Bosom Bodies (Mina's Adventures)

by Swan, Maria Grazia

  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.

  Maledizione. Ginger had an answering service? Since when? Maybe the guy she married had a lot of money and wanted privacy. If he was so rich, why did Ginger need to work at Bosom Bodies? The frustration from the call helped Mina overcome her fear, and she decided to get into her comfy robe and watch television.

  She had barely slipped her arms into her robe when the doorbell rang. She froze. Visitors were supposed to check in with the guard. No one had called from the gate. Dio mio. DeFiore’s words echoed in her brain. “Don’t open the door unless you ask who it is first.”

  The doorbell rang again. She tiptoed to the corner of the hall wall, trying to catch any noise on the other side of the door without being seen through the peephole. Little noises came from the front door, like the sound made by fingers drumming on a tabletop. Whoever was ringing the doorbell was also finger dancing on her door? Somehow that frightened her even more.

  She tiptoed back to her bedroom. Time to set pride aside and call DeFiore. Her corduroy skirt lay on the floor where she had dropped it. Mina retrieved DeFiore’s card from the pocket.

  He picked up right away. “Hello.” He sounded—happy. She could hear music and laughter in the background. She felt so guilty. “Hummm, DeFiore? It’s me, Mina.”

  “Mina, you okay?” Suddenly he was detective DeFiore, even the music and the laughter faded.

  “I am, it’s just… I don’t know. Sorry to bother you at home. You see, there is somebody at my door.”

  “Now?”

  “A few minutes ago. Maybe he is gone now.”

  “He? You know the person?”

  “Not really, but a new neighbor moved in next door. He may be the one ringing the door bell.”

  “Did you ask who it is?”

  “No, just a hunch. I’m sitting here in the dark, feeling stupid. Maybe I overreacted.”

  “Mina, remember the old saying, ‘better safe than sorry.’ However, if he had bad intentions and your place is dark, he would have assumed you weren’t home and forced his way in. Could he just want to meet his neighbor?”

  “This late at night?”

  “Mina, it’s eight o’clock.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do me a favor, turn on all the lights, even the outside ones, put the TV on, make a lot of noise. While you do that, I’ll call the guards at the gate and ask them to send someone over. Shhh, listen, no big deal. They’ll come by and say hello. How is that?”

  “Oh, okay. I guess.”

  “And Mina, this is good, you calling if there is a problem, no matter how small. Call me back if the guard doesn’t come fast enough. I’m here. Call.”

  Mina hated to admit to it, but she felt relieved. She went around the small condo and turned on all the lights, just like DeFiore said to do. She switched on the terrace lights last.

  Five minutes later the guard rang the doorbell, announcing in a loud voice, “Miss Calvi, it’s Herb from the front gate, making a welfare check per Detective DeFiore’s request.”

  She ran to open the door before the guard woke up the whole building. Herb breathed heavily like he had run up the four flights of stairs instead of having stepped off the elevator.

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much. So kind of you. All is well. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “No problem, Miss Calvi.”

  “Call me Mina, okay?”

  “Would you like for me to walk through the house?” The guard asked.

  Mina shook her head. “No need, really. Do you get calls like this often or am I the only pain in the neck?”

  Herb must have weighed some two hundred fifty plus pounds and reminded her of the Pillsbury Doughboy. “You are not a pain. Besides, if no one needed us, we’d be out of a job.”

  Mina nodded. He was probably a retired professional who never did any physical work in his life. Someone’s asthmatic grandpa.

  “Thanks, Herb, you make me feel better. I’ll be fine. Thanks again, and good night.” Was she supposed to tip him? What did other people do?

  After he left, Mina sat on the couch. She no longer wanted to watch the news. She felt lost and lonely. Was this a preview of her life? She didn’t have a job or a purpose. She stopped going to school the same month her mother died. At first she kept busy straightening out her birth papers, the inheritance. All that legal stuff she hated so much because every paragraph, every word, every comma, reminded her that her mother was gone forever.

  Brian and their budding romance lightened her dark days. Then came the sale of the home and soon after, the merger of the business. Her friends were more acquaintances than friends. Paco and Adams would always be there for her if she needed them, but both had families and professions that came first. Here she sat in this high-end condo staring at a blank wall, too sad and depressed to even finish unpacking. Herb, the guard, must have thought she had been robbed or something since the bare walls left the condo looking as warm and lived in as a highway rest stop.

  Looking back, she realized the reason she had so easily accepted the Ginger/Bosom Bodies charade was more because it sounded exciting than because she wanted to do a favor for a friend. Same story with driving Angelina, or whatever her name really was. Ginger, Barbara and Angelina were not her friends. She didn’t even know where they lived. Come to think of it, she didn’t know the name of Ginger’s husband either.

  Enough with self-pity. She would make herself something to drink, and then watch TV. Maybe Brian would call after all, and she could apologize.

