Love Thy Sister (Mina's Adventures Book 1)

by Maria Grazia Swan

  At first, Mina didn’t pay too much attention. Apparently the driver wasn’t giving up. Having the Corvette shadowing her rear bumper made her nervous. On impulse, she pulled out at the first available freeway exit and found herself headed for Irvine. The black car right behind hers.

  Where was she?

  The street sign read Red Hill. Oh, Okay. Now if she could figure out which direction to go, she’d be fine. She drove in the center lane while debating which way to turn. Both cars came to a halt, side by side, at a red light.

  From the corner of the eye, Mina could see the passenger’s side window of the Corvette sliding open. Stay cool.

  “Hi, baaabe.”Baaabe? Would that be what Americans refer to as’A wolf in sheep’s clothing’? Well, that middle-aged sheep-wolf could use better clothing and—a haircut. To compensate for his lack of hair on top, the well-fed man wore the back part of it in a long, oily ponytail.

  The old Mina would have stuck out her tongue at him, then hit the gas. But this Mina was wearing a business suit and—high heels. So, she simply ignored him. He wasn’t giving up that easy.

  “Whatch you doing, baaabe?” He wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

  Mina played the deaf-mute. When the light turned green, the man retreated back to the driver’s side. He turned up the volume of his car radio as the window closed.

  “Put on your red shoes, let’s dance—”

  The music exploded in her head. Oh, Dio Mio!That song. The same song she heard on the phone, night after night.

  “Mister, hey, wait.”

  The black Corvette was already vanishing to the left in a squeal of tires. Mina gunned her yellow rag top cutting off a motorist turning left. She wasn’t rational. She had to know.

  Now the car turned into what appeared to be an industrial park. Mina didn’t know where they were headed. From behind one of the buildings, she could see a huge, colorful balloon floating in the sky. The kind used on promotional stints, like when they opened the new Albertson’s in Mission Viejo.

  The Corvette parked, the engine running. Mina pulled up right behind it. She got out of her car, strode up to the driver side, and tapped on the window. Ten seconds went by, then the glass glided open. The sheep-wolf looked surprised, gave her a silly smile. “Yesss—” He stared at her, in anticipation, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

  “Excuse me, is that the radio or a tape?”

  His expression changed, “What the hell?” Without removing the cigarette he sneered “Tape? Tape? Yeah, this is a CD. Ever heard of CDs where you come from? You followed me here, babe, so don’t give the music line.”

  She bit her tongue, tried again. “You were listening to a song.” Mina hummed, “Put on your red shoes—”

  “So?” He looked really ticked off.

  She didn’t care. “What’s the title of the song? Who is singing? Where can I get it?” She blurted it all out without a breather.

  She could tell by his glance he thought her to be a lunatic. He puffed on his cigarette, flicked the butt through the air, barely missing her.

  “David Bowie, Let’s Dance. This is California, not Bosnia. You can get the CD in any music store. Even at K-Mart.” He looked at her as if she were dirt. “Hell, you may even get it over there,” He pointed in the direction of the floating balloon. “Move your shitty car,” he said and his window went up.

  Mina got into her VW, backed up to let the Corvette pass and then, without giving it a thought, drove toward the balloon.

  David Bowie, the English rocker? What was the meaning of it? Was there a connection between Bowie and Paola’s death?

  Put on your red shoes...Someone was trying to scare her, trying? No, someone had her scared to death. And she was going to find who that someone was.

  Mina circled a large building and ended up by an electronically controlled gate that was open. A huge painted sign on the gate announced: FORT KNOCK. Cute.

  Dozens of cars randomly parked had spilled out the strange mix of population that filled the area behind the gate. People walked around aimlessly, staring at—the grounds?

  Never one for resisting temptation, Mina crossed the gate.

  Upon closer scrutiny, the crowd wasn’t looking at the grounds after all.

