Love Thy Sister (Mina's Adventures Book 1)

by Maria Grazia Swan

  Mina felt uncomfortable. She didn’t like to talk about money, and she didn’t like to see her sister this way. Maybe she was the burden, and Paola was telling her in a creative way. She searched for something appropriate to say but her mind was on pause. “Paola, you have plenty of disks in the warehouse. Can’t you replace Takawa’s stock with West Coast Software?”

  “You don’t understand.” A sob wracked through Paola. “Once word gets out we misplaced patented info we’ll be done, and Takawa will sue us.” Even though Mina’s leotard had dried, chills ran through her. Robbers, murder what next? “Did you call the cops?”

  Paola sat up, wiped her face. “No, no cops. It’s not that simple. People in this line of business can’t afford that kind of publicity. Besides, it didn’t happen overnight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Paco suspected something. Several times he had a feeling that someone was playing games with our disks. He told me, but we were always so busy, I didn’t pay much attention. Then Takawa dropped the bomb. When he came to pick up inventory, some of his boxes were empty. And it wasn’t the first time. He insisted he’d spoken to Michael about it, but of course, Michael denied it.

  “When he went to Chicago, I had Paco check. The only disks left in any of the boxes were defective. And the originals are missing from our locked files.” Paola closed her eyes.

  Mina searched for something that would erase the hopelessness from her sister’s face. “Tell Takawa the duplicating machines aren’t working. Make him wait a few weeks, that will give you time to locate the original copyrighted content. We can scrounge up the cash to buy new disks. Come on, Paola, it’s just money. We can make this work.” We?

  “It’s never just money, never. We’ve already exhausted our credit line. Add the Fernandez’s mess to it; the whole situation is hopeless.”

  “Don’t say that. How about the money from your divorce settlement? Let your old ex-moneybags pay to kick-start the business.”

  “What do you think Michael and I used to get the company going?”

  Mina sank back on her heels. “Your money? All of it?”

  “We formed a partnership; my money and Michael’s knowledge. An invincible combination, he used to say.”

  “Where is the bastard?”

  “Michael? Let’s see, it’s after six o’clock.” Her sister’s light tone bordered on hysteria. “He could be at Silky Sullivan—happy hour, you know. Or he may be in one of the second floor rooms at La Quinta. He likes high places for his fucks.” She laughed.

  Mina never heard her sister use that language about anybody. “Why haven’t you divorced him?”

  “Money, darling. Just money, like you said. He’s the one with the knowledge and the reputation. He brings the clients through West Coast Software’s front door. Of course, I take it from there, but the outsiders don’t know that. They all think Michael runs the show.” Another laugh.

  “Is he having an affair with Sarah Fernandez?”

  “Sarah, Ruth, Martha, Rachel...who cares? They’re only names, young bodies earning money on their backs. Or on his back—whatever it takes to keep him signing the checks.”

  “Paola, cosa ti succede, what’s happened to you? You sound so hard. Is it because of the baby?”

  Paola grabbed Mina’s shoulders, shook her. “What baby?”

  “Margo told me that Rachel was pregnant.” She pushed her sister back into her chair.

  “Oh, that.” Paola turned, a cold smile on her lips. “Oh, you think that Michael...? No, Michael can’t.”

  “Michael—Are you sure?”

  “Yes, we were tested. Did you think I was the one? Well, you thought wrong. Don’t worry about Michael making babies.” The way Paola said `babies’ was chilling. Beneath the calm, Mina sensed a quiet, primeval rage.

  “What can I do, Paola?” Seeing her sister this way tore at her.

  “Grazie cara, but there’s nothing you—or I, for that matter—can do right now.” Paola sounded almost normal. Or maybe it was good acting. “Are you hungry? All of a sudden I’m famished. We could order a pizza.” She cupped Mina’s face in her hand. Her violet eyes, gazing into Mina’s, were once again the eyes of her dear sister.

  “I need to take a shower first.” One of Mina’s legs had gone to sleep, and she stood slowly. “But yeah, I’m starving.”

