Love Thy Sister (Mina's Adventures Book 1)

by Maria Grazia Swan

  “I don’t have your sensitivity to anything in pants, Margo.”

  The receptionist bent down and pulled out her Spanish text, cracked the binding back before setting it on the desk. “Go away, Mina. I have better things to do than be insulted by you.”

  Mina rubbed her hands over her face. “Sorry I’m being bitchy. So, who’s giving you Spanish lessons?” she asked.

  “What do you mean, who?”

  “Are you taking night classes?”

  “Night classes,” Margo’s eyes glinted. “Yeah.”

  Mina knew that look. “Okay, Margo, who is he? De Fiore doesn’t speak Spanish, so it must be one of his men. Tall, dark, and silent, maybe?”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  Someone cleared his throat. Both women turned toward the sound.

  A short, dark-skinned man in a Hawaiian shirt stood by the open warehouse door. He looked edgy. Mina recognized the thin moustache; Ishmael Fernandez, who’d almost skewered her with the forklift.

  Margo pulled down her short skirt, attempting to cover her knees. Latent modesty?

  “Buenas dias, Ishmael,” she said.

  His eyes flickered from Mina to Margo, back to Mina. “Buenos,” he mumbled. He turned and went back into the warehouse.

  “What did he want? I thought he’d been fired,” Mina said.

  Without a word, Margo went back to her Spanish book.

  “Margo, have you got something going with pencil-moustache Fernandez?”

  “Shut up,” she said, her brown eyes as cold as a cobra’s.

  Mina looked at Margo in disbelief. “What’s gotten into everybody? My sister uses words I wasn’t even aware she knew. De Fiore goes into hysterics on the job. And now, you bite my head off over a Fernandez?”

  “Mina,” Margo’s eyes remained on her book, but her fake eyelashes quivered like palm fronds. “everyone’s going to be weird until Rachel’s murder is solved.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I, of all people, shouldn’t criticize anyone in the love department.” They were both silent for a moment. “Margo, why did De Fiore bring those other cops with him?”

  “He had a search warrant. I suppose it’s routine. One to watch doors and two—”

  “To keep people from leaving while they search the place?”

  “Look, why don’t you call up Brian and ask him? You two seem pretty chummy.”

  Mina turned red. “What are they looking for?”

  “Chocolate.”

  “Aren’t we all?”

  “No, I mean the cops are taking away everyone’s chocolate-covered cordials.”

  “Why do they need the candies? I already gave the wrapper to De Fiore.”

  “What wrapper?” Margo’s bovine eyes came to life.

  “The one from Paola’s chocolate—you know, the candy Michael left in her mail tray. De Fiore wanted the forensic lab to check the wrapper.”

  “Fingerprints?”

  “No, a needle mark.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Margo slammed the book shut without marking the page.

  “De Fiore thought it was from the candy that poisoned Rachel.”

  “Who gave it to her? You or your sister?”

  “Hey, no one gave her anything. She snuck in here and took it. If it wasn’t for her, Paola would have eaten it.”

  Margo glanced at her in a strange way, and then shrugged and said, “I’m glad I don’t work weekends. Anyhow, De Fiore already confiscated my box of chocolates; he promised me a new one.”

  “He took Paola’s too.”

  “I thought those were Michael’s.” That strange look was back again.

  “Maybe they were; what difference does it make? Do you think my sister is stupid enough to use her own candies to poison her husband’s mistress? Get real. I’m so sick of this place. I can’t wait to get to New York and forget about this whole mess.”

  The telephone rang, and Margo answered it on the first ring. Mina got up and stretched. Where could Paola be?

  The warehouse door whooshed open and in came De Fiore, looking like a hunting dog that just got a whiff of something good. Paola and Paco were behind, sandwiched between two uniformed cops.

  “Well, Detective,” Paola was saying, “Do I get handcuffed now or in the car?”

  “Are you looking for sympathy or just trying my patience?” De Fiore stopped, turned to look at her.

  She returned his stare, a muscle twitching at the corner of her lips.

