Sniffing Out Murder (Mina's Adventures Book 7) Read online

  “So?”

  “So her aim would be to get a permanent visa if that’s possible, but I don’t know how you-know-who would react.”

  “How about you ask her?”

  “Ah, Mina, Mina, you make everything sound so easy. It isn’t. I was hoping you would sort, of… feel around, you know. Woman to woman. Friend to friend.”

  “And how was Venice, still sinking?” she said in English, loud and clear. Woman to woman? Right. “Oh, got to go, tell Margo to call me when she gets a chance. Ciao, Gino, buona fortuna.” The good luck, just slipped out. She found herself smiling and picturing Gino’s expression. The man had been a brilliant lawyer, and she assumed he must have been some kind of government spy when she met him in Vicenza where he conveniently ran a bar next door to Caserma Ederle, home of the 173rd Airborne Brigade. Yet he needed help telling his live-in girlfriend that his kid sister wanted to visit? Men.

  She went to her desk to double-check the info sheets of the cats they boarded today, and it hit her—Gino never mentioned Diego. How odd was that? They had spent time in Greece for the funeral and other related duties, and Diego picked him up at LAX and drove him home, Margo confirmed that. And yet Gino hadn’t mentioned his name once. Something wasn’t right.

  Her phone chimed. De Fiore.

  “Oh, my favorite detective…” she cooed.

  “Knock it off. I’m the only detective that… let’s make that the only Detective willing to give up precious time to follow your hunches… and this one isn’t going anywhere fast. Dead end. Just as I suspected.”

  “Are you talking about Isabel Cordero?”

  “Of course I am, why? You found some other investigations needing revisiting, Miss Fletcher?” Miss Fletcher? So Detective De Fiore watched television reruns, good to know.

  “De Fiore, what got into you? If you don’t want to do this, just say so. I’m a big girl I can take no for an answer.”

  “Sure you can, until I turn my back or hang up the phone, and the next thing I know someone is calling in about some crazy Italian chick sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. I looked at the Cordero file. There is nothing suspicious. The car had a flat tire; it appears Isabel Cordero owned a vehicle prone to flat tires. The neighbors said she must have been on her way to work. Everyone liked her. I couldn’t even find a nearby security camera with a glimpse of the car. Or the driver. That’s another thing—there is no car. So what do you suggest I do? Don’t say it. Of course the kid doesn’t want to accept that the mother is dead, it’s called denial. Got to go and—”

  “Wait, wait. What do you mean no car? The car is stored at Tio Gordo, as a matter of fact I’m supposed to meet the boys there to see how much it would cost to get it functional again.”

  Long sigh. Now Mina knew she had de Fiore’s attention. “Tio Gordo? What is it? A Mexican restaurant?”

  “The garage that took care of Cordero’s mechanical problems, we’ll be there at five, let me get you the address.”

  “I can get my own address, wait. See what you just did? You railroaded me… like I said.”

  “See you at five, and afterward I’ll take you to dinner down at the pier if you behave.” She hung up very fast before he had a chance to say no.

  Mina drove her own car to the mechanic’s shop. Tom’s truck was already there, parked under a lonely tree. No sign of De Fiore’s sedan, but it was barely five. The front of the building had signage in English and Spanish, a reflection of the neighborhood ethnicity. The overhead steel door was rolled up, and Mina walked into the large, cavernous shop. A car sat on jack stands; piles of old and new tires rested against the walls. A strong smell of old motor oil?

  Mina wasn’t sure but thought she heard voices coming from the back of the building and called out, “Helloo, anyone home?”

  The voices stopped, and a rush of feet followed. Buddy reached her before Leo could. The dog was off leash, and he actually jumped on her in a rather playful way, even so she was very surprised and not in a pleasant way. That’s how pets ended up in shelters.

  “Oh, hi, we are all in the back,” Leo said, completely oblivious to her disapproving expression.

  She followed him, keeping an eye on Buddy walking close to her. “How’s school?” she asked.

  “Fine, really fine. Thank you.” He wore what looked like brand new Nikes. Tom, no doubt.

