Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures) (8 page)

“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
. W
ell 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 stirr
ed restlessly.
S
omething 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
condo
minium complex
and dropped her off by the elevator. Mina didn’t want him to escort her up to her place.
As he drove away b
efore the doors slid closed, she glanced at the assigned parking spaces. The one
belonging to the condo next door was
as empty as her
s
. 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 boxes 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
. W
hat 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
. T
he man carried a motorcycle helmet.

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, t
he 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.

Maybe she could call Ginger. With all the things happening in Ginger’s life they’d have a lot to talk about. She could tell her how sorry she was about what happened to Barbara. When she went to look for Ginger’s phone number in her dresser drawer, she noticed the scent of Boucheron floating in the room. Two days ago, she thought it was a side effect of the drug, but Margo had also mentioned the perfume.

Where was it coming from?
When Mina moved out of the house, her mother
’s
beautiful bottle with the blue cobalt cap went into in a box as a memory, a tiny part of their brief time together. Perhaps it had spilled out or something.

She found Ginger’s number. Was it too late to call? Too bad. She had to do something to take her mind off the stranger next door.

The phone rang twice
followed by
a series of clicks. “Good evening, Miller
’s
residence. May I help you?” The saucy female voice reminded Mina of a lingerie commercial, but it didn’t sound like Ginger. “Huh, can I speak to Ginger, please?”

“May I ask who is calling?”

“Mina, Mina Calvi, her friend Mina.” She sounded impatient to herself.

“Thank you Mina Calvi. Would you like to leave a message?”

“No, I would like to speak to Ginger. Where is she?”

“Miss Miller is not available at the moment. If you would like to leave a message, I will make sure she gets it.”

“Forget it, I’ll visit her at the gym.” Click.