  Tables covered with a variety of things were lined up across the length of the building. She finally realized what this was about, a self-storage business.

  A young man with short, curly dark hair and soft brown eyes approached her; “You look lost, may I help you find whatever you are searching for?” Searching, how appropriate.

  “What are you selling? I mean, you are selling, right?”

  He had a nice smile, “You have an accent...” She nodded yes. “We are selling the contents of overdue rental spaces. We used to do it on weekends but then the competition from garage sales was hurting us. Now we do it on weekdays, twice a month.”

  “Oh, I’m probably at the wrong place, I happened by—do you have any CDs or tapes?”

  “As a matter of fact we do. That way.” He put his hand on her elbow, guiding her toward the corner end of the building. His touch annoyed her and the soles of her feet were starting to hurt. Damn shoes. She should be at the office. What got into her?

  The place was set up in sections, like a regular store, and there seemed to be something for everyone. Used TV, stereos, books, clothing, and kitchen utensils, even a doghouse.

  At the very end of the row of bay doors, there was a section for audio-visual and computer related products. Both sections were crowded with young people, some looked like students from nearby UCI, others could have been field workers or passers-by like herself.

  Something caught her attention as she walked by the computer table.

  Boxes, ordinary cardboard boxes, like the ones West Coast Software used to ship diskettes.

  “Wait.” She broke away from her guide and approached the table. The shipping labels from the boxes had been scratched out.

  “People leave stuff like this behind?” She asked, surprised.

  “Not really. The owner owns one of the largest discount-software stores in Los Angeles and from time to time he sends down a shipment for us to sell.”

  Mina picked up a diskette, “Are they any good?”

  “Of course they are.”

  Still holding the disk in her right hand, she let her thumb slide lightly around, feeling each edge. Even before the impact began to hit her, she knew. The feeling rose from inside, rushed through her entire being. A gush of euphoria, quick and completely unexpected.

  There it was, nearly invisible to the eyes. A tiny nick, the swipe of a blade. Paco’s masterpiece. The missing diskettes.

  “Are you okay?”

  Before answering, Mina took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to expose herself. “How much?” She waved the disk in the young man’s face.

  “We sell them by the box,” he smiled, “the more you buy, the less you pay, cool huh?”

  “Whoa! I have a couple of friends who are looking for bargains like these. We could share. How many can we get?”

  Now he laughed, “I thought you were looking for CDs.”

  “I can always get CDs. I’d rather get my friend here, see what kind of deal you’ll give us.”

  “I’m not the one. You need to talk to my father. He’s the manager. I’m just helping out.”

  Mina pulled another disk from the same box as the first one. She wanted to be sure while not getting the young helper suspicious. Her lips opened in a sexy smile while her finger went on reconnaissance mission. Now she was sure.

  “I’ll talk to my friend. We may be back. What time do you close?” It was hard to hide all the turmoil inside her. She kept on smiling, waved goodbye, and went back to her car. At a phone booth a hundred yards away, she dialed Brian’s number.

  With each ring, she renewed her plead to God; per piacere, Dio Mio, please, dear God, let him be there, let him pick up the damn phone.

  He did, on
the third ring.

  * * * * *

  It was close to ten o’clock when Mina arrived at West Coast Software. Inside, Paco sat at Margo’s desk.

  “I’m sorry to be late. Where’s Margo?” She avoided looking Paco in the eyes, worried he may read the truth in her own.

  “You mean she didn’t call you? I already tried her apartment—no answer. This concerns me. I don’t remember Margo ever missing a day of work.”

  “Would you like me to sit in for her?” She wanted to be by the phone anyhow.

  “You’ll have to. None of the Fernandezes came to work, either.”

  “Good riddance.” Mina plopped her purse down on the floor as Paco rose from the receptionist’s chair. It was going to be a great day after all. She smiled. And an even better evening.

  “There isn’t much to smile about. Think like an owner, Mina. We’re shorthanded.” If he only knew about the disks.

