Italian Summer (Mina's Adventures Book 3)

by Maria Grazia Swan

  No-zit opened his mouth then changed his mind. They sheepishly followed Emilia up to the next floor as Mina rushed to get some real clothes on.

  The first words out of Mina’s mouth when she joined them at Emilia’s table were, “How did you know where to find me? I’m staying at Professor Cervi’s place, and everything is under his name, phone and utilities. I don’t drive a car. I know very few people in town, and yet here we are.”

  “Signorina Calvi.” The one Emilia called Fabio pulled a paper from his pocket. “We are given instructions. We follow orders.”

  “Fair enough. So when did the poor man die? What happened? A heart attack? What do you need to talk to me about? I didn’t know him, exchanged maybe ten words max when I bumped into him at the cemetery—”

  “Signorina Calvi—”

  “Call me Mina.”

  “Um, we can’t.”

  Mina looked at the boys, then at Emilia, who nodded. “It’s true. They have to address you ‘officially.’ Ancient Italian rules.”

  “Since you were the last person to see him alive we have to ask you the details of your encounter.”

  She ignored Fabio’s question. “How did he die, when and where?”

  Silence followed her question. The two carabinieri seemed unsure what to do next. Emilia leaned ever so slightly toward the center of the table where the cops huddled together and whispered. She sipped her cappuccino.

  Fabio finally cleared his throat. “The man delivering the flowers for today’s funeral found his body early this morning.”

  “He was still at the cemetery?” Whoa, he died where she last saw him.

  “Yes, Signorina. His lifeless body lay at the bottom of a crypt.” The young man spoke in a solemn tone. His partner bowed his head and furtively made the sign of the cross. More ancient Italian rules?

  “Damn. Poor man.”

  Emilia didn’t speak, but Mina assumed she absorbed every word of the conversation.

  “When I left the cemetery yesterday afternoon, Piero said he was going to roll the crane into place near the crypt so he wouldn’t need to come in too early this morning. He expected someone to be there to help him finish the job because it was a two-man job to get the coffin into the underground drawer. That’s it. Nothing more was said. I pulled the gate closed when I left a few minutes later like he asked. His motorcycle was still leaned up against the outside wall, just like it was when I first got there.”

  “Inside wall, Signorina, inside wall.”

  “Nope. Outside wall. Anyway, I’m obviously not the last person to have seen him alive.”

  “We were told you were.”

  “Huh-uh, nope, the smart mouth who told you cops I was at the cemetery was obviously there also. How else would they know about me? Right?”

  “Hmm.” The young men looked at each other.

  Emilia’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

  “We will report what you told us, Signorina Calvi.” Zit-boy turned to Emilia. “Thank you for the cappuccino, Signora Lauri.”

  “Niente, it was nothing. You make sure and say hello to your mamma for me, okay?” She stood. “You boys know how to get out, right?”

  Emilia waited until the lobby door clicked shut before returning to the table. “What the hell just happened here?”

  “You’re asking me? I bet those two were sent to take me to jail. For what? They don’t even seem to know how and when the man died? Why pick on me?”

  “Nooo, they weren’t here to take you to jail. It’s the way they work. Questions for anyone and everyone.” She waved away Mina’s concern with a flick of her wrist. “But you’re right. It’s not even lunchtime. If Piero was found this morning, they barely got the body on the marble slab. They have no cause of death and don’t know when he died. Did you tick someone off? Aside from Loredana Lanza, I mean.”

  “Emilia, how? The only place where I’ve gone alone is… damn… the cemetery.”

  “I think we are making too much out of nothing. This is a small town. It’s possible Fabio and his buddy just thought they’d discovered a good excuse to come meet l’americana.”

  “That’s what Piero called me. He was nice and well dressed when I saw him yesterday, working on his day off.”

  “That’s what everybody calls you behind your back, Mina. Don’t look so sad. You didn’t even know him, why should you care? Two weeks and you’ll be back to the sandy California beaches, and all this will be forgotten.” Emilia choked up, reached over and hugged Mina. “Enough of this. Let me get you some food. I bet this cup of coffee is all you had today.” She stood and headed for the kitchen.