  “Mrs. Davies, it’s going to be okay, really.” Paco sounded like a father reassuring his child.

  “Ladies,” Paola announced to Mina and Margo, “The detective insists that Paco and I join him for a ride to the station. We are not, I repeat, not under arrest—we are guests of the police department.”

  Mina opened her mouth but nothing came out. Arrest her sister? A minute ago she had declared Paola’s innocence to Margo, and now she was speechless.

  By the entrance, De Fiore leaned against the open door, watching Paola’s performance. The other two cops kept their eyes down. Were they embarrassed or just well trained guard dogs?

  Paco walked outside first. Paola hesitated, then straightened her shoulders and moved to the door. De Fiore gestured her through with a small bow, a Renaissance man doing the minuet.

  She turned back to Mina. Her twitch had increased almost to a spasm, and there was fear in her eyes. “Adams,” she said, then walked out the door and got into the black and white.

  CHAPTER 11

  “Yes Mr. Takawa, I understand.” Margo spoke into the phone. “No, he hasn’t called. Mrs. Davies is also out of the office right now. I’ll give her the message. Thank you, sir. Good bye.” She slammed down the receiver and scribbled on the note pad.

  “Third time this hour,” she said to Mina.

  “I know, Margo; I’ve been standing right here.”

  “Where the hell is your brother-in-law? He was supposed to meet Takawa for lunch at one-thirty. Never showed up, didn’t phone. I’ve been calling his cellular, all I’m getting is: `The mobile customer you are trying to reach is not available or is out of the area.’ He probably turned off the phone. He’s so irresponsible.”

  “Are all the Fernandez girls accounted for?”

  “Accounting is not my job.” Margo took a mirror out of the top drawer and fluffed her hair. “I need to go to the bathroom. Sit here, will you? I’ll be right back.”

  Even knowing what Margo’s `right back’ meant, Mina was too depressed by the latest events to argue about it. More than an hour had gone by since she’d phoned Paola’s lawyer. Adams said he would meet Paola at the police station and bring her back to West Coast Software as soon as the police were through. He bluntly ordered Mina not to make any visits to the Santa Ana Police Department.

  All the gaps in Paola’s story made Mina crazy. Why did Paola buy a box of candy the day of Rachel’s death? Why did Paola come to West Coast Software when she supposedly had a bad back? And above all, why did she lie to her?

  Her brother-in-law didn’t even know the police had taken Paola in for questioning. When Margo finished in the bathroom, Mina would get in her car and start making the rounds of Michael’s favorite spots. Adams didn’t say she couldn’t do that.

  The front door opened and Brian walked in, grinning. He startled her out of her reverie.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked. Why did he have to smile like that? Just remember—Patrick and Thanksgiving.

  “Is that any way to greet a friend?” He gestured at the desk. “Trapped again, huh? Where’s Margo?”

  “Did I hear my name mentioned?” Margo appeared outside the ladies room, pert and flirtatious.

  Brian ignored her. “I was sitting in Adams’ office when you called,” he said to Mina. “I thought you could use some company.”

  “Would you look at him?” Margo said. “He’s all dressed up.”

  Only then did Mina notice the dark gray pleated trousers and navy cashmere sweate
r he wore over a blue shirt. The same blue as his damned blue eyes that made her insides—

  “I’ve got to go. I’m going to look for Michael. Ciao.”

  Mina grabbed her bag and headed for the front door. Brian beat her to it and held open the thick glass door.

  “Mind if I tag along?” he said. His cologne smelled fresh, clean.

  “I don’t know.” She fidgeted with the zipper on her bag, aware of Margo’s attentive silence.

  As if sensing what bothered her, Brian said, “Maybe I should walk you to your car.”

  She flashed him a smile of gratitude. His blue eyes, so close, surprised her, as did the rush of blood, heat, and desire darting throughout her body. She wanted them to be alone. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted...

  Stepping back, Mina said, “Yeah, maybe you should.” Her car was parked in the far corner of the lot, under shade trees. The cool air outside let her breathe. “What do the police want from Paola?” she asked.

