Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures) (28 page)

“Miss Calvi? This here is Her
b. I—
”

“Herb, thank you soooo much for calling back. I owe you big. It’s about my car.”

“Something wrong with your cute little
B
ug?”

“No, no, is not that. It’s the key. Well, here is the deal. Are you sure the car was dropped off
by Triple A?”

“Uhh, yes…”

“The Triple A tow truck delivered my Volkswagen?

“
Well, no.
It wasn’t like that. The Triple A man—mechanic
—drove the car up to the gate. W
hen I called your condo, there wasn’t any answer
. H
e asked if he could drive the car to the assigned parking spot and leave the keys with us at the gate. It
sounded like a good idea to me.
I figured you’
d
be happy to get your car back, no?”

“I was.
I am. Thrilled. So, the person—man who drove my car, did you talk to him? What did he look like?”

“Well, medium
-
buil
d
…maybe on the short side. Dark hair, a thin mustache and very thick glasses. Miss Calvi, he was wearing the Triple A uniform.”

“You mean like the shirt with the n
ame tag? And how did he leave a
fter he delivered the car? What, he walked back to work?” The shrill pitch of her voice could wake a hibernating bear.
“I’m sorry Herb, I d
o
n’t mean to badger yo
u.
”

“
Aw, i
t’s all right, it must be lonely up on the
fourth
floor
. T
hat place next to you has been empty for so long. You are about to have a new neighbor, I understand
. A
lady
. H
er interior decorator and a whole crew w
ere
there working on the place yesterday
. T
here was a lot of
foot
traffic
. S
ort of lucky you weren’t around. But yes, the Triple A m
an had the company shirt,
said he was through for the day
and
a friend was giving him a ride. I saw the black car waiting outside the gate.”

Mina sat on the floor, her back against the couch
. A
black car
. “You have been very kind
,
Herb. Y
es
,
I’m a little upset, nothing to do with you. What do you like to drink? It’s Christmas time, I would like to send you a case of your favorite brand.”

“I’m a Bourbon man, Miss Calvi. It’s not necessary, but much appreciate
d, T
hanks. Oh, by the way the Triple A man did have a
nametag
.
I think it was Jim? Jon?”

Mina cleared her throat,
barely able to speak.
“Joe?”

“By golly, that’s it. Joe. Do you know him?”

“I do, Herb. I do. Thanks. Goodnight.” She put the phone on the table, her sweaty hands sh
aking
, her head about to explode. Diego was alive. He had to be. And what did Herb mean, the condo next to her had been vacant for so long? Her first instinct was to run next door and hit the door
. S
he di
d
n’t.

This was too big to keep to herself
. S
he needed to tell someone
. S
he wanted to yell it to the world. Then reality set in. A
nametag
.
Herb probably needed reading glasses, glasses he didn’t wear on duty. And he wanted to please her. She suggested the
nametag
, shouted the name. Her hope faded
as
she sat on the couch revisiting in her mind’s eye the series of coincidences and dismissing them one by one
:
 
the Triple A shirt in Diego’s closet, the black car, the handwriting. What was it they called it in those TV shows? Circumstantial evidence.

Too wired up to sleep, Mina decided to keep searching for the Christmas decorations instead. A
nything would do rather then lying
in the dark drowning in her sorrow. She went to the guest closet
and
didn’t have to look hard
. T
here on the floor was a box clearly labeled
Xmas decorations
. In Brian’s handwriting.

Too bad she didn’t have Italian Christmas
c
arols. Italian? She didn’t have any Christmas
c
arols, period. Her mother used to sing a song,
“
Tu scendi dalle
stel
l
e”
…
You come down from the stars…

That was such a nice song.

Mina started to work on the tree
and
lost track of time. Most of the round balls were si
lver. Other
ornaments
came
in various shapes and color
s,
and at the bottom of the box, in a smaller container, strings of Christmas lights. By the time she was done and plugged in the lights, night
had
beg
u
n to fade. The tree looked beautiful
;
the lights twinkl
ed
. Perfect. Only one thing missing, the topper.

Mina sighed
,
remembering the antique angel she purchased that day with Margo. Poor angel, Diego took it. He was going to fix it.
Clear your mind, Mina.
She turned off the lights
in the condo except for those
twinkling on the tree and then she went to bed.

