking, yes, that’s what it was, Margo’s wishful thinking.

  By the time she closed the front door behind her, the sun was setting over Catalina. She had munched on junk food at the office so she wasn’t hungry. She was angry and a little scared. Okay, a lot scared. She wished she did have a neighbor, someone nice, like a father figure. She heard that expression used in one of the afternoon TV shows and thought it sounded like an endearing combination.

  Maybe she could take a peek over the low wall to see if there was light on next door. This evening would be the perfect time. She was still dressed like a junior V.P. and could make a good first impression. Mina opened the patio door and walked out on the terrace without turning on the outside light, the better to snoop. Because she still wore her boots, she tiptoed to the separating wall and looked over. All was dark on the other side. She couldn’t see any bo
xes on the terrace or any light coming from inside. Bummer. Margo made it up.

  Mina walked back inside feeling even more dejected. She paused in the middle of the room trying to think of something fun to do that didn’t require transportation.

  Sex? Funny, Mina, very funny.

  In the silence of her living room she heard the elevator doors opening. The hair on the back of her neck stood. Only two condos were on this floor, hers and the vacant one. She walked to the front door, her hands pressed against her chest trying to contain the beating of her heart. A soft whistling came from the other side of her door. She searched for DeFiore’s card with the phone number. Changed her mind. On her toes, she wanted to look through the peephole. What if they could see her? The whistling moved away. The view through the peephole appeared distorted. Mina could only see the floor of the hall and something blue—jeans. She caught a glimpse of a boot. It was a man’s boot and something else, the whistling man walked toward the other condo’s door carrying something. The object seemed to hang knee high to the man. It looked familiar, what was it? Everything disappeared from view and then it struck her. The man carried a motorcycle helmet.

  Chapter 8

  Mina sat on the farthest corner of her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, too afraid to go back into the living room. The glass door to the terrace had no drapes because the management assumed none were needed so high up and nothing should come between the view and the resident’s eyes. That was the elaborate explanation given to Mina when she called the HOA office to announce someone had removed the window coverings.

  Obviously, the management didn’t consider that the terraces were an easy hop from one other.

  DeFiore’s phone number was still in her pocket, but her pride kept her from calling. Time went by, and darkness cloaked the world outside. The TV was in the living room, the car at the police yard, she didn’t feel like reading and doubted Brian would call after the last conversation. He said their passports were stolen. What, thieves change their looks to use other people’s identities? Brian was too handsome to be duplicated and his mother—well, that was a whole different story.