Sniffing Out Murder (Mina's Adventures Book 7) Page 2

  Mina snapped out of her reverie when Linda came back with Aspen in tow.

  “The leg seems fine. Find it?” Linda asked.

  “Uh-huh, I think the phone number we have on the application is the same one connected with the microchip. It’s a San Clemente address on Mariposa. Makes sense since the dog was found wandering around the train track in San Clemente. Let me make a copy of this, and I’ll go pay a visit. If no one is there I’ll talk to the neighbors in case they moved and the dog got lost. What do you think?”

  “Works for me. I still think we need to do the Internet search first, especially if there were teenagers in the home.” A loud crash came from the cat room…”Darn, I bet it’s that new tabby. She’s terrorizing all the kittens. Here take this. I’m going to check.” Linda handed Aspen’s leash to Mina and took off to the cat room. Mina found herself smiling. The cats often acted like little brats regardless of age, too busy competing with each other to get into serious fights.

  With the dogs it was very different. Some of the small dogs yelped constantly. Others became depressed and refused to eat, just sleeping or pretending to. The few large dogs were in a room by themselves because they were indeed loud. On a scale of one-to-ten, Aspen was as close to a perfect ten as possible, based on rescued-dogs scale of course.

  She could drive to the address on the original adoption papers after five, better chances of finding people at home. “Come on, sweetie, let’s find you a cozy place with a soft blanket and some dry food.” Better avoid calling him by his old name so as not to confuse him.

  She walked him to the small room with the Dutch door where they provided low cost vaccinations on weekends. By closing the bottom part and leaving the top open Aspen could see people and pets coming and going from the front office to the back rooms without getting out. He had plenty of dry food, water, a blanket, and a tennis ball to keep him entertained. Instead, he made himself comfy on the blanket and went to sleep.

  One of the older women who fostered kittens came by with a plate of freshly baked brownies, so Leigh made coffee, and they all sat around the table where most of the adoption papers were signed, eating, sipping coffee, and discussing Aspen. But only Linda, Leigh, and Mina were familiar with the dog’s past.

  This was the perfect day for catching up with the never-ending laundry—towels, blankets, and the washable toys dogs of all sizes liked to chew on. Most items were donated,.

  “I wish I could find some affordable handyman to come and take care of the Ritzy Cats B&B before Millie gets back,” Mina said. “What a fiasco my poor planning got me. Wasted a whole week. Millie is coming back Saturday convinced she'll find her place freshly painted in the pale, sunny yellow she picked. Will she be unpleasantly surprised! And then the Tuesday after that we’re booked to start taking in cats for boarding again. Ah! What a mess. Help?”

  “Are you serious?” the brownie baker asked. “What happened? Didn’t you hire the construction people working on your friend’s home?”

  Mina nodded, still chewing. “Kalinda left in a hurry, and so did the workers. Have no idea how to contact the workers or Kalinda.”

  “Ask Tom,” Linda suggested.

  “Tom? Security guard Tom? Why? Is he a house painter?”

  “Nooo. You see, he’s old, but not too old and has many retired friends. Most of them sit home getting bored. I bet they’d jump at the chance to make some money. What have you got to lose?” Linda said.

  “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’ll do that. What time does he come in?”

  “He’s usually here around six. By here I mean in the complex. Since his wife died he’s alone, so he comes early, picks up fast food and goes to sit with the people at the janitorial service office. He hangs out with them, and he starts his shift once they’re done. If you leave early to go down to San Clemente, I’ll lock up and keep an eye out for him. If he’s interested I’ll have him call you, how is that?”

  “That would be terrific, Linda. Great idea. Thanks.” Mina got up and gathered the dirty mugs and paper plates, thinking it better to clean up in case someone showed up to look at some sweet pet.

  Linda went back to the front desk while Leigh and the volunteer toured the cats’ room.

  Sky was taking photos of Aspen to post on social media when Mina left to go try to locate the dog’s rightful owners.