  They made a slight right turn and were in a different room. It looked like an old patio that had been enclosed by large bay doors. And Tom, Simon, and a couple she didn’t know were standing around an old faded maroon car. As she got closer it appeared to be a Chevrolet Malibu—not because Mina knew much about cars, but because this old thing said just that on the back end of the car, right next to a huge dent.

  The males present seemed enthralled by the Chevy. The woman not so much, and she was the first one to greet Mina.

  “Hellooo, you must be the young lady from the cats and dogs place.” She spoke with a slight south of the border accent, and Mina liked that. It reminded her of Paco, and it had been a long time since she'd spoken to her mother’s old loyal former employee.

  “Guilty.” She smiled back.

  The silver haired woman walked around the car and shook Mina’s hand. “I’m Silvia, Gordo’s wife. I used to work with Isabel, such a loss, such a wonderful person.”

  Mina nodded and felt the man talking to Tom looking at her. When she returned the glance he nodded and introduced himself from the other side of the Malibu. “I’m Gordo, nice to meet you, Mina. Good thing you’re doing helping out these young men.”

  So this was Gordo, a short, feeble-looking man with kind, watery blue eyes and white hair. So much for her mental image of Tio Gordo being a husky man with a thick black mustache… ah.

  “Is this the car?” she asked, and there was a consensus of head nodding. It was a two-door. “How old is it?”

  “1981,” Gordo said. “It runs okay. Isabel only used it to drive around town, you know, to work, groceries, kids. She was well aware of the slow leak on the passenger side tire, every two days she would stop by, and I would put air in it for her. I did it for her that very morning—the tire couldn’t have gone flat like that.”

  “Like what?” De Fiore asked.

  They all turned to look at the detective. How long had he been watching them? He looked the detective part—a dark suit, white starchy shirt, and one of his trademark silk ties. Impressive.

  Leo stepped back, intimidated, but Simon stared at De Fiore like he was some kind of rock star. Seriously? Only Buddy wasn’t very interested and stayed close to Silvia and Leo.

  “How long have you been storing the car?” De Fiore asked Gordo.

  “I towed it back here about a week after—you know—”

  The detective nodded, and for a split second the place went quiet, dead quiet.

  “Anything inside?” He moved closer to the front of the car.

  Gordo shook his head—no. “Her personal belongings were returned to the family by the cops. I mean, I—”

  “You’re okay. I know what you mean.” Another step closer, he put his hand on the driver’s door handle and swung it open, quickly running his hands in the side storage. Then he walked around the back, and as he opened the passenger side door, Buddy jumped into the front seat.

  Mina had never seen one like that. Instead of two seats it was just one long bench with the safety belt buckles in the middle. The dog rubbed his head against the back of the seat and let out a soft whimper.

  Simon got very sad. “He loved to sit in front with my mom. She called him her guardian angel.”

  Leo put his head down and wouldn’t move, meanwhile Buddy lay on the whole length of the worn velour bench and sniffed around. He was probably responding to scents from Heaven.

  Even Mina's throat started to close, and she had never met Isabel Cordero. Someone had to get the dog out before everyone started to weep. Tom walked up and gently grabbed the collar, trying to coach the dog out of the car. Easier
said than done. His front paws seemed glued to the seat. Even his toes seemed to grab onto the fabric as he resisted Tom’s attempts.

  “I’ll get him.” Simon slid into the car, started petting Buddy, and slowly pushed him backward. Finally the paws began to slide off the seat, the left front one was stuck in the crack between the bench and the back and when it finally came lose, snagged in the toenails was a child’s pink lacy sock.

  EIGHTEEN

  THEY SAT AROUND the large, sturdy dining room table that could easily accommodate a football team. Maybe Gordo and Silvia Hunt were parents to a large brood. Their residence was an extension of the garage and felt lived in. While Gordo didn’t fit Mina’s stereotype image, their kitchen did. From the worn Saltillo tile floors to the inexpensive trinkets and the colorful pottery filled with paper flowers—it all screamed Mexican bazaar. The kitchen sink was made of beautiful tile and also had a leaky faucet that Mina found annoying and had a hard time diverting her attention from it.

