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

  “How does one run over oneself with…”

  “Shush. Wasting precious minutes.”

  Mina shut up.

  “Here we go, wait—Cordero—Caucasian, female, 38 was found on the morning of December 28 in the parking lot of the Ole Hansen Beach Club by the groundkeepers. The authorities were called, and a quick investigation concluded that Cordero had been dead for a few hours, apparently she got out of her car to check on a flat tire, front passenger side, the driver door was wide open and all her belongings accounted for. She stopped the car on an incline, and it appeared to have rolled, striking her. She fell backward and hit her head. Her body wasn’t visible from the street, possibly the reason she wasn’t found earlier. She was on her way to work at the coffee shop just up Bocca De La Playa. Her boss was interviewed, said she was an excellent, dependable worker, and it had been her turn to open that morning. They also interviewed friends and neighbors. Apparently everyone had nice things to say about her, and they all agreed that her car was a piece of junk. Sorry, kid, I’ve got to run. Whatever questions you have burning your tongue, suck on a piece of ice until this afternoon when I can return your calls.” And he was gone.

  Mina was too stunned to even think. The honking of the car behind her snapped her out of her stupor and through the intersection where she hadn’t budged in spite of the green light. She drove at a snail's pace, trying to make sense of the load of information De Fiore had just dumped on her. Not that she doubted him, like he had pointed out, it was his job to look into anything suspicious, and he took his job personally.

  How come he didn’t mention Isabel Cordero’s kids? Or any other family member? Maybe because the kids were underage? Best thing to do was to jot down her questions and ask him later, like he suggested. Yes, she would call her landscaper and get a quote for Kalinda’s yard, and that would be a great excuse to get De Fiore on the phone. Perfect. She stepped on the gas and headed for the shelter.

  Tuesday at the shelter was known as procrastination day. Leigh had come up with the concept, and it was accurate. Many people would see the adoptable dogs and cats on the weekend when they were out shopping at malls or at pets stores where the volunteers had adoption spots set up with lots of cute puppies sporting I'm available bandannas and kittens chasing colorful balls of twine. All such sites were designed to attract attention and pull at the heartstrings. But people had millions of excuses not to act on impulse, so the next best thing was to send them home with an adoption package. And often the procrastinators would show up on Tuesday with the form completed, ready to take a more close up and personal look at their future four-paws family member.

  Leigh sat at the front desk, answering the phone and setting up appointments for the prospects. Linda, the best closer, would take over once a pet had been chosen. As for Mina, she spent most of her time organizing new ways of taking the pets to the public instead of waiting to be discovered, and Sky, even if so young, was terrific with her camera and with the Internet.

  “How is everything?” Mina asked, her arms full of all those files she would have to organize before meeting with Adams, her lawyer and father figure, and the new accountant he was so fond of. “How’s Aspen/Buddy?” she asked.

  “Calm, but sad.” Was Sky’s answer.

  Linda stuck her head out of the cats’ room. “Tom offered to take him home, sort of fostering if you will.”

  “You think it’s a good idea? What if he gets attached and Cordero’s son shows up asking for his dog? It would be such a disappointment. By the way, Tom didn’t call last night.”

  “Yeah, he wanted to make sure he had enough friends helping out before making promises. Here.” Linda pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “He left this scotch-taped to the front door.”

  “We can be at your place this afternoon after four, start getting the rooms ready, and get the sample of the paint you need. Then we’ll come back and paint tomorrow, Wednesday. Here is my phone #. Let me know if it works for you. Tom.” He'd added his number at the bottom.

  “This is great. Did you read it, Linda?”

  “I did,” Linda answered from the cats' room. “Feel better?”

  “Oh, yes. Owe you one.”

  “Good we can do dinner after Millie’s back. When is that?”

  “Saturday. I tell you, it has been a long time since I felt so lonely. Suddenly both Millie and Kalinda are gone, and I’m left with the three cats. I’m beginning to see monsters.”

  “Under the bed?” Leigh laughed from her front desk.

