Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures) (27 page)

But not today.

Margo parked in the next space, where Diego’s bike used to be.

Mina started to moan
and couldn’t stop
.

“
Don’t do
that
,
Mina
. Y
ou are freaking me out.”
She got out of the car and walked around to the passenger
side where she tried to take
thing
s
from Mina and help her out of the car. It didn’t go well.
Mina
c
ould
n’t
bring herself to let
go of the helmet and Diego’s leather jacket.

Once inside the condo
,
it didn’t get any better.

Mina was
a zombie, and Margo grew
more worried by the minute.
“Mina
,
do you have
DeFiore
’s
private phone number?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.” Mina sat on the couch staring straight ahead.

“Well, you better remember because I
sure as hell
don’t know how to get hold of him.”

The phone rang in the bedroom. Margo ran to answer, “Hello
?”

“It’s
DeFiore
. Is Mina with you?”

“
Well, speaking of the devil. Yes, Mina is here, at least her body is here, as for her min
d—
” Margo had lusted after
DeFiore
a long time, but on
that day
she
didn’t
care one bit if she alienated him. “
She’s in bad shape right now. What do you people mean
, leaving her in the dark like—?”

Something in DeFiore’s voice commanded obedience.
“Give her the phone. Do it now.”

Without another word, s
he handed the phone to Mina
and sat down on
the other end of the sofa.

Mina’s eyes went back into focus as she listened to
DeFiore
.
             
“Yes, I did
…
I don’t care what you told me. You are not my father.” Mina spoke in a controlled, monotonous tone. “The only thing I want from you is the truth. Plain and simple truth. No cop talk, no poor Mina can’t handle it talk. The truth.” She stopped talking and seemed to listen, her eyes closed.

Margo didn’t know what to do. Her friend was hurting, and she could only sit by and watch.

At some point
in
the conversation,
Mina’s
fingers relaxed, let go. The helmet rolled off her lap and landed on the rug. She
wiped her cheeks with
the back of
her
hand.

She didn’t say another word, but a
fter a while she hung up the phone. Margo had no clue as to what was said or if
DeFiore
was even done talking. She waited.

Finally,
Mina spoke in a low, broken voice.
“He didn’t make it
.
He died during the night. The family picked up the body early this morning. He died alone. I was only steps away.”

She picked up the helmet, the leather jacket and the phone and walked
slowly
to the bedroom.
She looked very small.

“I’m going to bed. Thanks for all your help, Margo. Pull the door behind you when you leave.”

“What do you mean you are going to bed? It’s barely afternoon.”

“We all mourn differently. This is my way.”

In her bedroom she
spread
the jacket on the bed and lay next to it. A faint scent of mountain pine came from the lining. That was all she had left of Diego. That and the memories.
Mina made
sure the phone was unplugged
. S
he could hear Margo moving around the condo,
possibly
straightening the mess that remained from the break in. Mina didn’t care. She wanted to close her eyes and go to slee
p. She slept, woke up, and cried
off and on.

At some point she awoke in the dark. Night had finally come. The place was silent.
Mina walked out of her bedroom.
Margo had gone
but
left a note on the kitchen counter.

Call me if you need me, otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow. So sorry for your loss.

Sorry for you
r loss? Diego was never hers to
start with. She knew that. He was the fun neighbor, her one night lover, the man she trusted with her life and would miss as long as she lived.

Mina
plugged in the
phone,
walked to her patio door, wishing for some rain. There was something about night rain that seemed to wash away the sorrows of the day. No rain. Only spiteful stars.

She unlocked the door and walked out, barefooted. There was that low wall, one hop from Diego’s terrace. Voices drifted up from somewhere, probably holiday parties down at the yacht club.

She straddled the wall and
put her feet down
on Diego’s terrace. It felt strange, like she was trespassing. The patio furniture was gone.
She walked up to the patio door;
the drapes were drawn
. H
er face against the cold glass
,
she tried to peek inside. All was dark and quiet. She
bum
ped her fist
on the glass
, softly at first then louder and louder
until,
exhausted
,
she crouched against the door and wept.

Did he suffer? Medically induced coma
,
DeFiore
had said. Mina didn’t understand the meaning of it. None of
it
mattered now. She walked back to the low wall
. B
efore stepping over it
,
she turned to look at Diego’s
patio door for the last time. T
hen she went back to her condo.

Her phone was ringing. “Hello.”

“Mina, where the hell were you? I’ve been calling and calling. Is your TV on?”

“No, Margo. I wasn’t watching TV.”

