The taxi dropped her off by the back entrance. For one thing, the control that opened the gate was in her car. The car parked inside the gate. What a bore. With the manual code routinely changed, she had no clue how to let herself in, so she used the pedestrian gate.
That same light rain that escorted her and Margo to the bistro had washed away the layers of dust from nature and things, revealing a new gloss that let the pale moon reflect in it. Mina walked by the row of stacked mailboxes and couldn’t remember when either she or Margo even checked their own. She passed a parked car idling in one of the guest parking spots. A couple making out? Her townhouse was part of the very last cluster of units. The stillness of the place gave her the jitters. Where was everybody? She quickened her pace, and as she turned the last corned she ran squarely into a man walking in the opposite direction. He bumped against her so hard she got slammed to the wall.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” she asked.
He didn’t stop, didn’t apologize but kept on going, leaving a trail of tobacco smell behind. Che maleducato. Some people are just rude. She put the key in the keyhole and paused. Where was he coming from? The unit next to hers was dark, the couple out of town. Her hand shook in spite of her I’m-not-scared attitude. The only other choice was to get in her car and go back to the bistro.
Then she remembered the idling car.
She hurried in, locking the door behind and went about the house turning on all the lights, eventually making her way upstairs in her room. Being on the second floor had always offered her an illogical sense of protection. Her back against the headboard she let out a big sigh of relief. Safe.
Then she noticed it.
In the months she had lived with Margo she never once dusted a single piece of furniture in her room, it just wasn’t in her genes. Her roommate couldn’t care less. There was a clean spot on the nightstand, and she could clearly see in the one inch strip of dust-free wood that the cradle of the landline phone had been moved. Ever so slightly. She stood, and stiff as a marionette, she walked herself to Margo’s room. Not looking back. Not even once. She made it to Margo’s bed. Sat. Breathe, Mina, breathe.
She called De Fiore from Margo’s room. Fear stifled her voice.
He picked up at the first ring. From the noises in the background, he must still have been sitting at the same table, waiting for his coworker to be finished dancing. “De Fiore, I–”
“Where are you?” To the point.
“I’m home, but–”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes, would you let me talk? I think there was someone in the house and…”
“Stay there, don’t open the door to anyone, I’m on my way.” He hung up.
She stared at the phone. What just happened? Sixty minutes ago she was sitting in a crowded bar, across the table from the man she just dialed for help. Except, sixty minutes ago she was all snooty and snide to the same man offering his assistance. When would she ever learn?
Time passes slowly when you have no one to blame but yourself. Mina didn’t know what to do, afraid of moving back to her room yet feeling awkward waiting in Margo’s.
The doorbell didn’t ring. Instead, a light knocking on the front door convinced her to go ask who it was. She had barely opened the door when De Fiore grabbed her arm and literally yanked her out of the house. “Shhhs.” He warned her.
What? He forced her to walk with him a few feet away. “Better we wait outside,” he said.
“Wait? For what?”
“Friends. Why do you think someone was in the house?” He listened closely to her explanation, often nodding in approval.
A dark-colored SUV drove in through the gate and parked in the guest parking, the headlights trained on them. Mina stiffened. Perhaps De Fiore sensed it. He patted her arm. “It’s okay, they’re the good guys.” He distanced himself a little and waived to the trio of men carrying some large briefcases. They all headed back to the townhouse. There weren’t any introductions. All the detective wanted to know was how many phones were in the house, and was there only one line? Margo had a mobile phone she used often. Mina had a mobile phone in the car at Adams’s insistence. She never used it. The only phone she didn’t mention was Diego’s cell she kept with her 24/7. Since the door was unlocked, the trio walked right in, and De Fiore suggested the two of them go back to his car and talk. Where was Margo?
“You have a new car?” This wasn’t the puke-green sedan she remembered. This was a shiny black Ford. She couldn’t see the model.
“I do, and you should consider following my lead and get yourself a new car before you kill yourself in that Bug of yours. Kid, take a clue from your friend Margo and spend some money.”
