Ashes of Autumn (Mina's Adventures Book 4) Page 8

  “The one I’m telling you about is in Laguna Hills, and I know two students who graduated from there who couldn’t be happier. As a matter of fact, you should remember one of them. She worked for West Coast Software, Elena, remember?”

  “Yes, she used to clean the place. I remember her very well. How is she doing?”

  “Pretty good, she works in a salon at the mall and is engaged to be married next spring. Everyone’s getting married but me.” Margo shut off the dryer and stared into the bathroom mirror.

  Mina searched for something cheerful to say but came up empty. She sighed in unison with her roommate. The ringing of the phone interrupted the bonding moment. Margo jumped up first and went to answer.

  “Ya.” Her tone so blunt it should discourage the most determined telemarketer. “Oh.” The sudden change in Margo’s voice confounded Mina. Who was she talking to?

  “Oh, come on now, Detective De Fiore.” She winked at Mina. “You know me, always ready to have fun. Yes, I understand. She’s right here, but you’ll have to convince her.”

  Mina shook her head and frowned. Whatever it was De Fiore wanted her to do, she wouldn’t. “No,” she mouthed.

  Margo continued her performance as if Mina were invisible. “You don’t say? Fifteen minutes? No, you don’t want to talk to her because you’re a chicken. I’ll explain it, but you owe me big.” She put the phone back on the cradle. “Guess what? We are taking a ride in a cop car.”

  “Correction, You are taking a ride in a cop’s car, and I hope they take you someplace for a very long time.” She stormed out of Margo’s room.

  A few minutes went by and sure enough, there was Margo, pleading. “It’s our civic duty. They need our help.”

  “To do what? Make coffee? Go away, Margo.”

  “I’m serious. Steve Madrid is in town. They need us to look at some pics to help them identify some of the bad people up at the mountain house, remember?”

  Pictures? Of people up at the mountain house? Would Diego be one of them? She never had a picture of him…she drummed her fingers on the nightstand ignoring the beat of her own heart. “Okay, let me freshen up.”

  Hope never dies.

  “You’re coming?” relief and giddiness in Margo’s voice. “Great, Danny Boy will be so happy.” She was back to Danny Boy.

  De Fiore picked them up by the gate in his black Ford. His tie was clipped with tiny replicas of Italy’s most notorious tourists attractions: the Leaning Tower of Pisa, a gondola, the Coliseum…really? Their eyes met, and he winked. She shrugged and sat in the back, Margo had already made herself at home up front.

  “What’s this story about looking at pictures?” Mina asked.

  “Looking at pictures, that has a good ring to it. Must remember to use it next time I drag some sorry ass to central for identification purposes.” He turned to look at her and must have noticed Margo’s hair for the first time, “Holy sh…Margo, what happened to you–to your hair?”

  “You like?” Totally oblivious to negativity, Margo raised her hands to fluff her hair and preened like a proud peacock.

  Being a wise man he didn’t answer, instead he latched his safety belt then shifted gears.

  Mina remembered De Fiore’s office from a few years back when she was there with Adams. Not much had changed, but they didn’t stay in his office. He escorted them to a larger room with bright lights and uncomfortable chairs. He played host, offering sodas or coffee while they waited for Steve Madrid who was running late due to traffic on the 5 South.

  None of them seemed prone to chatting, and it felt like collective relief when Steve Madrid showed up. He went right to business, pulling a large manila envelope from his brief case and spreading out some photos on the large table. Nothing at all like the cop shows on television, no books with mug shot after mug shot of convicted felons. These were pictures of regular people doing everyday stuff. Some seemed fuzzy…off focus. Taken from far away without the subject’s knowledge?

  “Okay, ladies, help yourself. Anyone you think you recognize, please pull the photo aside.”

  Mina trembled at the thought of seeing Diego’s picture. What if he was with the long-haired woman? Surely everyone would see the shaking of her hands. She sensed the men’s eyes on her. Margo, unaware of her friend’s inner drama, slid a picture away from the bunch. Mina forced herself not to look.