The ringing of the phone woke her.

“Hello…”

“Mina? Are you still sleeping?”

“Not anymore
, Adams
.”

“Well
,
young lady, I thought you’d have been up for hours, reading the paper, getting ready. I’m picking you up in two hours.”

“I don’t get the paper, and I can be ready in thirty minutes.”

“Too bad about the paper, the whole front page is dedicated to the arrest and indictment of Samantha Perez
. S
he
’
s being formally charged with the murder of Barbara Spencer. That should cheer you up.”

“You think she did it? Kill
ed
Barbara?”

“Mina, our justice system doesn’t take these things lightly. Why do you doubt it?”

“It has nothing to do with doubt and everything to do with
how
hard
it is
for me to believe
people are capable of such cold-
hearted violence. What about poor Ginger and—Diego? When will they be vindicated?”

“One step at the time
. Ginger was killed back East. T
hey’ll ferret out her killer or killers
. I
t’s all part of the same organization. Someone will talk in exchange for a de
al. It takes time, but it seldom
fails. As for Diego, I’m not sure what happened. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Why? That’s cruel. Maybe he is not dead.”

“Now, Mina, really. You’
re talking nonsense. Are you on medication?”

“No. I didn’t sleep well. Have the guard call from the gate and I’ll meet you downstairs. Two hours. Bye.”

She wasn’t going to argue with him about Diego or anything else. It was as if suddenly everyone was speaking a different language than
she
. Oh, God. Brian would be back today. Was she ready to face him? This was not the way she had imagined their reunion. How c
ould
everything be so different in only a few weeks? No need to tell him about Diego. Diego, Diego, Diego. She had to stop obsessing.

Maybe a shower would help.

She let the warm water flow, washing her tears, her regrets.

So, an interior decorator had been busy
next doo
r

r
emoving all traces of Diego
, p
acking his clothes, his fluffy towels and that wonderful soap
? S
he turned off the shower and dried herself.

S
he went into the kitchen to make coffee
and
remembered
the tree lights had been
left on all night, or whatever was left of the night when she went to sleep.

It put a smile on her fac
e. Only a few days to Christmas and
she didn’t have presents for anyone yet. The Mall w
ould
be packed. S
he liked that
. I
t w
ould
help to distract her from her sadness. She didn’t have any real food in the house and she didn’t care either. The coffee would do until they got to L.A International.

What should she wear? Everything she did was at
a
snail
’s
pace, her only goal, to make the day be over fast. Finally
,
she was ready, wearing the same grown up suit she wore for the first meeting with the investors. She sat on the couch, waiting for the call from the gate and staring at the Christmas tree. Maybe leaving the lights on around the clock wasn’t such a good idea, better to unplug it while she went to the airport. The last thing she needed was to cause a fire.

She walked
over
to
pull the plug from the socket
and
noticed
something outside on the patio
by the sliding door. Looked like a paper bag
.
Something the wind blew in?

She opened the door just enough to
reach
down and grab the bag. It looked sort of familiar
. T
here was a
s
mall, square box inside. Her heart hammered against her chest, she tiptoed to the low wall
and
peeked over, hoping, wishing. Everything
appeared
as deserted and dead as the night before. Now Mina felt uncomfortable
. W
as someone watching her? She walked back into her condo and locked the patio door behind her. What was in the box? Should she open it or give it to
DeFiore
?
DeFiore
? Really? Hello
,
paranoia. She tore the box open, and her cross-eyed, antique angel, landed on her lap. Oh,
m
y God…

S
he fought the urge to run outside and look for Diego again.
N
o one would be there.

Instead, she got up and
gingerly
placed the angel on top of her Christmas tree.
Mina stood back
. T
he angel with the gold colored hair
looked perfect, no trace of
having been glued
back together.

Buon Natale
Diego,
wherever
you are. She
wiped her face with the back of her fist.

The phone rang. Time to go meet Brian.

The End

About the Author

Italian born like the heroine, Maria Grazia Swan is happiest
when she gets to write about anything Italian. She is the award winning published author of
Love Thy Sister
and numerous short stories and magazine articles.