By the time they made it to the car, Diego had the engine purring, his jacket and tie off. He didn’t seem too happy.
Emilia got in beside him and checked him out. “Look at you, all wet. What was it? Water or booze?”
“Water mostly, plenty of ice cubes also.” He rubbed his temples. “Too many people. Gave me a headache.”
“Sheesh, that’s too bad—Nick.”
He stopped the car.
“Who’s Nick?” Emilia twisted around in her seat.
Diego did the same. He took off his sunglasses and looked straight into Mina’s eyes. She waited. He erupted into a resounding laugh. “I wondered if you caught the show.” He stretched over the back of his seat, poked her nose, laughed again, then shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking lot.
His shoulders shook. The fool kept on chuckling. She wanted to hit him on the head with the bag containing Margo’s earrings, but figured she’d better behave. He already had a headache. The last thing they needed was for her to cause an accident.
Emilia was still hanging half-off her seat, staring at Mina and Diego. “Who the hell is Nick? How about someone tells me? I could use a laugh.”
Mina never took her narrowed eyes off Diego’s back. “Remember when I went to that bar in Vicenza with Lola? And she couldn’t stop raving about Nick the bartender?”
“I guess. Who cares about that puttana and her men?”
“I do.” Mina didn’t mean to get so emotional. “Not about her men, I mean. Oh, I don’t know what I mean. Emilia, Nick the bartender is also Diego, this Diego here.” She poked the back of his head.
“Is it true?” Emilia sounded surprised.
“It’s true that I worked the bar and that for the occasion my name was Nick. As for the crazy blonde from hell, I had nothing to do with her. She cornered me at the mercato and put up quite a show. Sorry you had to witness her meltdown, Mina.”
Now he was serious, and Mina realized she’d been unfair. “Maybe she’s the one who sent Enzo there to get you wet. What is it they say? Revenge is better served cold? Yours came with ice cubes.”
“How do you know that man’s name?” Diego removed his shades again. His eyes met Mina’s in the rearview mirror.
“Whose name?”
“Enzo.”
“He was our waiter when we stopped for a drink. He’s also a friend of Lola’s. In my opinion they sleep together.”
“For the love of God, will someone tell me what’s going on?” Emilia’s frustration peaked.
“While the other waiter tried to wipe me dry, he apologized for Enzo. Said he recently lost his father and was taking some time off work because he was so depressed. Mina, do you know his last name? Is it Rinaldi?’
“Rinaldi?”
“Oh, Dio mio. The gravedigger’s son?” Emilia hyperventilated. “That’s it. That’s the connection. Loredana Lanza, Enzo and Pietro Rinaldi. We’ve got them.”
“You got what? No law against sleeping with the gravedigger’s kid.” Mina wanted to return to the subject of Nick.
“How about we all calm down until we can sit and compare notes?” Diego was back to his usual role–the person in charge.
He parked the car in front of Emilia’s property. They got out of the car quickly. At the front door, he said, “Emilia, I need to stop by Mina’s to change my clothes. I’ll come straight up after that and tell you what I learned. I’ll need your help.”
“No problem, I’ll fix something quick to eat. I bet we’re all hungry, and since we never did get our aperitif, we need to take care of that.” Emilia turned and almost stepped on Fufa. “There you are. Let’s go, girl. Let’s get something to eat.”
Mina pouted a little, aware the ache inside her was all about Diego’s impending departure. She wasn’t all that interested in Lola, Enzo and Piero.
Diego wrapped his arm around her waist and coaxed her up the stairs. “You aren’t really jealous of that Lola, are you? Surely you know me better than that by now? I go for tiny brunettes, not big blondes.”
They reached the top step. She turned and laid her head against his chest. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know, bella, I know. Don’t cry, please. Let me leave with memories of your smile.”
“Diego, how did you really know I was in Italy?” She unlocked the door.
“Oh, that. I knew you were in Italy, but had no idea you were going to show up at the California. Yes, it was quite a shock.”
“What? You heard me argue with the American soldier?”