  THREE

  TOO EARLY FOR sunset, too late for sunbathing in spite of it being a glorious day. Meanwhile, back home in Italy it may be snowing. All those silly thoughts danced in Mina’s head while she drove down Avenida Palizada on her way to West Mariposa.

  This was the somewhat older part of San Clemente, with houses built before zoning was invented or enforced. Two-story houses with tiled roofs, three-car garages, and front lawns, luscious enough to compete with Encinitas meditation gardens, sat next to modest bungalows with more front doors than windows and no covered parking anywhere. The expensive homes should be the ones with commanding views, or so it seemed.

  The address on the original adoption application belonged to one of the bungalows. Well, the street number did, but the letter B—unit number—was on one of the many doors that possibly opened into a small rental place hatched from a former garage. Faded shingle roofs and no double pane windows here. But it was neatly kept with even a few de rigueur blooming geraniums in colorful clay pots, perhaps crafted by some of the little cash, big dreams artistic souls living in the neighborhood. A For Rent sign hung on door B. The phone number on the sign wasn’t the same as the one on the adoption papers.

  In front of door A sat a pink tot’s size tricycle with purple flowers painted on the metal frame. It looked new. Mina parked her LTD on the street, trying to decide what to do next. She rolled down the window. This was certainly a quiet street. The loudest noise seemed to come from car engines on nearby roads. Rock music escaped from door A when it opened and a young woman came out, holding a child in her arms. Mina hopped out of the car, leaving the engine idling.

  “Lady, excuse me, young lady?” Young lady? Seriously? She waived Aspen’s adoption file while approaching the woman who didn’t look very interested in whatever Mina wanted. “Sorry to bother you, I’m trying to locate”—she glanced at her papers—“Isabel Cordero and…” If looks could kill, I’ll be dead.

  The tot’s mother frowned. “Do you think it’s funny? Who the hell are you?”

  “Huh, funny? No. Why? I’m confused. Only try to help.”

  “Oh, really? And just how are you planning on doing that? Helping someone who’s been dead and buried for months?” The child pulled on the mother’s long stringy hair while making sucking sounds. The woman pushed the chubby little fingers away, and her expression softened a little. “Wait, were you here to donate to the funeral GoFundMe? It was shut down, but you could leave the money for the kids. They can use it.” A pause. “I would make sure they get it.”

  Mina felt like dirt. But a dog is never just a dog. And in this case a dog may be precisely what the kids needed most. “I am so sorry, I don’t know anything about the family. I’m here about the dog and—”

  “Buddy? What about Buddy?” The little girl with pink lacy socks was now kicking hard, trying to get down on the ground. She seemed—sickly? Pale face and dark circles under the eyes. Mina couldn’t recall seeing that in little kids, usually those were signs of lack of sleep in adults. Then again, she was no child expert.

  “Oh, is this Buddy?” Mina pulled up the pic of Aspen that Sky had taken with her phone and showed it to the woman. Did she recoil?

  “Yes, that’s him. Nice dog. Where did you get this picture?” She glanced at the idling silver car then at Mina still holding the phone. She opened her mouth—to say something? Must have changed her mind. Her face morphed into a blank expression. The kid yanked the mother’s hair with all her might, determined to get her attention, and then she saw the photo and mumbled something like, “Nice doggie.”

  “Buddy here was found wandering the streets.
He is safe at the shelter, our shelter, where Mrs. Cordero originally had adopted him. I’m trying to reunite the pet with his rightful owners. I…” Mina ran out of words, a rather unusual phenomenon.

  “Do you have a phone number? I need to feed my kid before she pulls out what hair I have left, but I can try to locate Simon. He’s the oldest boy.”

  Mina nodded. “I’ll be right back.” She went to get a business card from her car. “Here, this is my direct line don’t hesitate to call me, regardless of the time. I mean it.”

  The woman didn’t seem to hear her; she took the business card. The shaking of the hand was hard to miss. “Yeah, I remember now. She got the dog for half price because of some television commercial. So, you’re the owner? Good for you. When my little brat here is old enough we’ll pay you a visit, and maybe we'll get us a nice doggie, a white one. I like white and… stop it, Lizabeth. Sorry, got to go, but I’ll call you… Ms. Calvi?”