She shrugged. “Where is Margo? And what are the good guys doing in the house?”
“Oh, here we go, firing questions right and left. I sort of missed that part.” He opened the passenger door and motioned Mina to get in. “Right this moment Margo should be having coffee and pie at the Denny’s down the street while Steve shows her pictures of his kids.”
Mina opened her mouth, and suddenly she had nothing to say.
“The good guys in the house are going through room by room to see if the visitor left something behind.”
“Oh, my God, like what? A bomb?”
He paused, shaking his head. “We kind of wish he did because depending on the nature of the gift he brought you we would be able to determine his intentions. Mina, Steve Madrid is a real cop. Hell, more like a super cop if there is such thing. He was the man in charge of the raid on the mountain house. Remember?”
She nodded. Where was he going with this?
“He came all the way down to Costa Mesa to meet you two gals. We are all convinced there is a connection, and by the way, the creep who put his foot on Margo’s neck? He works or used to for Surowiec.”
“How do you know who attacked Margo? She said he wore a ski mask.”
“And coughed a lot. I’m surprised he’s still kicking. He should have died of lung cancer years ago. But he must be getting old, that or they bet on Bob not filing a complaint, which he didn’t anyway. Our perp got sloppy, and we were able to lift a partial from the handle of the van. That’s how we established a connection, and obviously they weren’t there to hurt Bob or Margo, and now we are back to Mina and the flower deliveries.”
She grew restless. “Why should he have died of lung cancer?”
“Who? Oh, you mean ski mask? His nickname is Wheezer, heavy smoker and–you know him? Mina, you wear your emotions on your face. Spit it out.”
“The man who nearly knocked me to the ground–he reeked of tobacco.”
“Bingo.” De Fiore acted like she announced he just won the Publishers Clearing House sweepstakes. “And he could have easily dropped you to the ground forever. But he didn’t. They want something from you, and they need you alive. Do you know who is sending you flowers?”
She avoided his eyes and nodded yes.
“Whoever he or–,” long pause, “she is, the Surowiec team of creeps wants him. You better give this admirer of yours fair warning. These people are not to be taken lightly.” He waited. “Is it someone from around here?”
“I don’t know.” Frustration so great, she could hear it in her voice.
“You don’t know who he is or if he is from around here?”
“What happened to she?”
He chuckled in the dark then reached over and patted her arm as he did before. ”I have to hand it to you. You don’t miss much. Look, we have known each other for what? Three, four years? Have I ever lied to you? The raid on the mountain has nothing to do with me. It’s not my case, not my department. Hell, it’s not even in the same county. I’m concerned about your safety. Are we clear?”
“I know who sends me flowers but I honestly have no idea where he is. That’s the truth. Bob said the delivery order came from Italy, but it was dated days earlier…that’s all I know.”
“You receive flowers now and t
hen, but you two never talk?”
Silence.
“Oh, so you do talk. That’s it. I bet they bugged your phone so they’ll know when Diego calls you.”
Chills ran up her spine, he had known all along…why the charade? “If you know it’s Diego, why do you assume they don’t know where he is?” Long forgotten emotions rose in her throat… trust, De Fiore, Diego.
“Mina, don’t beat yourself up over this. The job description up that mountain fits Diego to perfection and Margo likes to talk, she told me about the secret lover sending flowers but not coming around. Just be thankful. If they bugged your phone my guys will find it, and that will take care of that.”
“He doesn’t call me on that phone.”
“Huh? Oh, you mean he calls you on the car phone? How would he know when you are driving? No? You’re shaking your head.”
“I have a special phone. Diego gave it to me when I left Italy. He calls me on that phone. I used to be able to call him, but no more. The last time he called he explained the phone would no longer allow outgoing calls.”
“Damn, is the phone in the house? Did you check it?”