  “Miss Calvi,” Steve Madrid sounded pretty official, “not all the people in the photos are bad people. We are trying to establish who was there for sure, and who wasn’t.”

  She stared at him for the longest time. The room was so quiet even Margo must have figured something was going on. “Mr. Madrid, Margo and I were inside that house, what? Twenty minutes tops. I never left the main room. Margo visited a bathroom. We didn’t step outside to the pool area where all the action appeared to take place, and you are counting on our ability to recognize the people who were on the premises that day. Really?” Without hesitation she assembled all the pictures scattered on the table, including the one Margo had pulled out, moved them up close to her, and quickly fingered through them. She called the name as she picked out the photos and slid them to Steve Madrid. “Surowiec. The doorman, don’t know his name. This blonde is the owner of Luce, the poodle.”

  “Amanda.” Margo said.

  “Amanda–right. Thanks Margo.” She kept fingering, quickly, her eyes focused, her heart pounding. Once she was done she pushed the stack away and looked straight at Madrid. “Will there be anything else?” Her voice felt heavy with disappointment for not finding his picture, and seething with anger for feeling disappointed. She stood, defiant, ready to leave, but then remembered they drove in De Fiore’s car. Damn. Her eyes darted from one man to the other. She wasn’t going to sit down. De Fiore must have gotten the message. He stood also, a shadow of a smile directed at her. He knew something, what?

  They studied each other, then De Fiore said, “Hey kid, let me show you some pictures a friend sent me from Venice, that’s your home isn’t it?” Somewhere deep inside she knew he was passing along a mental note to Madrid because before they were out the door she heard Madrid and Margo talking about–dancing competitions. Smooth, De Fiore, really smooth.

  He walked her to his office. She went willingly, anxious to find out what he knew that she didn’t know about the photos, the people, and the house up the mountain. All the time aware there must be something he wanted from her. He sat behind his desk. She sat opposite. He went right to it, probably pressed for time. “You saw something or someone in those pictures. I could tell. You wear your emotions on your face. Who was it?” He waited, perfectly still, seemingly relaxed.

  “What do you care?”

  He sighed and slid further back in his chair. “Look, let’s be clear. I have nothing to do with this, way out of my job description. I would not be here playing good cop if not for you two getting your picture taken up in that house. It gets better. You were the last outsiders to visit before the botched raid.”

  “The last?” She had to let that sink in. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because the Feds have all the recordings and the images from all the cameras, and that’s how I got the call. Margo’s license plate, the fact that your name appeared in some of my cases and–I assume–your friendship with some unnamed person. I’m to be the facilitator. That’s all I am. So don’t stare at me like I’m the Anti-Christ. I don’t like this any more than you do. Look, kid, give them some credit. You show up there, and three days later an investigation that had been going on for over a year takes a tumble. Somehow the bad guys got tipped off and were able to disappear before the totally unprepared cavalry came rushing in trying to save the day. So, spit it out. Who else did you recognize? And by the way, Madrid made sure you know whose photo wasn’t there. He isn’t a bad person, he is doing his job.” A long sigh, then he waited.

  She bit her lips. She didn’t want De Fiore to see them quiver. Was that even possible? She caused that disaster? Maybe Diego go
t in trouble because of her and that’s why…People died. Bad people escaped. Why? No wonder Diego wanted to get away from her..oh, Diego. “The–girl.” She raised her arm above her head to signify tall. She didn’t trust herself not to get too emotional.

  “A tall girl?” He sounded puzzled.

  “They kissed by the pool.” She bowed her head and bit her lips until she tasted blood.

  “You mean–you saw him kiss a tall girl, and they were by the pool. Where were you?” He figured out she wasn’t going to talk. “Were you in the room with Surowiec?”

  She nodded.

  “The two of you are in the, let’s call it living room and looking at the pool, from the window.”

  More nodding.

  “And you recognize him, and he is kissing a tall girl. Yes?”

  A whisper. “Yes.”

  “Did he see you?”

  She shrugged.