  “Mina, call me Mina, and when you’re ready we’ll find you the very best fluffy white doggie. I promise.” She promised to the woman’s back and realized she didn’t even know her name or phone number.

  Mina drove away slowly, very slowly, half wishing the young mother would come running after her to share real info like her name or where Isabel Cordero's kids were. How could she have failed so miserably? Why hadn’t she asked how Cordero died? Or when? Anything? Why drive all the way here and then get stumped because of some kid’s dark circles. Maybe the child had allergies. That would explain the sucking sounds.

  Right now the sensible thing to do was to drive home, feed her cats, find out if Tom and his pals would come over and paint her cat-boarding facilities before Millie came back and wondered why nothing had gotten done. Then she could sit at her computer and try to find out a little about the life and death of Isabel Cordero.

  If only Kalinda had been home, she would dig out every little piece of info on the woman—from birth to death. Kalinda was a wiz when it came to computers. Well, all right, that was her profession, but she did it with such enthusiasm. The deeper she had to dig, the more excited she became. When her cell chimed Mina jumped on her driver's seat, totally oblivious of her surroundings.

  “De Fiore? This is spooky, I was thinking about Kalinda and how great she is at digging up people’s info, and you call. You’re next in line when it comes to digging up people’s info.”

  “Hey, only because she works with live ones. I dig up the dead ones. Much harder.”

  “True, true. The one I’m interested in happens to be dead.”

  “Wait a minute. I called to see you if you can ask your gardener to trim Kalinda’s out of control vegetation, and you’re wanting me to dig up dirt on dead people? Who died?”

  “Huh. Isabel... Isabel Cordero is—was—her name and—”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you? Who was she? And why do you care?”

  “It’s complicated. I’m on my way home. Do you want to stop by for a drink?”

  “Mina, I just passed Nellie Gail Ranch, I’ve been up twenty-four hours. Tell me the name again. How did she die? Suspicious circumstances?”

  “I tell you what, De Fiore. We keep on driving, and I share what I know. Then the first one to arrive home says good-bye to the other, and that’s it. Oh, I will talk to the gardener. He’s coming Thursday. And after you get some sleep, wake up relaxed, you can tell me how Kalinda is doing.”

  “Deal. Talk, kiddo, I’m listening.”

  She told him what little she had, ending with, “The neighbor promised to try to locate the older boy and have him call me.”

  “So? People die every day. That’s what happens to people. Didn’t you ask the neighbor how Cordero died?”

  “I got sidetracked by the kid. She looked... sick.”

  “Who looked sick? Are you implying child abuse?”

  “No, no, not that. I don’t know what I’m implying. The whole thing was… I can’t explain. It’s not what was said, it's what wasn’t…”

  “Kid, I don’t like your tone of voice. You sound that way when you’re about to go stick your nose into other people business. As soon as I get to the office in the morning, I’ll run a quick search. That is if you promise to stay out of trouble. You know what I mean. Clear your mind, and let me check. If something isn’t as it should be, we can revisit the conversation. Okay?’

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Because you’re too tired. Go home, and call me in the morning. I’ll get you an estimate from the gardener. Ciao.” She clicked off without giving the detective time to reply. Life was short—she was going to look up San Clemente obituaries on her own.

  Sundown wasn’t just a word—it was a fact. Most of her weekdays ended at sundown when she would be driving home after a workday well spent. None of that applied this evening. She hadn’t accomplished a thing regarding Aspen, and going back home meant being the mistress of a silent, dark house as the occasional meowing of cats hardly made up for the lack of human sounds.