“It’s not in the house. It’s always with me, and you are not going to touch it.” She moved to the far corner of the passenger seat as the front door of her place opened and the three men walked toward De Fiore’s car. He quickly got out. “Nothing?’
“Bugs, two. The phone in her bedroom and one in the kitchen. That’s it.”
“The idiot must think she cooks.”
“Hey, I heard that.”
“Sorry Mina, stereotype, you are Italian, therefore you cook. Surowiec needs to find better help. At least we know they are trying to collect information. How are we going to handle this? Wait, I bet they have someone watching the place. Hell, they already know we are here. Clean it up then take the devices and see if we get more prints.” He waited until they walked away. “Okay Mina, I think it’s going to be safe for you to go back in. They want you to show them the way, for now. They aren’t going to wait forever, but I still can’t figure out how they made the connection, if you–damn. You saw him. You saw Diego there, at the house on the mountain. What happened? What did you do?”
“Nothing. I did nothing. It’s not my fault.” Her tone so shrill she wanted to die or disappear. He was accusing her of giving Diego’s presence away to these… these murderers. Oh, mio Dio!
“Calm down, tell me exactly what happened. How come Margo didn’t notice a thing?”
Mina told him, her voice a bare whisper.
“Unfortunately, Surowiec is no dummy. You don’t become an international criminal by chance. He must have noticed the shifting of emotions on your face and your speedy exit made him even more suspicious. Don’t beat yourself up over this. Nothing can be done, and we know Diego made it out unscathed, or they wouldn’t be looking for revenge. You’ll be fine for now. I’ll run this by Steve, see if we can come up with a solution, and if Diego calls, let him know there may be a price on his head. Okay, you can go back home. It’s all taken care of.”
The trio headed toward their vehicle when another car entered the gate, and soon a cheerful Margo joined them. Steve stopped to talk to De Fiore.
Mina walked away without a word, feeling a void in her heart and her soul. She caused all this trouble for Diego. How was it possible? What if they caught him? What if they killed him? She wanted to run into her bedroom and cry in the dark. But Margo walked beside her, chatting about the good time and the dancing. Shut up!
She closed the front door when the phone in her purse vibrated.
CHAPTER 9
What if it was a vicious trick?
After a night spent debating in her head the true identity of the caller, Mina decided she had to take a chance. By morning light she knew she would follow the instructions spelled out by the voice of the man claiming to be Diego. Her Diego. How could she be sure? It was almost a one-sided conversation. She only managed to slip in a few responses while hoping and praying she would get to see the love of her life. Whatever it takes, she would do. Turning down a chance at being with Diego? Never.
“Drive to the main gate of the Marine Corps Air Station in El Toro,” he said.
That was the big Marine base she passed on the way to Trabuco Canyon with Kathy. “No problem, I know how to get there.” She put a lot of cheerfulness in her sentence. It didn’t garner much reaction. The way she felt, high on adrenaline and anticipation, it would have taken a lot more than lack of enthusiasm on his part to keep her from driving to their rendez-vous.
Rendez-vous? Hardly. But it sounded a lot better than what Diego called it, a meeting. No, he didn’t say a meeting. His exact words were. “I would appreciate it if you could drive yourself here. We need to talk. You will be asked to leave your car at the main gate and will not be allowed to carry anything electronic or even a purse.” Long pause.
She couldn’t breathe, waiting for some sweet talk that never came.
“I’m passing through and won’t be able to visit much, just so you know.”
Hope never dies.
She arrived at the main gate and showed her driver’s license to the guard who directed her to a side parking lot where she left all her belongings locked inside the Bug then climbed into a military Jeep driven by a young man in uniform. His helmet had big letters, MP. Military Police? No idle chit-chat, he stared straight ahead, as if unsure where that road might take him. Cars went by, even a school bus. Not many pedestrians. Mina remembered years ago, a girlfriend from the gym used to date a marine, and he would take her to the base for movies and other events. But this was Mina’s first time there.