  “Sorry. I always thought the Fernandezes were just a bunch of leeches that kept their jobs because of Michael.” She sat down in Margo’s chair.

  “Yes, Madame President, but with Margo, Ishmael, and the Fernandez sisters gone, it makes seven people missing in one day. And that’s a problem.”

  The phone rang before she could answer him, and he walked away, shaking his head.

  * * * * *

  Mina was in the middle of a call when Paco came in from the warehouse around eleven-thirty. “One moment, I’ll transfer you to shipping,” she said, and punched the release button.

  “Haven’t you reached Margo yet?” he asked.

  Mina dropped the receiver into the cradle. “I’ve been trying since I got here. I hate doing this.”

  “I’ll see if I can get someone from the assembly line to relieve you, but I’m not sure any of them speak good enough English.”

  Mina leaned back in the chair and stretched. “Maybe we should get a temp, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know. It’s expensive to use an agency.” He looked at her. “Mina, are you sure you don’t know where Margo is? You seem—you are—I have the feeling you are hiding something from me.”

  She wasn’t going to blow it now. Act busy, preoccupied “—All the things I need to get done. I tried to go through the files, but this damn thing rings so much, I just keep running to pick it up.”

  Right on cue, the phone rang.

  “See?” She punched the incoming line. “West Coast Software, may I help you?” When she recognized the voice on the other end, she looked up at Paco, pretending to be surprised. “Good morning to you too, Detective De Fiore. Yes, he’s here. Can you hold please?” Depressing the hold button, she said. “He’s on line two. He needs to speak to you at once.”

  Displeasure showed on Paco’s face. “I’ll take it in the office.”

  The UPS man came in for her signature, and she told him to take the delivery to the back. As the door closed behind him, Paco emerged from the office, beaming. “Mina, I’ve got to go to the police station.”

  “What for?” She lied.

  “They think they’ve found some of the missing disks.”

  “Who?”

  “The police. Sorry to leave you here like this, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “What about someone to relieve me?” she yelled, but he was already out the door. Anticipating Paco’s reaction once he knew the whole story, she let out a joyful, “All right!”

  * * * * *

  At four o’clock the workers went home, but still no sign of Paco. Mina hadn’t heard from Brian since she left him at FORT KNOCK with De Fiore. If he expected her to go out to the movies with him now, he didn’t know Italian women. He could have called.

  No lunch, no breaks. She finally took the phone off the hook and went to the ladies’ room. No matter how broke the company was, she’d hire a temp for tomorrow.

  When she came out of the restroom, a red-haired deliveryman stood inside the front door, his back turned to her. She cleared her throat, loudly. He turned and she saw the roses. Red roses, long-stemmed, beautiful.

  Maybe Brian knew Italian women after all. She stepped forward.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m delivering flowers for—” he checked his clipboard “—Margo Swift.”

  Mina’s smile faded. “She isn’t here.”

  “That’s okay, can I leave them? You can give them to her, right?”

  “Right.” These gorgeous roses were for Margo? Unbelievable.

  “Well, okay. I’ll just leave them here.” He put the glass vase with the flowers on the desk, giving her an expectant look that she chose to ignore.

  After he left, she counted the roses: twelve. How corny. She walked around the desk and put the phone back on the hook. From this side, she saw there was a note with the flowers. She stood there a moment trying to resist, but it was too tempting. She reached for the card.

  The front door opened, and Paco burst in. “You little witch, you knew it all along.” He grabbed Mina’s hand and pulled her around the desk, twirling her as if they were dancing. “We did it, we did it!”

  “Paco, are you crazy?” His euphoria was catching, and she laughed and twirled with him.

  “We’ll get the disks back as soon as the police are finished. Mina, we’re in business!” He hugged her, and then twirled her again. “Next we find out where the original disk with the info is.” He added.