  She went into the kitchen to explore her options. No hot cocoa, the thought of it made her nauseous. She had a bottle of Prosecco a vendor had given her as a gift because the wine came from Vicenza, a town very close to her birthplace. She was saving it for a special occasion but remembered some instant tea bags in the welcome basket left in the condo by management. Green tea, perfect, it suited her mood.

  She filled a small saucepan with water, and put it on the stove to heat up, the she went to look for a mug. DeFiore had taken two of her mugs and the other two were still in the dishwasher from coffee with Margo that morning. How much more pathetic could her life get? She had to wash a mug in order to drink a cup of tea. Damn.

  A noise, like something bouncing on glass, she turned. Oh, no. The water had come to a full boil and sputtered over causing the saucepan to quiver and shake on the smooth stovetop.

  “No, no. What’s wrong with me? I can’t even boil water.” She grabbed the saucepan handle, burning her fingers while spilling water all over the kitchen floor.

  Mina sat on the wet floor, paper
towels spread around her, and sobbed.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, crying and calling her mother’s name. She knew she had to stop the nonsense, take control of her life. Grow up. When she tried to stand, her left leg had gone to sleep.

  “So be it.” She hopped to the refrigerator, grabbed the bottle of Prosecco and went looking for a flute.

  She had never ‘popped’ a bottle of bubbly on her own before. Time to learn. It shouldn’t be as painful as boiling water. Waiters in restaurants always used a napkin around the bottle, like people do with scarves around their neck on winter days. She could do that. The closest thing she had to a napkin was a dishcloth.

  She wrapped the top of the bottle carefully, untwisted the silver wire holding down the cork and waited. Nothing happened. Mina tried to pry the cork with her thumbs, but again, nothing budged. “Never shake a sparkling wine bottle.” That part she remembered, so what next? She carried the bottle and the flute into the living room, set the glass on the low table, sat on the couch, squeezed the bottle between her knees and pulled on the cork with both hands. With a loud POP it flew from the bottle, right between her fingers, ricocheted against the ceiling, and loudly hit the glass door to the terrace. Mina felt giddy over such an accomplishment.

  She poured the foamy wine into the flute and admired her handy work. Not a drop had been spilled. All right!

  Where was that cork? Down on all fours, she crawled around looking for the cork, which had bounced off the glass door. She was searching in that general vicinity when she glanced through the glass.

  The terrace light shone on a pair of pointed, dark boots standing outside her door.

  Chapter 9

  Mina jumped to her feet, but instead of running to hide in her bedroom, she turned to look straight into the intruder’s eyes.

  “Huh?”

  Diego, the cook from Bosom Bodies, stared back at her, a grin on his face, a poster-sized white cardboard saying Howdy Neighbor in his hands.

  A thousand thoughts zoomed through Mina’s mind, the wish to kill Diego being the clear winner. It could have been seconds or hours the two of them stood staring. Waiting for the other to make a move?

  With a sigh, Mina opened the door. “You’re my new neighbor? What? You missed me so much at Bosom Bodies you decided to move next door? Let me guess, they made you manager, and you decided to ‘elevate’ your life.” Mina meant to play on the word elevate because of the condo’s location, hoping Diego would feel the insult and remember. He started it with his remark the night he drove her home because of the flat tire.

  “You don’t know?” He stepped uninvited into the room.

  “Know what?” She caught a whiff of that scent of mountain pine he seemed to carry on him.

  “Bosom Bodies is closed. Indefinitely.”

  “Oh. Because of Barbara’s death?”

  He ignored her question. “I rang your door bell earlier, I guess you weren’t home.”

  She wasn’t going to tell him how his bell ringing sent her into a fear-fueled frenzy.

  Mina closed the terrace door. Her phone rang in the bedroom. Brian. Without hesitation or explanation she rushed to answer, leaving Diego standing alone in the middle of the living room.

  “Brian?” She spoke into the mouthpiece.

  “Sorry, kid, it’s Dan. DeFiore.”

  “DeFiore?”

  “Did you call Ginger Miller’s phone number?”

  “Huh, yes. How do you know?”

  “Mina, pay attention. The police are monitoring Ginger’s calls. When you call her, you are really calling the police station, so do me a favor and don’t call again. Okay?”

  “What did you do to Ginger?”

  “For God’s sake Mina, there is no Ginger. If there ever was one, she is long gone. We don’t need you to complicate things.”

  “I beg your pardon. Are you saying I lied to you? I made Ginger up?”

  “No, I’m saying someone else made her up and got you involved, and until we get this sorted out, I’m telling you to stay out of it. Go shopping, watch a movie, anything. Just stay out of this.”

  “How can I stay out of it if I don’t know what it is?”

  “You sound more like Paola every day. I swear.”

  “Really? You really mean that? I sound like my mother? What a nice thing to say. By the way, do you know who my new neighbor is?”