  Silvia had quickly served bowls full of corn chips and salsa and beer for the adults and soda for the boys. De Fiore nursed his lonely beer, probably torn between being Mr. Detective and acting friendly to encourage people to talk.

  After Mina pointed out that the pink sock surely belonged to Lizabeth, Mrs. Somer’s tot, and Leo confirmed that, a few annoying details surfaced. Apparently on occasions when Isabel Cordero worked a few hours of overtime, Leo watched the little girl in exchange for candies Mrs. Somer bribed him with. Leo knew the pair of lacy socks were a Christmas gift from Lizabeth’s grandmother who lived in Chicago, but he had no idea how one of them ended up in his mother’s car. That the sock remained in the car long after Cordero’s death investigation was over was perhaps more disturbing than it being there at all.

  “Gordo, could you do me a favor and wait a few days before working on the Malibu?” De Fiore asked in his most folksy tone.

  That told Mina he’d finally seen the light, and was going to take a second look at the circumstances surrounding the accidental death of Isabel Cordero.

  Maybe it was his friendly manner or the fact that De Fiore had taken the time to get to know them, but Simon got into the act. “My mom wasn’t on her way to work when she died,” he said matter of factly.

  “I understand your doubts, Simon.” De Fiore kept his eyes on the older boy as he spoke to him. A man-to-man sort of thing Mina thought. “Leo told us about the lunch. That she always made your lunch before going to work.”

  Simon swallowed hard. “It’s not just that. She wasn’t wearing her uniform or her name tag.” He held De Fiore’s stare.

  “That’s right.” Silvia’s excitement was hard to miss, “I had forgotten about that. Isabel always wore her uniform with her name tag pinned on. She was such a responsible, caring person. Twice she made employee of the month, and everyone loved her.” Her voice trailed, sadness overtaking the excitement.

  “Maybe she forgot to wash the uniform?” De Fiore suggested.

  “It was clean and hanging on the bathroom door when I got up.” Simon’s tone sported an edge hard to ignore. “I made notes.” He rested his elbows on the table and stretched a little toward De Fiore. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget a thing for when the time would come.”

  “The time would come for what?” The whole table went silent waiting for Simon’s answer.

  “The time when a real detective would listen and make it his mission to find who killed my mother.”

  The implications weren’t lost on most of those present and certainly not on Mina. Her eyes were on De Fiore. Let’s see how he gets himself out of this one.

  “I read the report, didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Why would an investigator ignore telltale signs? They are professionals, and there is nothing personal that I can tell.”

  “Sir,”—Simon’s upper body stiffened, sitting directly across from the detective made the whole scene sort of awkward—“our last name is Cordero, and my mother was driving an old beat up 1981 Chevy.”

  Drip, drip—the faucet the only sound in the room.

  “Simon, you’re very observant.” If De Fiore was upset he knew how to hide it. “You would make a good detective. As for last names, forty percent of our officers come from minority backgrounds. I will take a second look.” His cell buzzed; he glanced at it, and Mina knew him well enough to notice the sudden changes.

  He didn’t answer the call, just pushed his beer slightly away and repositioned his tie while standing. “I apologize. I have to go.” He turned to Gordo. “Remember, don’t work on the Malibu yet. Thanks. I’ll take a rain check on dinner,” he said to Mina as he pushed back his chair and headed out through the shop, just as he had come in.

  “Is he your boyfriend?” Leo asked?

  “What? Oh, no, no. I met him when he investigated my mother’s—death. And we sort of became friends.” She hoped her answer would end there. No such luck.

  “How did your mother die?” Simon asked.

  After all those years, it should have been easier. It wasn’t. Maybe it was the time of the day, or being around De Fiore who reminded her of Diego. Her voice wasn’t cooperating, and she summoned all her concentration not to break down when she said it. “She was murdered, but it was staged to look as suicide. Thanks to Detective De Fiore, the murderer didn’t get away with it.” Maybe they hadn’t heard her. No one moved or spoke.

  “Is it true?” Simon finally asked. “You’re not just saying that to make us feel better?’