  “Hey, Emilia, can I open the terrace door? Fufa wants out.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  Mina heard the refrigerator shut.

  Emilia’s mention of the sandy beaches brought up images she’d rather remained dormant, images of Diego. She stepped out onto the terrace to admire the mountains crowning the valley… sandy beaches.

  A stubborn tear landed on her hand. Enough.

  She should tell Emilia about Signora Rossi and the carabinieri. Craning her neck, she looked down to the terrace below. Pink geraniums lined the edge of Signora Rossi’s terrace.

  Mina’s grandmother always had potted plants on her terrace during the summer months. Such a sad homecoming. As she bowed her head, she remembered Alex’s necklace left on the terrace table. That’s it, that damn cross.

  “It’s cursed,” she said out loud.

  “What are you saying? Are you talking to me?”

  “The cross and the chain, I’m telling you it’s cursed. Where did you put it?”

  Emilia walked out, drying her hands on a checkered dishtowel. “What are you going on about?”

  “Alex’s father gave her the crucifix. He believed it would protect her, and he died. She gave it to you as payment, and she disappeared. I removed it from my neck, and left it behind and the carabinieri think I’m a killer.”

  “They don’t think you’re a killer. You’re addicted to melodrama. Speaking of the necklace, where did you leave it?”

  “There, on the table.” But it was gone. “Cursed.”

  “It probably slid off when Diego shuffled the papers. Stop whining and look for it.”

  Mina got on her knees and crawled around. No necklace.

  “I’m doomed. Doomed.”

  “Look in Fufa’s bed. She loves to play with shiny objects. I think she’s part ferret. Go look. I’m cooking. Honestly, I think I need a glass of wine.”

  Fufa’s little nest was on the floor between the sofa and the chair. Mina patted around and under a toy mouse sure enough, she found the necklace, as well as a ball of rumpled silver wrapping paper. If cats pouted, Fufa did, but Mina didn’t care. She felt as if she just got a life extension. She wiped the chain and cross against her top then put it on.

  Chapter 14

  The small bathroom still smelled of clean, mountain pine soap—just like Diego. Mina brushed her teeth, eyeing his zippered toiletries pouch. To snoop or not to snoop? Why was life just one temptation after another? Resist or succumb? She spit out a mouthful of water with such energy little bubbles splattered all over the mirror. Maledizione. Wipe it clean. Diego would think she’s a slob. If he ever comes back, that is.

  Before she managed to clean it, the phone rang and she abandoned her plan.

  Was she destined to burst with hope every time the phone rang from now on? She ran into the bedroom and snatched it up.

  “Hel—Pronto?”

  Someone chuckled at the other end. A male someone.

  “Diego? Is that you?” Oh, please. Please. “Are you laughing at me?”

  “It’s not every day I get greeted with ‘hell.’”

  “I wasn’t trying to… hell, you know what I was doing. Where are you?” Come to me now.

  “In my car…”

  “You have a car phone?” Hold me. Kiss me. Make love to me. “I don’t remember seeing one.”

  �
��I don’t have a car phone, I have a mobile phone, your countrymen would call it a telefonino, except this one isn’t Italian. I’m coming to your place in a while. Do you think Emilia will be home so we can talk?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Absolutely? What are you? Her secretary?” His playful voice was like balm to her fickle mood.

  “No, it’s more the other way around, sort of. Hurry up. I can’t wait to see you.” And I’m not letting you out of my sight.

  “One short stop and I’m on my way. Maybe an hour. I’ll ring the bell when I get there. Don’t want to startle you. Okay, bella, see you in a bit. Behave.”

  He hung up. She was giddy with anticipation. She should tell Emilia. They could have dinner together, the three of them. Oops, that meant Emilia would end up cooking again. As soon as she got back home she would learn how to cook. Yes. Cooking school or television chefs or something.

  The gravedigger. She forgot to tell Diego about the gravedigger. Double damn, he was probably out there gathering information not knowing the poor man was dead.

  Better go warn Emilia. She made a detour through the bathroom, wiped the mirror with a towel. Satisfied with the results, she headed upstairs.