  “He probably did, but it doesn’t matter because Surowiec had a front row seat to your emotional breakdown. Crap. Don’t know how your friend made it out alive. He must have seven lives, although by now he may be down to a lot less. Can’t blame him for staying clear of you…” He stopped himself. “Sorry, didn’t mean it that way. You’re a good person except all your good intentions seem to backfire. Mina, I’m not saying it was your fault. Every possibility is being carefully examined, you may or may not fit into the larger picture. You know cops, they do things by the book, so you ended up on the list...”

  “The list? What list?”

  “I don’t know if they keep lists. It’s an expression. Relax. But yeah, they have to make sure you are not the one who tipped off Surowiec.”

  “Are they… you know…was it Madrid’s people who bugged my phone?”

  He looked at her, tapped his palm on his desk. “Forgot about that. No, it wasn’t them. I would have known. I’m sure that was from the Surowiec clan. Girl, you got troubles. I assume they hope you lead them to him. I hear there is a big chunk of cash on his head. They are either working directly for Surowiec or moonlighting as bounty hunters and counting on you to show the way to their pot of gold.”

  All she heard was the big chunk of cash. Someone wanted Diego bad enough to pay a lot of money to find him? She stared at De Fiore, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the statement. That was the kind of stuff mystery books were full of, not real life people like her and…who was she kidding? That was exactly what Diego’s life was made of. It puzzled her that during the whole exchange, De Fiore never mentioned Diego’s name. Was someone listening to their conversation, or did he sense how the name alone could send her into a meltdown?

  “You okay? Should we go get Margo? I’ll talk to Madrid. By now he should have figured out you won’t hurt a fly. Unless the unfortunate fly lands on the chair you’re about to sit on.” He chuckled, satisfied with his assessment.

  CHAPTER 12

  The mood on the way back wasn’t quite as filled with uplifting expectations as the ride there. Wasn’t that the way it always turned out? Mina revisited in her mind the seemingly insignificant remarks De Fiore dropped here and there about Diego. What was it he said? Can’t blame him from staying clear of you…It wasn’t a guess. It was a statement. He had to know what happened. Somehow she couldn’t picture Diego sharing with De Fiore that he would break up with her, just not his style. Stop it.

  Maybe Steve Madrid also knew about it and assumed she betrayed Diego as revenge? That made no sense. He broke up with her after the raid.

  “Hey, Mina, so where is this house that you’re buying? Newport Beach?” De Fiore said.

  “No, I’m not exactly Newport Beach material. I found a fixer, that’s what my Realtor calls it, in Laguna Canyon, and–”

  “Laguna Canyon? Would never figure you for a hippie loving crowd.”

  “A hippie what?”

  “I guess I’m dating myself. I keep forgetting you must have been a little tot living in Italy during the Christmas of Love at Laguna Canyon back in ‘70. I was a teenager myself.” He sounded very pleased with himself and a little nostalgic. “Today’s closest thing to hippies are artists, and there are plenty of them in the Canyon. What made you pick that location?”

  Mina shrugged, forcing herself to ignore the real reason behind her initial enthusiasm. “I explained to Kathy, my Realtor, about the things I’d like to have, and she gave me a list of houses. Well, something about that little cute run-down cottage just caught my eye. And Adams thinks it’s a good investment.”

  “I’m considering moving myself. I’m a bit tired of condo living. I think I’m ready to try a small house. Not sure I’d be happy in Laguna Canyon though. Maybe I should talk to this Realtor of yours, Kathy you say? Does Kathy have a last name? I prefer to do business with professionals not connected to my work.”

  “I have her business card in my car. When we get to the parking lot I’ll get it, and you can call her yourself. By the way, are we done with Steve Madrid’s gimmicks?”

  “Hey, watch it.” Margo had been so quiet Mina sort of forgot about her presence.

  De Fiore laughed. “Apparently Madrid has a devoted supporter in the car.” But he never answered Mina’s question.

  By the time they entered the gated complex the sun had set, and all the outdoor lights were lit. De Fiore stopped his car behind Mina’s Volkswagen and waited for her to get Kathy’s business card. Mina tried to figure out if De Fiore and Kathy were about the same age. Two nice people, both single, no kids. What happened? She went from broken heart to matchmaker? She was so lost in her match-making fantasy she fumbled and dropped her car key.