  “Well, I’m not sure, but I can guess.” Fallen leaves surrounded her car. He scuffed at some of them with his foot. Mina shivered. “Are you cold?”

  “I guess I am.” He put an arm around her shoulders, pulled her close, but she shrugged him off. That was all she needed. Old binocular-vision Margo would never let her hear the end of it.

  Brian looked puzzled. “Why don’t we get in the car?”

  “Good idea.” She searched for her car keys, hands shaking.

  Brian took the keys from her but stopped just short of the keyhole. “I forgot that you don’t lock your car.” He opened the door for her, went around and got in the passenger side.

  Mina put her hands under her legs. “So what’s your guess?”

  “About Paola? Well, the wrapper you gave De Fiore didn’t pan out—no needle marks.”

  “So? Someone could have put the cocaine in the chocolate after I unwrapped it.”

  “C’mon, Mina.” Brian shook his head. “The chocolate was in Paola’s in-basket. You had the wrapper, but no candy. Rachel ate a chocolate, but no wrapper was found in the loft. De Fiore thought he had the real thing, only the evidence didn’t back him up, so now he has to try again.”

  “What does that have to do with my sister?”

  “Paola is West Coast Software’s number one chocoholic,” he said.

  “That’s not a crime.”

  “No, but combined with the fact that Rachel was her husband’s lover.”

  “That’s not Paola’s fault,” she interrupted.

  “But now De Fiore is forced to approach the case from a different angle.”

  Poor Paola, at the mercy of Detective De Fiore. He didn’t give a damn about her sister. He just wanted an arrest, probably a promotion. And right now, when Paola needed her the most, Mina was sitting in her car with the California poster boy for dental care, worrying about whether or not he wanted to kiss her.

  “You can’t go down there,” Brian said quietly.

  Mina winced. Did he read her mind?

  “That’s why I’m here,” he continued. “Adams knows you too well. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t do anything impetuous.” He fiddled with the lever under the car seat until it slid backwards, giving him enough room to stretch his legs. His eyes were steady on hers, full of warmth and understanding.

  “Did Adams really send you over?” she asked.

  “Yes and no. Actually, I volunteered before he had a chance to ask. Adams cares a lot about Paola and you.”

  “Because I’m her sister?”

  “All I can tell you is that Paola is like a daughter to him. They’ve known each other a long time.”

  Mina shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Don’t you know that story?”

  Mina shook her head. “Paola won’t tell me much about her past. I don’t know why. And I don’t remember. I was a baby when she left.”

  “Well, when your sister arrived in the States, she went to Adams’ house as an au pair. Adams was just starting out, a young lawyer with a wife and a newborn baby. Paola worked for him for years, became like a part of the family. In fact, he introduced her to her first husband.”

  “Oh, that creep. She won’t even mention his name.”

  “That creep,” Brian said, “was incredibly wealthy, even for a lawyer. I wonder why Paola didn’t sell the house after their divorce. Considering the circumstances.”

  “The house is paid for, and it gives her a sense of security. But I know what you mean. That staircase must be a constant reminder. She calls it her million-dollar staircase.”

  “Well, throwing your wife down the stairs in front of a group of guests can get pretty expensive.”

  “Fifty-thou a step seems cheap to me,” Mina said. And now that money was invested in another bad husband. “Life is so strange.”

  “If you make it that way, it is. How about I go inside and call Adams? Get us updated about what’s going on.”

  She beamed at him. “Great!”

  “Promise to stay put?”

  “I’ll do better than that.” She started the engine. “I’ll drive you to a public phone.” No eavesdropping for Margo this time.

  The telephone booth was a short block away, in a gas station. Mina filled the Bug up with gas while Brian was on the phone. She finished before he did and pulled the car over to the phone booth. It was all she could do to stay in her seat until he was done.

  Walking to her side of the car, he motioned her to roll down the window. He leaned down, rested his arms on the door. “I got Adams on his mobile, and he said the best thing you can do for your sister, at this point, is to go straight home.”