  “Okay. Take your time and don’t worry—I know exactly what you want on it.”

  Mina limped to the doorway on tingling limbs. Paola’s voice stopped her.

  “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

  Mina smiled. “That’s what sisters are for.”

  In her room, she stripped and got in the shower. As she lathered the soap, she thought about what Paola had said: she knew what Mina wanted on her pizza. She had no idea what Paola liked on hers. In fact, her sister knew a lot about her—but what did she know about Paola?

  The photographs in her sister’s drawer leafed through her memory. Her with mom, with dad, by herself, even with their pet dog. But what about Paola? Why couldn’t she remember her sister during their childhood?

  She stopped, soap bubbles slipping over her hands. There’d been letters from the States to their mother, postcards to Mina, and Paola and Michael’s honeymoon trip. But what about before that?

  Their parents had always been reluctant to talk about Paola, yet they’d let Mina bring her colorful postcards to school for show-and-tell. Pictures of America, all addressed to Miss Mina Calvi.

  “Miss”—Mina smiled. It had made her feel so grown up. Her teacher collected foreign stamps, and Mina had given her every one, carefully prying each from the precious postcard. All those years, all those letters, she dreamed of living with her sister in America.

  The warm jets of water soothed her face. Paola and Michael, so happy and now so miserable. It would never be that way for her and Patrick.

  Patrick! In all the commotion, she’d forgotten to tell Paola about his letter. Mina turned off the water and jumped out of the shower, grabbing the same unwashed towel she’d used the day before.

  Thanksgiving was only a couple of weeks away. She laughed. Brian who? Now she’d see Patrick, and realize that Brian was just a fluke.

  She dressed in a hurry; she liked her pizza hot.

  CHAPTER 10

  “So you’re going to New York to meet your Frenchie.” Margo swiveled back and forth in the Naugahyde chair. The color of the day was purple—purple suit, purple scarf, purple nails.

  Mina nodded. “Thanksgiving weekend. Who told you?”

  “And he’s paying for your trip?” Margo opened her desk drawer and pulled out a lipstick. Corkscrewing the tube, she applied thick purple bows to the top of her lips.

  “He sent me the plane ticket,” Mina said.

  “Where will you stay?” She puckered and stretched her lips, reapplied purple lipstick.

  “I don’t know. It’s a surprise. Patrick’s flying in from London. We’ll get to Kennedy airport about the same time, and he’ll take it from there.”

  “How romantic,” Margo said. “Almost like a honeymoon.”

  “What honeymoon?” Paola asked.

  Mina hadn’t heard her coming. Her sister looked much better than last night with color in her face and her hair perfectly coifed. Mina hoped the improvement went deeper than that.

  “American Alarm sent the information by messenger.” Margo slipped the lipstick back in the drawer and handed Paola a manila envelope.

  “Why didn’t you buzz me like I asked you?” Paola demanded.

  “I was about to—it just arrived.” She winked at Mina.

  Paola tore open the envelope, pulled out the contents and stared at the papers without unfolding them. Mina watched without really comprehending the meaning of it all. And then Paola sighed and said, “Mina, how about something to eat? My treat.”

  They were barely out the door when Margo came rushing after them. “Paula, your lawyer is on the phone!”

&n
bsp; Paola hesitated, glanced at her sister, who shrugged.

  “Sorry, I’d better take the call, I’ll only be a minute. I’ll get it in Michael’s office.” She went in and closed the door.

  Mina flopped down on the couch, and picked up a magazine. While leafing through it, she noticed that Margo hadn’t hung up the telephone yet.

  “Hey, Margo, what are you doing?”

  The receptionist motioned her to hush. Mina got up and walked toward the desk. “Margo...”

  Margo carefully replaced the receiver. “Party pooper,” she said.

  “So that’s how you knew about my trip to New York,” Mina said. “You listened in when I called. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Somebody’s got to mind the store.” She dug out her box of chocolates and offered one to Mina.

  “No thanks. Until they find out who killed Rachel, I’m not touching those things. You shouldn’t either.”