  Diego showed up at sunset. He brought not one, but two bottles of Prosecco, and to her surprise, he had a garment bag and a briefcase. A briefcase. A new discovery every day.

  Emilia seemed delighted to fix dinner and kept repeating how nice it was to have someone to cook for.

  With a storm darkening the sky, they ended up eating inside but left the terrace door wide open. A light breeze swayed the sheer drapes just as the first time she’d visited Emilia’s place. Electricity filled the room and it had nothing to do with the bolts in the sky. Emilia drank much Prosecco. Mina picked at her food. And Diego? Diego kept his exasperating cool throughout.

  Mina shouldn’t have been stressing over the Alex, Vittorio and Piero drama. She had no personal involvement. Still…

  They carried their dirty dishes into the kitchen. Mina finished clearing the table, and by the time coffee was ready, they sat back to talk. Diego pulled out the folders Emilia had given him.

  “There is something you need to know.” Emilia spoke first. “Piero, the gravedigger is dead.”

  “So I heard.” Diego removed a stack of papers from the top file. “I was in someone’s office collecting information when I was told a Pietro Rinaldi had died. Victim of a fall. Because of the location, he had to be the same person. At that point I had no reason to keep searching. Here is what I have so far. Would you like to go over it together, or are you done with it?”

  Emilia didn’t answer.

  “He died from a fall, just like Vittorio. Right Emilia?” Mina reflected out loud. “Sort of poetic justice. Don’t you think?” Her sentence hung in the air, and for no reason at all the hair on the nap of her neck stiffened.

  “Poetic justice or modus operandi?” Diego smiled at her, appreciation in his eyes. “Very perceptive, Mina.” He lined up the typed sheets on the table. They all moved closer. A sense of urgency seemed to possess them.

  “Emilia, I’ll go over what I have,” Diego began. “If something catches your attention, stop me. I’m not sure what we’re looking for. Pietro Rinaldi is his real name. He is originally from Veneto—Treviso, to be exact. Migrated to South Africa years ago for a job in the textile industry, married a Dutch girl, the union produced two boys. At some point, the wife left and went back to her country. One of the sons, in his late teens got into legal trouble, something to do with rape and attempted murder. He ended up in prison. A year later, he was killed during a prison riot in Johannesburg.

  “Pietro Rinaldi packed his stuff and came back to Italy with his surviving son. I’m guessing he came to your town because when he left Italy, business here was booming. Instead, he found the factories closed and the jobs nonexistent. He accepted the only job available, cemetery caretaker. His record is spotless. It was work and home. He lived in a small, two-room apartment not far from the church. He passed by the nun’s place every day to get to work. He was on his way to work when he discovered Vittorio.”

  “No connection to Loredana Lanza?” Emilia asked.

  “Who?”

  “Loredana la puttana.” Mina couldn’t help herself.

  Diego seemed shocked, Emilia amused.

  “Hey, don’t look at me, I’m repeating what Emilia called her. Personally, I call her Lola. There.”

  “Lola?” Judging by his tone, Diego found it funny.

  Mina nodded. “She’s Vittorio’s twin sister. We all went to the same school. They were ahead of me. Vittorio was nice, his sister not so much. In all honesty, kids picked on her, but she was big enough to take care of herself.”

  “And you?” His eyes smiled.

  “Oh, I wasn’t picked on like she was, and Vittorio was there to help. She’s the only person I’ve run into from my school days. She and Piero had something to do with each other. I saw them arguing, but I don’t know what it was about.”

  Diego listened then seemed to consider what she said. “Emilia, I’ll make a few calls in the morning to see if they determined when Rinaldi died and if they have a specific cause of death. Don’t look so disappointed. I didn’t find any answers either.”

  Emilia sighed. “You probably think I’m some old woman with too much time on her hands. I can’t say I’d blame you.” Her eyes were tired and red-rimmed. “Vittorio was like family, such a hardworking man, never too busy to lend a helping hand. I was surprised, no, more like shocked when he turned over the business to his sister, Loredana. I told him so one day when we ran into each other at the cemetery. He looked so happy; there was an inner glow. He confided he wanted to be able to take time off, go see the world then he hugged me. ‘Emilia, I met someone,’ he told me. ‘She is so special, I’m in love.’ He left before I had a chance to ask more questions. I was thrilled for him, dying to meet the lucky girl. I never had a chance; he was dead two weeks later.”