“I’m about to tell you a secret. Keep it safe. The place is under—is managed by Uncle Sam. Young soldiers tend to go there to spend their cash, drink too much and brag a lot. Sometimes to the wrong people. It’s a way to keep an eye on the troops off base.” He smiled at her astonished expression. “The place is surrounded by cameras, inside and out. I happened to glance at the monitor under the counter and there you were, one shoe on, one shoe off. Yes, the one and only Mina. I wanted very much to come and personally put that shoe back on your foot. Common sense led me to grab my jacket and flee the scene. Of course, Gino figured out someone who would recognize me was coming in. I spent the next day looking at the tapes and then got in my car, and well, you know the rest.”
“Oh, Diego, I love you so much.” She threw herself against him. “But, why were you bartending there?”
“I hoped to collect info regarding Alex. Gino said she used to hang around the bar after she was dismissed.” He took her gently by the shoulders and moved her back. “Mina, I’m sorry, so sorry. I really need to get going, talk to Emilia then hit the road.”
She hung her head.
“Remember. No matter what happens, you promised to be on that plane come Sunday. Right?”
She nodded.
“Diego, sure you don’t want a glass of Prosecco? Prefer some red table wine?”
“Thanks, Emilia, I’ll stick to ice water. I have a long trip ahead. Listen. The clerk who signed off on Alex remembered the car that came for her was a black Land Rover. How many black Land Rovers are there in this town?”
Emilia stopped, her glass of wine halfway to her lips. “Black Land Rover? That was Vittorio’s car. His wicked sister sold it after she inherited the whole estate.”
“So Alex was seeing Vittorio Lanza.”
“Diego, Alex was released the morning of the funeral. Vittorio was in a shiny casket, not out there picking up the love of his life.”
“Would she have known he died?”
“No. She was detained and locked up late the night before his death. Oh, mio Dio, it all makes sense. They wanted her out of the way while they killed him.”
“Emilia, who are they?” Frustration seeped from Diego’s voice.
“The person accusing Alex of theft turned out to be Loredana Lanza’s secretary or maybe Loredana used the secretary’s name when she phoned in to get Alex released.” Emilia was on a roll. “While you were changing clothes, I called the caffè at the piazza. The owner of the caffè is an old friend, and he confirmed our suspicions. Enzo is Pietro Rinaldi’s son. He was hired as a waiter about the same time his father got the cemetery job. And yes, Enzo has a big crush on Lola. She sometimes picks him up after work. So, who do you think was driving the Land Rover? It wasn’t the gravedigger. He was busy at the cemetery.”
Diego’s pants chimed. He excused himself, stood and walked away, pulling a phone from his pocket.
“Did you know he had a mobile phone?’ Emilia asked.
“He told me, but it never rang before. Must be important.”
Diego stood outside on the terrace, talking, nodding. He put the phone back in his pocket and joined them.
“I have news for you, Emilia.” He sat back at the table and pushed his plate away, the food untouched. “The gravedigger had a hematoma at the base of the skull, not much but enough to question the accidental death. And, while checking into that it looks like Vittorio’s body will be exhumed. It won’t be tomorrow, you n
eed to be patient and don’t tell anyone until it becomes official. Promise? That’s about all I can do for you. The young clerk I spoke with didn’t need to be coaxed at all. She freely discussed the matter of the gypsy, offered up what she knew and paid no attention to privacy laws or anything else. She acted like it was her civic duty to share every bit of information, true or otherwise. She even mentioned that the gypsy was pregnant. How she remembered so many details I don’t know.”
Emilia lifted her hands. “Eh, I’d like to tell you I’m surprised. I’m not. That’s why this town will never need a newspaper. Everybody talks about everybody else. No one takes time to check the facts”
“The clerk probably kept Loredana Lanza informed about Alex’s moves. It would be interesting to know how the line of succession and the heredity played out in the larger picture. As far as we know Alex and Vittorio weren’t married yet, so Alex had no claim to the Lanza’s inheritance. I feel so close.” He shook his head. “Emilia, you have your work cut out. I’ll leave a phone number you can contact if you come up with something interesting regarding Alex. Sorry I don’t know how you can access me directly, at least not immediately. Let me write down the number for you.”