  “Why? Is she there?”

  “The connection wasn’t very good, it was hard for me to understand him, but that would make sense. You go ahead and take off. I’ll walk back to West Coast Software and get my car.” He seemed in a big hurry to get rid of her. What was going on?

  Before she could ask, Brian reached in, took her hand and kissed it. When she tried to pull away, he turned it over and kissed her palm, the warmth of his breath sending a current of electricity from her fingers to her toes. “Ciao,” he said, smiling, and walked away.

  “Hey!” The word formed in her brain, never left her lips. Mina stared down at her hand. Brian was lying about the phone call. She sensed it. So now she could either run after him, or go home and find out what was wrong.

  The window rolled up, she started the engine. To hell with him, she’d go home. Brian had long since disappeared around the corner, anyway, and she wasn’t about to pull back into West Coast Software’s lot looking for him.

  Fifteen minutes later, barreling down the 405, she could still smell Brian’s cologne on her skin. With sudden insight, she realized that Brian must have gone home and changed after he left Adam’s office; maybe even showered. Why else would it have taken him over an hour to make a fifteen-minute drive?

  His open manner and that smile made Brian seem so simple and straightforward, but actually he was more complex than...

  Patrick and Thanksgiving.

  She got off the freeway, took side streets the rest of the way home. Life was too complicated for all this. Patrick was more than enough for her. No need to ask for new problems, at least not now.

  While stopped at a traffic light, she rubbed the palm of her hand against her jeans. But when the light changed, she smiled, looking at her hand on the steering wheel. She could still feel the tingle of Brian’s lips.

  CHAPTER 12

  Mina parked her bug in front of the house, waiting as the engine gave a couple of dying gasps before shutting off. She wasn’t even completely out of the car when she had to jump back in; Michael raced backwards out of the garage in his black Corvette. Was he trying to hit her? He swerved the sport car out to the street, all squealing tires and shifting gears, not even bothering to close the garage door.

  A man in a hurry? A man mad as hell? Or a man running away from something?

  At least he
was gone. And that was good. So, when she saw the red Thunderbird her heart sang. Paola was home. Paola wasn’t in jail.

  Inside, all the lights were on, and a sound of groaning wood came from upstairs. Mina’s mind flashed. Would Michael hurt Paola? Then something soft-landed on her face. It was a pair of men’s briefs, done in that paisley Mina recognized from Michael’s laundry. She threw them away as though they carried the plague.

  “Yuck,” she said, grimacing.

  Paola emptied another drawer over the railing. Dress shirts, the dry cleaning ribbons still intact, cascaded down on her head.

  “Hey, watch it,” she yelled.

  Paola leaned over the railing. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were home.”

  Mina grinned at her sister, so relieved to see her it made her giddy. Stretching out her arms, she said, “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”

  “That’s my line,” said Paola, attempting a smile. “I’m the one on the balcony.”

  “Whatever. Isn’t it a little early for spring cleaning?”

  Her smile gone, Paola shook her dark mane. “This cleaning is way overdue.”

  “I hate to tell you this, Paola, but usually the disgruntled spouse throws their mate’s belongings out the window—ideally on the street side.”

  “I know, but I didn’t want to litter.”

  Mina laughed and, after a moment, Paola joined her. “I feel silly talking down to you,” Paola said.

  “Never stopped you before,” Mina said.

  “Signorina,” Oh, the way she said it, with such tenderness—”come on upstairs,” she added, making a face at her.

  “I’ll grab something to eat and be right up.”

  “Wait, I’ll join you in the kitchen. I’m sort of hungry myself.”

  Paola dashed back to the bedroom, and Mina heard the sound of the drawer being replaced in the dresser. Impeccable Paola. She waited for her sister to come downstairs, and they walked to the kitchen arm in arm.

  At the kitchen table, Paola nibbled on cheese, sipped her wine. Mina devoured a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “I’m dying to hear about the jail. And Michael,” she said.

  Paola winced. “Please don’t use the word `jail.’ What do you want to know?”