  “Emilia, I’m so sorry. Was his fiancée at the funeral?” Mina asked.

  “I don’t know if they were engaged yet, but I didn’t see any outsiders at his funeral. Then again I don’t even know if the girl was local. He wasn’t the talkative type.” She shook herself. “Enough with the depressing stories. Diego, has Mina told you about the two young men who came calling this morning?”

  “No, she hasn’t.” He winked at Mina, laid his hand beside hers and poked her pinky with his.

  “They were cops. Carabinieri. Interrogating me about the gravedigger’s death.” Mina said quickly, with perhaps more drama than necessary.

  Diego wasn’t amused. “Wait. Wait. Slow down. Tell me what happened.”

  Mina told him.

  When she was done, he asked, “When are you going back to the States?”

  “Why is everyone interested in my departure?”

  “Who else asked you?”

  “Piero, the dead man, then he told me to watch myself or something like that.”

  “Maybe you should get an earlier flight. I can arrange it for you.”

  “Why would I do that?” Loud thunder drowned her voice. Heavy drops hit the terrace and the windows.

  Emilia went to close the door. “Yes, why do you think she should go home? What’s your concern?”

  “Although she was born here, after ten years away, she’s an outsider. Mina, there is no Detective De Fiore, no friend of the family like your lawyer, Adams, to protect you in this town.”

  “You are here.” A knot formed in her throat. She didn’t want to hear what she knew would come next.

  “You can’t count on that. You know it. Mina, think about it. Okay?”

  Emilia seemed to grow more agitated. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Emilia, this isn’t about Mina. It’s about you.” His voice sounded a bit strained, less friendly. “The visit from the carabinieri was a warning shot. You’ve obviously been rattling someone’s cage so they sent
two kids you know and trust to harass Mina, knowing it would get back to you.” He turned to Mina. “Bella, this isn’t your fight. What do you say? Let me check for an earlier flight.”

  Mina was speechless. Diego was probably leaving, and he was so worried about her he wanted her to go back to the States. There had to be more to this than the visit from the carabinieri.

  “Emilia, Piero was already dead when the carabinieri showed up. There is something else here, what kind of questions have you been asking?”

  “No questions.” Emilia shrugged. “I may have confided to a gossipy friend that I might try to get Vittorio’s body exhumed. An idle threat of course, but one never knows. If it got around to the wrong person, it could, indeed, have started something.”

  “Looks like it did, and whoever is feeling the pressure is not wasting any time. I’m sure you’ll agree this is not something Mina should get sucked into.”

  “Hey, I’m right here,” Mina said. “I heard you. Don’t you want to know what I think?”

  “He is right.” Emilia sounded tired and crushed. “He is one hundred percent right. You should take Diego’s advice and take an earlier flight home.”

  They sat quietly, the storm raging around them. Diego grimaced and rubbed his temples. He did that often lately. A new habit? The power went off for a few minutes. Emilia’s and Diego’s faces seemed eerie as flashes of lightning illuminated them. Diego squeezed her hand. He was leaving. He was trying to let her down easy. She wanted to die. The power returned and they looked like a freeze frame, the three of them, sitting and staring at the dark rings inside the empty coffee cups. He’s leaving.

  Emilia’s warning danced in her head. If you can accept him the way he is…

  She found her voice. “Does this have anything to do with Alex?”

  “This? You mean my asking you to go home?” His eyes met hers. “I’m trying to keep you safe the best way I know. Nothing to do with Alex.” He shook his head. “I did call her mother yesterday. She said she sent her daughter chasing around Italy for a distant relative known to travel with a group of gypsies whose signature was needed for a small inheritance. That’s why Alex used the last name Kotor, the relative’s birthplace, sure to attract his attention. The mother wanted to keep Alex busy, cheer her up, keep her from feeling bad about her getting fired. Alex found the relative, but after that, the mother lost the daughter.”