Mina stood and swallowed back the misery rising in her throat.
That was it. He was leaving. Would he give her a phone number to call, too?
“Ladies, I will be leaving now. Emilia, it has been a pleasure, and I’m glad Mina found such a good friend in you. Will you be driving her to the airport?”
Emilia nodded, but seemed unable to speak. She stood and hugged Diego.
He gathered his brief case, suit bag and turned to Mina. “Will you walk me to the car?”
All she could do was nod her head. She refused to cry. When they reached the landing by her front door, he set down the bag and briefcase. He sat on the step, reached for her hand and coaxed her down beside him. He took the phone from his pocket then opened the briefcase and removed a power cord and plug.
“Mina, I’m leaving my mobile phone with you. This is the charger. The phone runs on a battery that needs to be charged. It’s simple.” He showed her how it went together.
She watched intently, excitement coursing through her veins. He was throwing her a lifeline, a way to talk to him.
He went on. “If you push this button it will ring me up. Please don’t.”
What? She made a little choking sound.
“Wait, wait, it’s not a joke. Let me finish. You can only use this if you’re in a serious jam. Promise?”
She nodded, holding the phone in her hands. “I promise.” But I don’t understand. You’ll be somewhere you can help me, but I can’t see you or talk to you?
“No one else has this number. So if this phone rings, it’s me. I’ll call you when I can.”
Her heart leapt.
“If you haven’t heard from me by the time you land at L.A. International, you can go ahead and call. If I’m not available, a friend will call you back.”
“A friend?” She was a mess. Alternating bouts of sorrow and joy. Did he have any idea what he was putting her through?
“Gino. Gino will call you if I can’t. Remember him from the California? We go back a long way. You can trust him. No more questions. I really have to go. Behave.”
“But… but what about you? Don’t you need a phone? What if you get in a—a serious jam?”
He hugged her, his lips on her hair. “You are the sweetest thing. I have a new phone in my car. Don’t worry about me. Stay here. I’ll let myself out.”
She opened her mouth to protest.
“Please.” He stood, picked up the bag and briefcase and hurried down the stairs.
Mina waited until the front door clicked shut then she let loose the tears.
Chapter 17
When the tears ran out she went upstairs to Emilia’s and sat at the same place as before. The table had been cleared, and Emilia bustled here and there in the kitchen. Neither of them spoke.
Mina set the mobile phone on the table, and stared at it as if she could will it to ring. She rested her arms on the table, encircling it, shielding it.
It was all she had left of him.
Fufa seemed to sense her sorrow. She rubbed against Mina’s legs then jumped on the chair next to her.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee came from the kitchen followed by Emilia, a cup in each hand. “What’s that?” She pointed to Diego’s phone.
“Diego left me his phone.”
“Hmmph. He only left me a relay number.”
“I’m only supposed to use it in case of emergency.”
“That was nice of him. I guess.”
She was wounded and bloody. Inconsolable. “Where do you think he’s headed?”
“Mina, stop torturing yourself. This is who he is, what he does. It’s probably even one of the reasons you are so smitten. Not knowing what tomorrow will bring can make the hunt more intoxicating than the capture. Oh, don’t look at me like you want to kill me. I’m trying to cheer you up.”
As if on cue, Fufa hopped on the table and nuzzled Mina’s arm, then sat on top of the shiny phone. “No, no, Fufa. Get away.”
Mina picked up the fancy mobile phone, saw that it was off and cradled it in her hand.
“Shiny objects. Fufa can no more resist it than you can stop loving Diego, I guess.” Emilia sighed. “Love messes up lives. Vittorio and Alex are the Romeo and Juliet of our little town.”
Mina raised her head and caught Emilia’s gaze on her. “What if the clerk told Lola that Vittorio’s lover was pregnant?”
Emilia stared at her with eyes big and fixated like those of an owl. “Mio Dio. Dear God, I never thought of that. You’re right. It makes sense. If Alex carried Vittorio’s child, Loredana Lanza could kiss her inheritance goodbye. Except the girl wasn’t pregnant.”