  She felt light headed. “Can you calm down long enough to tell me what happened after I left Brian and the cops at the storage place?”

  He let her go and collapsed onto the couch. “The police found the man with our stolen disks.”

  “You mean the thief? It wasn’t the young kid, was it?”

  Paco paused. “Well, no. He didn’t know anything about it. And the owner of the business...actually he’s a victim, too. But he should have been more careful.”

  “Wait just a second, Paco. I’m going to put the phones on night service. Then I want you to tell me everything.” It was actually two minutes before five o’clock, but she didn’t care. At least she wouldn’t need to answer the phone any more. She secured the switchboard and went back to Paco.

  He’d calmed down a little, and spoke with his customary seriousness. “Well, it started with you going shopping. By the way, what were you doing there? Never mind. You are so smart. So you called Brian, he phoned De Fiore.”

  “Paco, I already know that part.”

  “How did you remember about my nicking the edges?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “Well when the cops confiscated the disks, the manager told them to talk to the owner of the place. The man, an Iranian, also owns a large discount software store in L.A.”

  “And?”

  “And he was telling the truth,” Paco was saying.

  “Excuse me, Paco, who was telling the truth?”

  “The Iranian. Boy, you think I have an accent, you should hear that man talk. Anyhow, he showed the police an invoice for the disks, proving he bought them from West Coast Software.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. He said Michael Davies made the arrangements over the telephone and a woman delivered the disks in our company van. He had to pay cash in order to get such a low price.” Paco leaned his head back against the couch. “Do you know what a relief this is? And your mother.” He took Mina’s hand and patted it. “She would be so pleased, so proud of you.”

  Mina didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded.

  Paco noticed the roses for the first time. “Ooh, Mina, these are nice.” He got up and went to the desk. “By the way, I have a message from Brian. He tried to call you several times but the phone was busy. He’s still at the police station, talking to De Fiore.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he has a sore finger from all that dialing. The flowers are for Margo,” she said.

  “Ahhh,” he nodded. “For Margo? From whom?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a card. Do you think something’s happened to her? Maybe we should read it.”


  Paco shook his head. “It’s not right. Oh, one more thing. De Fiore wanted me to tell you there’s a warrant out for Michael.”

  “What for?”

  “Selling stolen disks.”

  “Paco, when he made the deal he was still an owner of the company. They can’t arrest him for stealing his own stuff.”

  “Over half of the disks were Takawa’s. And there’s more—the storeowner insisted that the woman who made the delivery was Rachel Fernandez. He identified her picture.”

  “Well, that’s possible, isn’t it?”

  “Mina, the invoice is dated November twenty-fourth. Three weeks after her death.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Her fingers drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of the rock music, but Mina’s thoughts were still at West Coast Software. She and Paco had stayed late to clear up some of the paper work. When they’d finished, he made sure the building was secure, and they left for home.

  But nothing felt right. All those little things that had gone wrong today—Margo’s no-show, the missing files, the missing Fernandezes.

  Not to mention Brian. Better not think about him. She last saw him standing by the gate of FORT KNOCK, waiting for De Fiore & Co. And as she was leaving, he blew her a kiss, saying: “Don’t forget, pick a movie for tonight.”

  The excitement of finding the missing disks faded hours ago. All that was left was edginess and uncertainty.

  Drive back to the office, that’s what you should do. If she went home with all those unanswered questions, she would only feel worse.

  It was seven o’clock and the traffic was an unbroken chain of fuzzy red and white lights tailgating into the dark. The Bristol exit sneaked up on her. Braking hard, amid blaring horns from irate drivers, she maneuvered to the off ramp.

  West Coast Software’s parking lot was deserted. Mina pulled her car up next to the entrance. She opened the front door, locked it behind her. After turning on the lights, she went to disarm the security system.

  Sitting in the same chair where she’d spent most of her day, she stared at the flowers. What’s bugging me? It was just a dozen red roses in a glass container.