They drove past a large fenced stretch of military land with very big, old-looking aircraft, nothing like the ones Mina was used to seeing at commercial airports. Except–a silver plane, tucked away on the side, looked like a toy compared to the rest. Sleek, shiny, small windows…she realized it was a jet. A private jet? Her heart leaped in her throat. She remembered a conversation with Gino, Diego’s Italian friend back in Vicenza. “She even made her jet available for him…a private jet.”
Was that even possible? The pearl lady, as Gino called her, would travel all the way to California to take Diego back to Italy? Away for herself, Mina? The old jealousy sneaked up on her. She had to see this woman. How old was she? More important, how powerful was she? She landed her private jet on the same runways reserved for combat planes? Stop it, Mina. You have no idea what’s going on. The driver never looked at her. Yet she felt judged. Somehow she knew that he knew who she was and why she was there. Her discomfort grew by leaps and bounds. She regretted wearing the sophisticated silk dress Kathy helped her pick at Ritzy Rags and the strappy patent sandals that made her feel like a runway apprentice. All the glorious moments she imagined they’d share when they finally met hurled at her like fistfuls of mud.
Hope never dies.
The jeep stopped in front of a two-story grey building. It looked like any other office building in bad need of a coat of paint.
The MP quickly came around and helped her out of the vehicle. “This way, Miss.”
They entered the wide doors to the building and went up a flight of stairs. The stairwell was dark and by the sound of her heels on the landing, Mina guessed they were walking on metal. She had no idea where they were headed, and she didn’t see a soul around. Somewhere a door slammed, then silence returned. Now they walked along a corridor with linoleum flooring which brought back memories of her mother’s old business, West Coast Software. Same ugly, practical flooring, same shade of brown. Depressing.
The MP slowed his pace to let her catch up, then he finally stopped by a dark double door with shiny handles and knocked lightly. An older man motioned them in. He wore a different uniform with a shirt so perfectly ironed it showed where it had been folded. The MP stepped to the side to let Mina pass then he stood in the doorframe looking at the wall. The tall, thin man with the starchy shirt gently propped her arm. “Miss Calv
i, this way please.” He knew her name. She didn’t have a chance to read his nametag as he quickly moved ahead of her. They walked further into the large room with two empty desks and several chairs. Pictures of men in uniforms hung on the walls. Her heartbeat the only sound spoiling the stillness of the room. A sense of panic grew in her chest, she slowed down, and that’s when she saw him.
Against the wall, ahead of her escort, behind a massive desk sat Diego. Her Diego. She couldn’t breathe, the kaleidoscope of her emotions flooded her brain, pummeled her heart. She waited, trembling in anticipation of his acknowledging her presence, stand up, come and greet her. It didn’t happen. The man with the starchy shirt physically directed a dazed Mina to a chair across from Diego’s. The desk instantly became the imaginary frontline of their encounter.
What should I do? This wasn’t the time or the place for her spontaneity to shine. Even in her state of lightheaded confusion she knew that. She put a hand on her chest, by her throat and could feel the hammering of her heart as she attempted a smile.
“Ciao,” she said and waited.
Hope never dies.
“Hello–Mina.” He looked like someone who had returned from combat, or at least the way fighting soldiers appeared in the movies. His uniform was made of a pattern called camouflage–that part she knew. His nametag said Perez, instead of Moran. Her glance traveled from his tag to his eyes, neither told the truth.
“Thank you for meeting me here…” Was he still using the same soap? She yearned to nuzzle his neck, to smell his skin, to feel the warmth of his body. “…I hate to do this, but it wouldn’t be fair to you if I didn’t.” How come he kept his hands hidden under the desk? Why couldn’t they touch? “Time has come for us to go on our separate ways.” His head must have healed nicely after the surgery. His hair certainly grew back quickly and hid the scar well. “I won’t be contacting you again. Our-so-called relationship never stood a chance, we both knew that, so it’s good that we are ending it in an amicable way.”
Ashes of Autumn (Mina's Adventures Book 4) Page 6