  “Nonsense.” Margo helped herself to a chocolate, put the box back on the desk, then pulled out a thick book and began to read.

  Mina tried to get a look at the spine, but Margo set it down on the desk. “What are you reading?” she asked.

  “I’m studying Spanish.”

  “Spanish? No kidding. Let’s see, Antonio Banderas is already taken, Julio Iglesias is single.” She paused to study Margo’s expression, “Too old?”

  “Puh-leese. I want to learn basic Spanish so I can communicate with the workers who don’t understand English.”

  “Mamma mia, this sounds serious. Career advancement?”

  Before Margo could answer, Paola opened the office door. “All done,” she said. “Andiamo, let’s go.” Then to Margo, “We won’t be long.”

  * * * * *

  In the nearly empty restaurant, the sisters settled at a table with a view of the parking lot and ordered their food.

  “I’m sorry about last night,” Paola said. “I didn’t mean to let things get so out of hand. Anyway, I decided to take your advice and buy more disks and talk frankly to Takawa. We’re back in business.” She smiled.

  “That was quick. I thought you didn’t have any money left.”

  “True. However, I have equity. That’s what Adams’ call was about. He’s setting up a deal that will let me borrow against the value of the house.”

  “How much do you think it’s worth?”

  “We’ll soon find out. An appraiser is supposed to come by tomorrow. Can you arrange to be there? I’d rather not to be away from West Coast Software right now.”

  “What does Michael think about this?”

  After taking a sip of water, Paola replaced the glass precisely over the water ring. “I didn’t discuss it with him. For one thing, it’s my house.”

  “Si, but this is California, everything is fifty-fifty.”

  “Not this house. I owned it before our marriage, and we have a pre-nuptial contract. It’s all mine after the divorce is settled, and I intend to file as soon as this mess with Takawa is taken care of.”

  “Does Michael know? About the divorce, I mean.” Here they were, discussing divorce over lunch. Unreal. Divorce destroys families, breaks hearts, changes lives forever.

  “What are you thinking?” Paola cocked her head, her eyes burned with an unsettling spark.

  “Seems like there are lots of things you two haven’t discussed.”

  Paola shrugged and unfolded the papers from the alarm company. The waitress brought their food.

  As Mina munched on her turkey sandwich, Paola examined the report, ignoring her green salad with dressing on the side. Her expression became more and more tense.

  “Bad news?”

  No answer. She laid the papers next to the salad plate and began to rifle through her handbag. She pulled out her appointment book, fingered through the pages. Finally, she put everything down on the table and stared into the empty parking lot. Mina ate on, trying to chew quietly while her sister thought.

  “I guess this leaves Michael out.” Paola said, attempting a smile. “I mean the report from the alarm company seems to clear him.”

  “Clear him of what?”

  “Mina,” she moved her dishes off to the side and set both elbows on the table, “do you remember that Sunday a couple of months ago when I sent you to West Coast Software to get me a phone number and you—”

  “And I screwed up the alarm and almost got arrested by the K9 squad? How could I forget? I thought we had a deal not to talk about that.”

  The smile on Paola’s face was genuine this time. “I just wanted to remind you how it works. After unlocking the door, you punch in the code numbers and then call the alarm company to give them your access code.”

  “That’s what I forgot to do.”

  “Right. Well, it seems that someone has been visiting West Coast Software at night—without forgetting. The access code used was always either mine or Michael’s.”

  Mina threw her hands up in mock horror. “I swear to you Paola that I don’t even remember your code.”

  Paola leaned forward. “This is where it gets interesting. Michael’s number was used the Friday night he was in Chicago. I know he was there—Brian saw him.” She sat back in the booth. “How about that?”

  “You mean you suspected your own husband of stealing the disks? Cara Paola, you’re full of surprises.” Mina stared deep into her sister’s eyes. Would she ever know this woman completely? “Tell me, why would Michael steal from his own company?”

  “It’s my company.”