  Kalinda was in rehab somewhere in the vast state of Texas. Millie, her co-worker and trusted confidant, was on vacation, location undisclosed. Hmm! And as for her former roommate, Margo, she was blissfully spending her days helping Gino, the love of her life, run a restaurant in Long Beach and being the perfect Italian lover by night. In reality, Mina was driving home to her two cats plus one feline guest. Whoopee. Who could ask for more? Maybe, just maybe, Diego would call. By the time she reached her slice of paradise atop the low hill, the sun had set, and it was too dark to go poke around Kalinda’s yard to check the growth of her vegetation. It could wait until morning. Mina clicked the gate’s opener and drove into her dark but safe harbor.

  FOUR

  TUESDAY MORNING…

  The need to keep on moving had nothing to do with getting things done. Mina recognized the symptoms.

  Diego hadn’t called in four days. Something wasn’t right.

  “I bet he’s only a phone call away.” De Fiore had said. If only he knew that she never once called Diego. Sort of a mental block. Always waiting for his calls. Wanting to feel needed, missed. Maybe the time had come to actually call him. He probably wasn’t at his office now. What time would it be in Italy? If he were in Italy.

  Okay, she could call him in the evening—the way he did, around nine, when all was quiet, and only the sounds of crickets spoiled the silence surrounding her home.

  Why wasn’t he calling? Could he be sick? Gino. She didn’t like to get Gino involved, but she would tonight. The man was the only direct connection available. He had to know where Diego was. She set the stack of paperwork on the passenger seat of her LTD. Might as well go take a look at Kalinda’s house and see if De Fiore’s concern was justified. The cats had been fed and accounted for, well except for Houdini, as usual. Houdini and Diego, they stole her heart and often her peace of mind.

  Instead of driving to Kalinda’s on her way to work, she opted for the back way, a pleasant walk through a hardly used path shielded between the homes. The old, rusty gate groaned and resisted, but she finally pried it open. Maybe she could ask Tom and his buddies to take a look at that too. Once she crossed the threshold it was like stepping into nature. Weeds and wild mustard marked the sides of the narrow trail. The recent rains had left specks of yellow petals scattered over the ground. Pebbles skittered under her heels; the air smelled clean. A flashback of the first time Diego held her sneaked up on her

  “You smell of rain,” he had said. Seemed like a lifetime away.

  Oh, Diego, I miss you.

  As soon as Mina cleared the bend she could see what De Fiore had meant. Indeed the vegetation around the front of Kalinda’s house looked more like a mini forest than the manicured landscape that had been so carefully designed to fool the eyes into assuming it was nature’s work at its best.

  The house, the last one in the vast cul de sac, sat back from the road, and the main entrance was to the side, the one facing the back wa
ll of the Ritzy Cats B&B. Kalinda’s place was lower than Mina’s at the top the hill. At the time Kalinda had purchased the one-story structure, it had seemed like the perfect fit for Kalinda’s wheel chair, and Mina had no clue as to what improvements to Kalinda’s everyday life the new prosthetics would bring.

  She stood at the edge of the driveway, no need to go any closer to know that the gardener’s service was a must. And then that sense of dread dropped on her. Someone was watching—she just knew it, sensed it. Yet nothing had moved or changed.

  A large oleander bush shook, and Mina jumped back in time to see a black bird fly out of it. She sighed in relief. Enough already. She walked back to her car and headed to the office. A place where she didn’t seem to think about Diego so much, possibly because he had never been there.

  De Fiore called just as she backed out of her garage.

  “Well, Isabel Cordero’s death was unusual but not nefarious.” Straight to the point, as usual. “Can’t say I’m surprised, anything suspicious would have landed on my desk. And she died on December 28th, on her way to work.” He waited. “Kalinda is doing well, hopes to be home in about six weeks and sends you love. Are we good?”

  “Oh, no. Not so fast, Mr. Detective. I could have found that info on my own on Google if I hadn’t fallen asleep watching the news… how did she die?”

  A long sigh. “Run over by a car and before you start hyperventilating—by her own car. And yes, she was driving it. And no, I’m not playing silly games with you. There is a simple explanation. Care to listen? I’ll make it quick, the time it takes me to drink my coffee, and then I have a meeting about a really nefarious death.”