  “No, I don’t know who the new neighbor is, but I’m sure you are about to tell me. And Paola could be a real pain in the butt sometimes, but if that makes you happy, okay. Now behave. It’s for your own good.”

  “It’s Diego, the cook Diego.”

  “The who? What? Oh, got it. A nice man, you can trust him.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I have all night.”

  “You’re sounding like Paola again. Got to go. Don’t call that phone number. And trust Diego. Listen to me, and you may get your car back sooner. Goodnight.” He hung up.

  She turned her head, phone in her hand, and saw Diego leaning against her open bedroom door. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long enough, I’d say.” He had that abstract smile that didn’t match the piercing look in his eyes, and Mina felt like he was mentally gulping down every detail in her room, every detail in her life.

  “How do you know DeFiore?”

  “Why do you always call him by his last name?”

  How clever, answer a question with a question.

  “It’s very Italian, easy to pronounce, and it means ‘of the flower.’ Why am I telling you this? You speak Italian.”

  Diego shrugged. “Oh, I don’t speak that well, just the basics.” This time his smile was unabridged.

  Mina remembered she was in her robe, sitting on her bed. She felt…exposed. She dropped the phone, stood and said, “How about a glass of Prosecco?”

  “So that’s what you were working so hard to uncork.”

  He had been watching her. How long?

  Goose bumps crept over her arms. DeFiore’s remark, ‘a nice man, you can trust him,’ lost some of its persuasion. Might as well go with the flow, offer him a drink and send him home through the front door.

  They sat sipping wine. Diego read the label, Gambellara, province of Vicenza. “Is that where you are from? Vicenza?”

  “The province, yes, but I’m from a smaller town. You probably never heard of it.”

  “Try me.”

  “Why? You know Vicenza?”

  “The birthplace of Palladio? And Caserma Ederle, home of the 173rd Airborne Brigade in Vicenza?” His expression changed, his eyes focused on something Mina couldn’t see.

  “When did you move in?” She wanted to lift the mood. The man was more temperamental than she was. Not an easy feat.

  “Must have been right after your magic evening with Angelina.” His sarcasm was back with a vengeance. “Anyway, I didn’t see your car in the assigned parking, so, yes, must have been Tuesday.”

  He knew about Angelina? And where she parked her car?

  Mina had to keep talking. The silence made her feel awkward. “Did you get a new job?”

  “No, I’m spending my kid’s inheritance.”

  “You have kids?”

  Diego laughed, a hearty laugh but not loud, sort of intimate. “No. No kids, no wife, just wanted to see your expression. Totally worth it.” He patted her knee. His hand didn’t linger, but Mina felt a surge and hoped he didn’t notice.

  “How come I didn’t see movers, some kind of commotion?”

  “Maybe you were still under the influence. I don’t know. I’m renting the condo furnished and I travel light.” He glanced at the stacked boxes against her walls.

  He knew about Angelina and the drug. What else did he know? Who told him? Had he been speaking to DeFiore? What if he were a spy? If so, he was in the wrong place, she thought. Nothing to spy on there.

  “Are you sure Angelina didn’t ta
ke anything from you? Why would she go through all that set up if she wasn’t looking for something?”

  “I had a hundred dollars cash in my purse. She didn’t take it. She can’t wear most of my clothes or shoes. They won’t fit her. What else is there? My old TV?”

  “You know that saying, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure?”

  “I didn’t have any trash either.” Accusing her of bad housekeeping? None of his business. “The only remarkable thing is the scent of perfume.”

  “You mean in your bedroom?”

  “See, you noticed too. It was my mother’s perfume. I packed it when I moved, and I haven’t opened the box yet.”

  “Maybe Angelina did. Let’s go check.”

  “What? I don’t know which box it is in. I didn’t mark it.”

  “Look, you have to unpack at some point. Besides, if it is perfume that spilled, it may damage whatever else is in the box. I’m offering to help. Come on, it’ll be fun. Let’s take the bottle and glasses and make it an unpacking adventure.”

  After all the evenings of pure boredom, his suggestion sounded like an invitation from heaven. They each grabbed their glass of Prosecco. Diego picked up the bottle and they headed to her bedroom.

  All the boxes had been sealed with packing tape. Mina suggested a metal nail file to replace a box cutter, but Diego pulled out a pocketknife. The blade caught the reflection of the light fixture.

  “Let’s start with the smaller boxes,” Mina suggested. She didn’t want Diego to know she felt intimidated by his knife.

  They ended up sitting cross-legged on the bathroom mat. Mina grabbed the closest box from the counter. All the contents spilled around her. The tape holding the bottom together had been slashed open.

  “Are you okay?” Diego asked.

  Covered with bath salts and cotton balls she nodded. She was shocked. She examined the now empty box. It had no markings except for the word ‘top’ clearly marked in black. That same marking was on all the boxes. Why cut open the bottom? She looked at Diego. He frowned, then stood and slid his hands along the bottom of the next box before turning it over. It, too, had been slit open.