  “Yeah, we know that, but legally—”

  “It’s my company,” Paola repeated. “We have a written agreement, sealed and notarized. In case of divorce, I become the sole owner. He gets nothing. I have the option of keeping him on. That’s all.”

  Mina stared at her, impeccable Paola. Slowly she lifted her glass of water in a toast. “Here’s to love—and trust.”

  Paola gave her a withering look and began collecting her things.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Mina said. “I get dessert with my lunch. And you didn’t even touch your salad. Paola!”

  “You’re welcome to it.” Without another word, Paola got up and moved toward the cashier.

  * * * * *

  They stepped into the West Coast Software lobby just as Margo hung up the telephone. Detective De Fiore, she mouthed, pointing to Michael’s office. Paola walked toward the open office door with Mina in her wake. De Fiore was bending over one of Michael’s desk drawers, his back to the door.

  “Have you lost something, Detective De Fiore?”

  Paola’s icy voice made him jump. He spun around. In his hands was an open box of chocolate-covered cherry cordials.

  Paola stepped back, and Mina craned her neck to look inside the box.

  The rows of gold-wrapped candies looked like jewels.

  Only one thing marred the gleaming display: one of the chocolates was missing.

  Mina watched Paola’s gauzy blouse stretch over her heaving breasts. Something about her sister’s outrage triggered a childhood memory of herself at Easter time. She saw herself sitting on the cool hearth of the fireplace, coloring Easter eggs while her mother and the Parroco stood by the window, whispering. The parish priest, who wore a white stole over his black robe, had come to bless the house, as he did every spring.

  Mina had looked up and met the priest’s eyes; she was surprised by the intense curiosity she read there. He had turned away quickly, and Mina went back to coloring the eggs. Her mother’s voice rose, then fell back to a murmur. Mina heard her sister’s name mentioned, and the phrase “so implacably righteous”.

  It was the voice of this implacably righteous Paola she heard now, saying, “I demand an explanation.”

  De Fiore stretched his lips into a smile.

  Without letting him reply, Paola went on, “How dare you barge in here and go through my desk? I’ve tried to be understanding. I’ve tried to accommodate your investigation. But unless you have a warrant, this is trespassing
and I will no longer allow it.”

  De Fiore ignored her tirade. “Your desk?” he said, still smiling. “Then these must be your chocolates?” He pulled a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to Paola. “Search warrant, all in order.” His eyes didn’t leave her face. “Check it, please.”

  “Fuck you.” Paola let the document drop to the floor, turned and walked out of the office.

  De Fiore laughed so hard Mina could see tears glittering on his cheeks. “Has everybody gone mad?” she said.

  His tie-of-the-day was a rusty abstract on a black background. “Sorry.” He wiped his eyes. “Your sister’s reaction caught me by surprise. That doesn’t happen much in my line of work. And it’s hardly what I expected from her.”

  “No kidding.”

  He picked up the search warrant and walked out to the front office. Mina hurried past him.

  “Where did Mrs. Davies go?” he asked.

  “Warehouse.” Margo pointed up the hall. “No need to run, your colleague is right behind her.”

  “Colleague?” Mina whispered to Margo. “You mean Brian?”

  “Starrs is not my colleague.” De Fiore moved toward the warehouse.

  “I know that.” Mina glared after him. Turning to Margo, she mumbled, “The less that monster has to do with Brian, the better.”

  “What does Brian have to do with you?” Margo said. “Aren’t you flying to New York to meet the love of your life?”

  “Yeah, look who’s talking: Margo of a thousand men.”

  “Hey, watch your tongue. First your sister says the F word to the cop...”

  “Really Margo, why don’t you become a detective? Then you could get paid for eavesdropping.”

  “Who needed to eavesdrop?” she huffed. “You were all shouting with the door wide open.”

  “Forget it. So who came with De Fiore?”

  “Couple of cops, including that one who was with him the first time. You remember—tall, doesn’t talk much.”

  “Oh, right. So where was he while we were in the office with De Fiore?”

  “Up in the loft. One of them was standing outside the front door when you came in. Didn’t you notice him?”