Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures) (7 page)

The phone rang. Mina picked it up.

“Mina? It’s Adams." Oh, great. She needed her lawyer like she needed a hole in her head. "I hear you aren’t well.
DeFiore
called. I need you to listen carefully; it’s important. You must give your car key to the policeman waiting in your living room.”

“What? Why does he need my car? Something wrong with his?”

“No, Mina, that’s not the reason. Give him the car key, and then I’ll explain to you. Okay?”

“Coffee is ready.” Margo walked into the bedroom. Sergeant Jones was with her but stopped at the threshold. “Did you spill perfume in the bathroom? Smells like a cosmetic counter in there.”

“Is Margo with you? Good, I was hoping she got there. Mina, the key?”

Was this all part of her dream? If so, she needed to snap out of it. But the coffee smelled real, and Margo looked, well, like Margo. The ignition key of her Bug was on the night table. As she picked it up, she noticed the answering machine
light
blinking.

“Adams, I’m giving him the key. I don’t want to, but I’m doing it.” She felt herself tear up. Was she crying because of her car? Time stood still
-
Margo at the foot of her bed, steaming coffee in hand, Sergeant Jones waiting by her bedroom door, Adams on the phone telling her to surrender the key, and that red light blinking, blinking. “Here.” She lifted her hand, open palm. Jones came to her, took the key, nodded and left.

“What’s wrong with your car?” Margo asked.

“Nothing’s wrong with my car,
” Mina cried into the phone.

“Could have fooled me.” Margo wasn’t done. “There was a small crowd surrounding the Bug and a tow truck down in the garage. Did you have an accident?”

“What?”

“Mina, listen to me." Adams'
s
voice commanded her attention again. "
DeFiore
thinks you were drugged, and it’s hard for you to understand everything that’s going on. You need to trust me.
The police are impounding your car. Are you listening?”

“Impounding my car? I only have a few parking tickets. And why would I have been drugged? Nothing is missing from my
place that
I know of, anyway. Maybe I ate something bad. When do I get my car back?” She was out of breath, and her head pounded like window shutters in a hurricane.

“Mina, it’s possible your car was involved in a hit and run.”

At some level of consciousness Mina knew the car, the drugs and the police were all somehow connected to Barbara’s death, but something deep inside wouldn't let her accept that reality yet. She lay still under the blanket, breathing softly, afraid the rhythm of her breath would start a chain reaction in her head. All was quiet in the place.

At the end of the hall she could hear the TV. Margo must be watching some late show. The only light filtering through her covers came from her blinking answering machine. Curse that flickering from hell. Her nausea gone, her brain
wide-awake
, she tried to put the pieces together. Could Angelina have drugged her? But why?

Maybe Ginger would shed some light on this mess. Poor Ginger. What a sad welcome home. She would call Ginger in the morning. Maybe they could have coffee or something. Darn, she didn’t have any transportation. They took her car. It was a conspiracy, to isolate her. Margo was
t
here to keep an eye on her so she couldn’t
seek
help. Who else was there to ask? She was
all alone
.

The phone rang. It was so unexpected that Mina froze. She slid her hand from under the covers, grabbed the phone and whispered, “Hello.”

“Mina? Is that you? Why are you whispering? Are you
okay?”
Brian.

“I’m not feeling well.”

“Oh, so sorry. Is that why you didn’t answer last night? Poor baby, and here I was thinking you were out partying
.
I apologize. Delete that rude message I left, will you? Is it the flu? Did you see a doctor?”

“Who are you talking to?” Margo asked from the bedroom door.

“Is someone there with you?” Brian said.

“It’s Brian,” she said to Margo. “Margo is here to help me out,” she said to Brian.

“Margo is spending the night? You must be very sick. And I’m stuck here, doing nothing constructive. Our passports were taken.”

“What do you mean taken?”

“Stolen. Both
Mom’s and mine.
We have no passports. We must wait until we get duplicates from the American Embassy. You have no idea how badly I want to get back to California. It’s snowing here.”

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.

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?
A
sk
ing
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
. M
ore 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. T
hat 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
. The
ir plan is to take the parts they want, facilitate a major reconstruct, an
d 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.