“But the chatty clerk didn’t know that. If you are right, and Lola killed her brother for the money then the next day found out a little heir was on the way… we need to tell Diego.”
“Relax, if we figured it out, so will he. But what did they do with that poor girl? Oh, my God, dead or alive we need to find her. I want to know who was driving the Land Rover. I’m going to go talk to that clerk. Better yet, I’ll talk to her mother. Yes, that’s what I’m going to do. Wanna go with me? It’s not far. I can ride my bicycle.”
“No, I don’t feel like seeing anyone. I’m leaving on Sunday. I’ll buy some flowers in the morning and go say goodbye to Grandma. Now I think I’d like to take a walk to my old house. God knows when I’ll be here again. I’ll see you later.”
The back roads she chose for her stroll seemed as deserted as her apartment building. Before she moved to California, she walked this same path all her life.
She should have done this the first day after her arrival. Why didn’t she? Her heart went pitter-patter as it did when she was a child faced with unfamiliar surroundings.
But that house was home. At least it had been home for sixteen years. This time of year the grass would be drying in the sun. The glorious smell of hay piled high on the cropped meadow would be everywhere, and the nights would be filled with the laughter of children chasing fireflies under a summer moon.
Memories.
All gone, bulldozed by two-story houses with more on the way, laundry hung on makeshift clotheslines strung on unfinished roofs and small, two-door Fiats parked hopscotch along the narrow one-way street.
What a difference ten years made.
Mina sighed. Her trip down Memory Lane was quickly becoming her Calvary. What would she find when she reached the hilltop?
A brown mutt crossed the narrow street and meandered toward the riverbed at the other end where a meadow once was. The dog stopped only once to mark his territory. Where the road changed from flat to steep, her mouth went dry. There was no turning back.
Her Madonna. The plaster bust of the Virgin Mary, dating all the way back to 1890, was caged into the shrine built against the wall across fr
om her old house. The construction date was carved at the top of the enclosure in Roman numerals. The scrolled wrought iron bars were newer, a by-product of the times. When thieves stole the donations left in the metal box, the bars solved the problem. A veil covered most of the sacred figure. Only the delicate face and neck were left visible. The Madonna’s veil made of plaster was the same shade of blue as her eyes, either bright or pale depending on whether the coat of paint was new or old. Money collected in the metal box went to pay for fresh flowers and for electricity to keep the lamp above the shrine always lit. Mina remembered the lamp as the only source of outdoor light on the whole street. When she was growing up, it was one of the few spots where she was allowed to hang around with her friends until bedtime.
Mina had always thought of the Madonna as her personal consigliere. If she did something bad and got away with it, she dropped part of her weekly allowance in the donation box to keep the eternal light burning. It shone bright on this early summer eve. The flowers were cyclamens in their natural color, bright pink with deep green foliage. They appeared to have come directly from the mountains without flower shop detours.
Mina crossed herself, bowed her head and sent a heartfelt prayer to her beloved departed. She turned to cross the street when whistling from the road below diverted her attention. It was an excuse to postpone looking at the house.
A young, athletic-looking woman pushed a stroller with a small child in it. She whistled cheerfully and the curly-haired tot appeared delighted with the serenade. Soon they reached the spot by the shrine where Mina stood. The young woman lifted her right hand and crossed herself then touched the child’s forehead. She smiled at Mina and proceeded without slowing her pace. Mina turned her head, following the woman’s progress.
The house came into her line of sight.
It stood three stories high as it always had and still projected the same sense of shelter and constancy. A coat of peach-colored paint gave new life to the previously yellow walls. New shutters dressed the windows. The climbing wisteria and persimmon tree were gone, uprooted.
Nothing could remove the essence of the house, the house her grandfather built. Tears filled Mina’s eyes. Maledizione. She thought the time spent in California had toughened her and moved her past this sense of loss and homesickness. It caught her off guard. Through tears, she watched the whistling young woman open the front gate of her house and push the stroller up the cobblestone path where her grandmother’s potted geraniums once sat.
Italian Summer (Mina's Adventures Book 3) Page 11