  “Damn.”

  De Fiore got out of the car. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I dropped my car key and it fell under the car.” She squatted down and easily retrieved the key, the key Diego had replaced for her. Clear your mind, Mina.

  “Don’t you have a push button key fob?”

  “Come on, you know my car is from 1978, almost a classic. Where would I get a push button key, and what good would it do me?”

  “Can you see what you’re doing at least?” De Fiore stepped closer to her parking space.

  “She can see just fine.” Now Margo was out of the Ford, stretching her arms up in the air. Like their own little private party in the parking lot. Thank God there wasn’t anyone around, plus, they could be as loud as they wanted to be, the cop was on their side. Mina unlocked the car door and crawled over the driver’s seat to get to the glove compartment for Kathy’s card. Eww, she should take a ride in the morning with the windows open, the car had been sitting there too long it reeked of…she backed out of the car, a look of disgust on her face.

  “What now?” De Fiore was right by her side.

  “N-o-t-h-i-n-g. Here is Kathy’s business card. She’s a very nice–single lady.”

  His laugh told her a lot more that any comment could. Oh, well, she tried. “You and that Madrid cop have me so psyched out I thought I smelled tobacco in my car. Imagine that. I’m becoming paranoid. Make sure to let Kathy know…” She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. De Fiore lifted her and moved her away from her car. “Hey, are you nuts?” She elbowed him.

  “You smelled tobacco, didn’t you? Don’t touch the car. Give me the key. Remember the last time you smelled tobacco? Someone bugged your house phone.”

  “Oh, you think they bugged my car phone?”

  “No.” De Fiore, still holding the Bug’s key in his hand, pulled out his own cell phone and moved a few steps away from Margo and Mina.

  Who was he talking to? “Margo, you think he’s talking to your buddy? Madrid?”

  “How can he be my buddy? He’s married. Are you mocking me?”

  “Why would I be mocking you? You can’t be friends with a married person?”

  “We aren’t discussing just any married person. We are discussing Steve Madrid, a terrific dancer and very nice person, and of course, as always, a married man.” She let out a long sigh. De Fiore was still tal
king on his mobile phone, his back to them.

  “What’s up with him? I’m tired, and I can use some food, Let’s go, Mina. He knows where to find us.” They headed toward the townhouse.

  “Hey, where are you two going?” What? He had eyes on the back of the head? “Don’t go anywhere, wait. Better yet, let me park my car, and you two sit in there and wait.”

  “Wait? Wait for what?” Margo sounded pretty ticked off. Ticked off at Danny Boy? Mina found that very funny. She must be really hungry. Meanwhile the detective was just yacking away, if she could just hear whom he was talking to. Finally he pocketed the phone and came back to his car. “Okay ladies, get in the back, please. Thanks.” He said thanks before they even had a chance to actually get into the idling Ford. What got into him?

  He didn’t look very happy at all. As soon as they closed the doors he moved the car to a guest parking space smack under a light. “We are waiting for the–for some of the guys to get here and take a look at your car. Mina.”

  “Why?” Mina and Margo asked at the same time.

  He spoke to them while sitting behind the wheel, looking at them via the rearview mirror. It was hard to guess his expression. “It may be nothing, just extra precaution.”

  “Hey, stop treating us like we are silly kids. What is going on? It’s my car. I have the right to know. And please, spare me the better safe than sorry routine.”

  Without answering, he rested his head on the headrest.

  “Hey, what are you doing? Going to sleep?” Margo sounded pretty mad. Just then from the gated entrance came a dark vehicle, and another. If they were cop cars, they were unmarked, no lights, no sirens, nothing.

  Now De Fiore turned to look at them. “Okay, ladies, give me five minutes, just five, and I promise you I’ll have answers.” He attempted a smile. “Deal?”

  Mina shrugged.

  “You owe me, De Fiore. You owe me big,” Margo said to his back. He walked quickly toward the two dark sedans parked between the Ford and the row of spaces where Mina’s Bug sat.