  “No, from Kalinda’s place. You would too if you had to walk through the forest that her yard has become. That reminds me‚ I need to call the gardener. Leigh, I’ll be in the back office if you need me.” She stopped by the room where they kept Buddy in makeshift isolation until they'd determined he wasn’t a threat to the rest of the canine residents.

  The dog raised his head and must have recognized her because his ears perked up, and she saw a ray of hope in his sad eyes.

  “Hi, Buddy, how are you? Your paw feeling better?" She petted his head, checked to make sure he had plenty of water and comfy blankets to lie on.

  “Hey Mina,” Leigh called. “Sky is on the phone. She needs to talk to you.”

  Sky?

  “Coming.” She turned to Buddy. ”Fingers crossed, we may have found your owner.” She rushed to answer.

  “I found him.” The enthusiasm in Sky’s voice was hard to miss.

  “You found the owner? That’s terrific. Did you tell him we have his dog?”

  “No, I didn’t talk to him. I posted Buddy’s pic on Facebook, and this morning a friend called and said he was pretty sure the dog belonged to Simon, a senior at San Clemente High. He said something about Simon’s mom dying a few months ago. Is that true?”

  “Yes, yes, it is. Good job Sky, so did you get Simon’s phone number? How can I get in touch with him?”

  “Huh, don’t know. I never really asked.”

  “That’s okay, I can drive over to the school and ask to see him, right?”

  “I guess so, but school is in recess until next week. Remember? Spring break?”

  “Right. Seems like this poor pooch isn’t catching a break, is he? I tell you what. You see if you can get more info from the Facebook friend, and I may pay another visit to the neighbor. She’s bound to know where this Simon lives.”

  The bell above the front door chimed, and by Leigh’s tone of voice Mina knew they had someone ready to give a good home to one of the pets.

  By two she was so tired of paperwork she gave herself a break by taking turns with a volunteer folding blankets and taking dogs for walks. She tried to reach De Fiore twice without luck. She finally left him a voicemail regarding the estimate for Kalinda’s yard. In spite of all her best intentions, the tax papers were making her sleepy instead of productive, and she was glad to have to meet Tom at the house by four. Great excuse to put the paperwork aside. By the time she left, one cat and two dogs had found their forever homes. A good day after all.

  FIVE

  TOM AND HIS band of fellow retirees had left hours ago. They'd arrived, all piled in a Cadillac Escalade, hardly the type of transportation Mina envisioned anyone who was accepting painting for such low wages could afford. And they had seemed to be in perfect sync, measuring, moving furniture, taping edges, and collecting the samples Millie had smartly pinned to the corresponding walls.

  It was all jokes and good humor, like a big party.

  She'd handed Tom the keys and a cash advance for the paint, they'd left, promising they’d be back sometime in the morning, and she knew they would. That was a good feeling. But even good feelings only lasted so long.

  Nine o’clock. The numbers on her digital clock the only bright spot in her dark bedroom.

  To call or not to call?

  She paced by the window, gazing into the inky sky. Black clouds ran across the slit from where a pale moon attempted a failed escape.

  To call or not to call? />
  When the phone rang her soul soared, then plummeted. It wasn’t his phone, but her landline. Mina dragged herself away from the window. “Hello.”

  “He’s going to Greece. Tonight.” A rumble in her ears.

  “Margo? Calm down. Who’s going to Greece? What are you talking about?” Margo’s dramas often amounted to small hiccups in her relationships, even when she screamed and hollered like now.

  “Like you didn’t know. It’s all his fault—that boyfriend of yours. And it’s always a last minute decision, no, last minute command and—"

  “First, his name is Diego. Diego Moran. And he happens to work with Gino, your live-in boyfriend. So no, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She kept her tone even while her heart bounced in her chest.

  Greece? Nadya Veggos, the heiress from hell, was in Greece. That would explain his silence. He must have grown tired of asking Mina to go on vacation with him and found Nadya ready and willing. She probably offered him her villa on some sandy beach. After all he had once been her "darling."

  “Mina? Mina, are you even listening?” Margo’s high pitch brought her back to the gloomy present.