  “Simon, look at me. Do you think I’m making this up?” Tears welled up, and her voice caught. Silvia reached over and took her hand. “You poor thing, I’m so sorry.”

  “She’s telling the truth,” Tom said. “I didn’t know Detective De Fiore was in charge of that case, but yes, I knew about her mother.” He cleared his throat. “I think he’s a good man. Let’s give him a chance.” Buddy had been sitting quietly under the table. He suddenly got up, walked over to Mina, and put his head on her lap.

  “He used to do that with my mom,” Leo said. “I guess he likes you.”

  “She sort of reminds me of your mom,” Gordo said. “I don’t know, maybe it's the hair, same color, same length. I would sure like to know how that kid’s sock got into the front seat of the Chevy.”

  “How come the policeman took it with him?” Leo asked.

  Tom explained that they would probably try to find an answer to everyone’s question, not only how, but more importantly when the sock found its way to the front seat. They all agreed to wait on getting new tires and what else the Malibu would need to make a safe ride for Simon. Tom was going to talk to his insurance about prices for male drivers under twenty-one.

  Mina left, not much she could do there anyhow. The Hunts seemed like a nice couple who cared about the boys. That raised even more questions in Mina’s mind. Why would Simon leave Leo and Buddy with that awful neighbor instead of Gordo and Silvia’s place? The Hunts’ home was halfway between the kids’ rental on West Mariposa and the coffee shop where Isabel Cordero and Silvia worked. Strange, very strange.

  By the time she drove into her garage the moon had checked in full regalia. She sat in her LTD, looking at her old Volkswagen Bug, hidden under the car cover. All that talk about the 1981 Chevy brought back memories of her beloved old car. Why was she hanging on to it? It had been years since she'd even removed the cover. Maybe the time had come to sell it to some car collector who would restore it, give it a second life. A second life, sounded like a good perspective. Too much talk about death; she felt so desperately alone.

  Houdini picked that moment to hop onto her hood and walked the length of it to the windshield where he put his nose against the glass. It was as if the cat knew she needed a friend. Or maybe he was just letting her know, he was hungry. Her landline was ringing when she got to the kitchen.

  “Mina, I heard your car. I saved you some supper, just in case.”

  “Millie, how did you know?”

  “Know what?”<
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  “I had planned on taking De Fiore to dinner, but he got a phone call and split. So, yes, whatever you have would be welcome. Want me to come get it?’

  “No need, all our guests are taken care of. Kick off your shoes and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be there in five.”

  Mina followed Millie’s advice, went upstairs and changed into her nightgown and slippers. She couldn’t figure out why she felt so tired when she hardly accomplished a thing all day. Perhaps sadness could do that.

  They sat in the kitchen and watched the cats eating. Mina poured some wine in two glasses. Millie had already eaten but kept her company while bringing her up to date with the new cats and the activities taking place in Kalinda’s house.

  “I can’t figure out if they are moving stuff in or out,” she said. “A big truck came a little after five. They made enough noise it was hard to miss. They opened up the fence and drove down to the end of the driveway, so I have no idea what they did. I saw two men. They left about an hour later. Strange. How was your evening?”

  Mina gave Millie the short version.

  SHE'D NOTICED HER answering machine had a message, and her heart had leaped for an instant. No, Diego would have called her cell. She hit playback. It was Linda, calling from the shelter.

  “Hey, guess what. We made the short list. Oh, wait. You probably don’t know what I’m talking about. Furry Friends Foundation is one of the five finalists for the best nonprofit, no kill shelters in Orange County. The newspaper runs a survey every year, and people vote, so we got enough votes to make the top five. Is that exciting or what? You can read the official letter tomorrow when you get to the office. Bye.”

  “That’s wonderful, Mina, and well deserved.” Millie had overheard the conversation.

  “I’m—I don’t know what to say. I guess it’s good for the shelter, right?” she said to Millie.

  “Absolutely, I’m sure the sponsors of the contest are going to donate pet food and other necessities. You were due for some good news. I can tell you’ve been feeling a bit down lately.”