“Well, you should. Hurry
.
T
urn on channel five
. Y
ou need to see this. All the creep
s they arrested, so many crooks right
under our noses, hard to believe. Are you watching?”

“Wait, okay,
I
got it now. Oh, that’s Sam—my God—what did I miss? Are they talking about Diego?”

“Nah, and they are
n’
t interviewing
DeFiore
, either.
T
his was an investigation t
hat crossed several state lines
and started long before your moonlighting at Bosom Bodies. Look at all those scary faces. What did you miss? They a
ren’t naming names, just mumble-
jumble about utilizing the resources of local, state and federal law enforcement agencies, blah, blah. You think Diego worked for one of the agencies? What do you think? F.B.I? C.I.A?”

“Margo, I don’t want to talk about it
. I
t hurts too much and doesn’t matter to me. He saved my life. That’s all.”

“Ah, listen…Angelina and Sam are related, same father, different mothers. Looks like Sam was the rising star of this band of criminals.”

“
Dio
m
io
, and I thought she was
DeFiore
’s love interest.”

“What? Nah, she is
n’t
his type. Oops, it’s over. Mina, maybe they’ll have a rerun. How
are
you doing? Want me to come over and keep you company? Did you see I straightened
up
your place a little? What are you doing with the Christmas tree?”

“Margo. Slow down. Yes, I noticed. Thank you so much. If I find the box with the Christmas ornaments
, maybe
I’ll decorate the tree.
W
here did you leave the car key? And
, listen
, I d
on’t
mean to be rude. You are a good friend…”

“
D
on’t apologize. I can’t take your hurt away. Only time can do that. I left the envelope with the key on the kitchen counter. You sure you don’t want me to come over?”

“Yes,
I’m sure.
I’ll get myself some warm milk and wait for the late evening news
. M
aybe they’ll run that s
egment
again. Good night.” It sounded so simple, get some warm milk
. W
ait for the news. Why must life be so hard? What happened to happ
ily
ever after? After what? She had to keep moving, stop thinking about what if.

Mina found the envelope on the counter
.
Triple A was as efficient as ever. She ripped open the envelope
,
and the key fell out
attached to
a white
,
round tag with her license plate number on
it
.

But she didn’t recognize the key. This was a brand new key, all gold and shiny.

The Bug downstairs was hers, no doubt about that. Well, an easy question to solve. Mina went into her bedroom, put on her sweats and her shoes, grabbed her house key and took the elevator to the garage. The place felt spooky. Her surge of en
ergy
quickly wan
ed
.

Might as well get it over with.
What do you kno
w? The car had a new lock. A
lock? Triple A would install a new lock? Maybe the original had been damaged? Well
,
it didn’t work to start with. Okay, bless Triple A.

She unlocked the door and sat in the car. Spotless. The ignition turned on and the Volkswagen purred. Finally
,
some good news. Mina turned off the engine and sat back.

In the twilight of the garage her sadness returned.
Eyes closed
,
she recalled when Diego drove in the back
way
with the mysterious black car. She sighed and inhaled a faint scent of mountain pine. It hit her hard, straight to the heart
. S
he look
ed
over her shoulder
at the back seat, wishing to hear his voice congratulating her on finally locking her car. Then she got out of the Bug, locked it and went back upstairs.

She threw the car key on the coffee table.
I will not cry.
The other side of the round key tag had her name on it. Mina Calvi.
Handwritten
in
a very slanted, large cursive.
Her breath caught in her throat. She was h
allucinating. Her knees buckled;
she kneeled by the table and picked up the key. It had to be his handwriting. It had to. But how? The car was left on the side of the freeway, and then she woke up at the hospital along with Diego. Could it be a cruel coincidence?

What if it wasn’t?

She called the guardhouse.
“Hi, this is Mina Calvi, can I please speak to Herb?”

“Huh, sorry
,
Miss, his shift was over at six
. He won’t be back until tomorrow morning. Can I help you?”

“No, no. You can’t. This is very important. I must speak to Herb. Can I have his home phone?”

“Sorry
ma’am
,
i
t’s against regulations. If it really is that important
,
I
can
try to reach him
and
ask
Herb
to
call you. I’m not promising anything, you understan
d.
”

“Yes, yes, I understand. You have my number of course. Okay, I’m hanging up. Call him. Please.”

She hung up, the car key with the
nametag
snug and
safe in her hand. She hyperventil
at
ed
. Maybe her sense of reality was slipping away.
The idle wait made her crazy
. S
he
began
to move boxes around, looking for the one with the Christmas ornament
s
. When the phone rang, she pounced.

“Yes?”