  “I’m listening, and I don’t have an answer. What about the restaurant? Who’s going to be running it while Gino’s gone?”

  “Oh, that. His assistant, Vito, he has been working the kitchen two days a week already. I don’t give a damn about the restaurant. I should have been invited to go to Greece instead of staying home to work. Are you going?”

  “Me? Nooo. I told you, I know nothing about this. Must be business.”

  “What kind of business? The boss called around noon, and my Gino is packing all his fancy Italian suits and ties, and he’s not is usual self. Whatever it is, they obviously don’t want us girls around. What are you going to do about it?”

  She fought the knot stifling her breathing. “What I usually do, go to sleep. We can talk tomorrow, maybe you’ll have a better idea about the situation.” She heard a male voice in the background asking, “Margo, who are you talking to?”

  “It’s Gino. Got to go. Don’t tell him I called you or he’ll think I don’t trust him—coming Gino, coming.” And she was gone.

  The call wasn’t that unusual. Margo would phone just to vent. Except this time it wasn’t Margo’s generic whining—this time the complaint was specific. Gino was traveling to Greece—in a great hurry, and she wasn’t invited.

  If Diego was planning a vacation in Greece with Nadya, why would he need Gino? While the man had many qualities and talents, bodyguard wasn’t one of them. For starters his prosthesis somewhat limited his walking, and then Gino spent his days running a smooth restaurant business. Whatever the reason, it would make sense to assume it had more to do with Gino’s brainpower than body strength. Unless Diego needed a very special chef for their dining pleasure.

  Once again, images of moonlight shimmering on the Mediterranean Sea and soft guitars playing in the background…

  Stop it, Mina.

  One didn’t need to travel to California to find a good chef, plenty of them in any resort town. Except… Gino would be very discreet. After all, Diego was his direct superior.

  Dio Mio. Margo had nothing on her when it came to mistrust. She pitched the phone onto her bed and heard the cats stirring in the dark. What was wrong with her? She could have hit one of them. Maybe she had.

  Moonlight fought and lost, leaving the sky as dark as her mood. She rested her forehead on the windowpane, letting the coolness soothe her skin. Nothing could soothe her broken heart. An arbitrary tear rolled from her eye, landing on her hand.

  Enough.

  She turned to go to bed when in the corner of her eye, she noticed a light moving around in—Kalinda’s house? Impossible. It lasted the length of a blink, and it was gone. Mina couldn’t budge, remembering that strange morning feeling of being watched. If only Millie had been home.

  Too frightened to move. Maybe she should call—who? Her friends and co-workers all lived miles away. She’d grown accustomed to having Millie so close… and later Kalinda.

  Mina kept her eyes on the spot where she thought she’d seen the moving light. A flashlight perhaps? It could have been some teenagers walking around in the dark. No. The movement was too contained. Slowly her breathing relaxed, she willed herself away from the window.

  In the dark she moved toward the bed when her doorbell chimed. Once, loud and precise. And now her shaking was real and unstoppable. The stranger with the flashlight was at her door. Maybe if she stood still the stranger would go away. The bell chimed again.

  This time whoever was at her door kept a finger on the button a lot longer. She had to do something. Call 9-1-1? Where was her phone? Somewhere on the bed, among her cats. She must find her phone. She took a step and the pounding began. Someone pounded on her door.

  Okay then, she wasn’t going to wait for the door to be forced open. She descended the stairs, turning all the lights on as she walked by heading to the kitchen where she could get a knife. The mental picture of stabbing someone stopped her. Aware she couldn’t do it.

  Before clearing the corner to the entrance she called out “Who’s there?”

  Silence. No more pounding or bell ringing. Only silence.

  “Diego.” A muffled voice came from outside. Diego? How could that be?

  “If you’re Diego, how about you call me on our phone?”

  Long pause. “I can’t.”

  “Of course you can’t because you’re not Diego.” Keeping her voice calm took all her concentration. She held her breath and listen. Hoping for a word, something to get her to believe in the miracle of Diego there and then, to take her in his arms and tell her all was going to be okay.

  Instead she could hear a soft chuckling behind the locked door. Diego or not, the man was laughing at her. Laughing. Her fear turned into anger as she searched for a chair, a table, something to anchor against the door. Too late, she watched the doorknob turn and—Diego.

  An unexpected sob escaped her as she offered her arms and her soul to him. Houdini picked that very moment to get in the middle, and she stumbled, landing into Diego’s embrace. He caught and held her. His right foot kicked the front door shut on a disappointed meow.

  “It’s you. Why didn’t you call?”

  Diego’s lips rested in her hair, his fingers moved up her spine to the nape of her neck and paused, igniting the ever smoldering fire, allowing her nostrils to fill with his familiar scent. Her arms tightened around him. The safest place on earth, against his heart. No words needed, her eyes closed. She savored the wave of tender surrender fully aware it wouldn’t last. Her face felt the unusual crispness of the fabric rubbing against her cheek. She backed a little and noticed the starchy formal shirt, the dark silk tie, and the soft wooly suit.

  Something felt out of place.

  “Are you staying?” She slipped it there, an arousing dare, and waited.

  “Mina,” a long sigh, “I can’t. It’s morning in Greece. The wake will be in the afternoon, I must be there.”

  The wake? As in a funeral? She couldn’t find the right words, any words. They all died in her throat. She kept her hands on his chest, over his heartbeat. They hadn’t even kissed, and he was leaving? He must have read the pain in her eyes.

  His eyes looked tired, spent. “I came to pick up Gino, a reasonable excuse to steal a few moments with you.” A shadow clouded his face, “She was like a mother to me. My mentor, my trusted confidant. You would have loved her, and she liked you a lot.” He attempted a smile. “I spoke of you, often. She also helped Gino after his accident, gave him back his self respect.”

  And Mina understood who he was talking about. La Madonna delle Collane, The Madonna of String Pearls, as Gino affectionately called her. Mina had only met the powerful woman once, long ago, the very night Kalinda had lost her limbs in the bloody murder plot.

  She shook her head to clear the sadness away. Now it made sense, and she should be thankful for the stole
n moments. She should. “Diego, I am so sorry. How did you get here? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “We flew into Long Beach airport, and I drove straight here. They are picking me up at John Wayne airport. It’s a private plane. We’ll be okay. Oh, the phone. How could I forget? Mina, the one you have no longer works. Bad stuff happened. Days ago. With all that was going on in Greece, I got sidetracked, but that phone no longer works. Wait, here.” He searched the inside pocket of his formal coat and handed her a cell phone. “This is a new prototype, far superior, you know the drill, more so now, keep it close? Don’t hesitate to call me. By the way, I was concerned Millie would mistake me for a prowler and shoot me.” He smiled and kissed her lightly.

  She held the new phone in her hand, not quite sure what to make of it. “Millie isn’t here, she’ll be back on Saturday.” In spite of her efforts, her voice quivered, like her soul.

  “Oh, now I get it, all your concerns about opening the door.”—his lighthearted tone as forced as hers. “You were so cute, if only I could have recorded your voice… you’re not Diego.” Something buzzed in his coat. He turned serious; his eyes darkened. “I’ve got to go; they are ready. I’m so sorry. Hope to fly back with Gino, but will call first.”

  They stood, their shoulders touching, rising and falling to the rhythm of their breath. Diego cupped her face and they kissed. Once again Mina was jolted by a sense of imminent loss she couldn’t fathom or ignore. She moved back, gave him space to move, and walked him to the door from where she watched his dark shadow disappear as he effortlessly hopped over the locked front gate.

  He was going to Greece for a funeral.

  The funeral of his former boss, whose favorite niece was none other than Nadya Veggos.

  SIX

  MINA WOKE TO the soft kneading of Aria’s paws on her neck. A rather unusual event as Houdini had promoted himself to morning pain in the neck since day one. What time was it? Barely seven a.m. She tried to figure out what time it would be in Greece, even counted on her fingers, gave that up when she heard a scurrying of paws up and down the stairs.