She was possessed by the urge to wail. This was not how she envisioned her homecoming. She should be the one walking up the familiar path, not a whistling stranger. The emptiness of her life hit her hard. Reduced to voyeurism. This was a horrible mistake. The hands of time couldn’t be turned back.
In the distance, the church bells rang. She rested her forehead against the cold iron bars and looked into the glazed eyes of the Madonna. Her hand searched for cash to put into the donation box. She found the mobile phone next to some paper money. There wasn’t enough cash in the world to buy her what she wished for. She forced the folded bill into the slit, and walked away.
By the time she made it back to the condo the sun was setting. She was exhausted from a day spent weeping on a roller coaster of emotions. She lay on the bed, with her clothes on. The sheets smelled of mountain pine, not that it mattered. She was about to go back to the States just as lonely and alone as when she first arrived. She hadn’t expected to ever see Diego again, but here he was. And now he was gone again. She’d bonded with Emilia but was about to say goodbye to her, too.
Her eyes felt like open wounds. She drifted into a restless sleep cuddling Diego’s phone against her chest.
She woke. The room was dark. What time was it? Seven-thirty. She switched on the lamp. How had Emilia made out with her visit to the clerk’s mother?
The stairwell was as dark and silent as a tomb. Shivers traveled up her spine from cold pangs inside her. Emilia’s door was locked. She knocked several times. Nothing.
Maybe Emilia decided to have dinner with friends. If she rode her bicycle, she probably took Fufa with her. Mina went back down to her place and turned on the TV. It was like watching a showcase of American reruns. She went to close the terrace door. The deck was wet. It must have rained while she slept. Maybe she should start packing.
A scratching noise came from somewhere in the living room. She went back inside, but couldn’t tell where it came from. She shrugged. It seemed to have stopped. No. There it was again. She tried to follow the source when a loud meow left no doubt.
Mina opened the front door, and sure enough, there was Fufa, except—the cat looked—different. She bent down to scratch Fufa behind the ears. The cat flinched away and meowed again, louder.
“What’s the matter, little one? You’re locked out? Let’s go tell your mama to let you in.”
Mina started up the stairs. Fufa beat her to it, scampering up and stopping by Emilia’s door. It was locked. Mina knocked, then again. Nothing. Fufa followed her every move. Poor thing, she was soaking wet and covered in mud. Had she been left out in the rain?
Mina tried the door once more then gave up and started back to her condo.
Fufa stood on her hind legs and clawed at the door, over and over. When she stopped, she sat and wailed, a shrieking sound. Mina’s skin crawled.
Chapter 18
Where was Emilia? Obviously not at home. Did Fufa get loose and come home on her own? A dog would. How about a cat? Mina sat on the professor’s couch watching the front door she’d left standing open. Fufa came slinking into the room. She was puzzled by the cat’s behavior.
Fufa stopped by the sofa and meowed. It wasn’t the playful give-me-attention sound Fufa usually made. It was a mournful moan, almost child-like. Was she hurt? Hit by a car? Where was Emilia?
Mina got up and tried to pet Fufa. The cat paced by the door. Skittish. Something was wrong. She decided to go see if Emilia’s car and bicycle were accounted for. Diego’s phone sat on the side table. She grabbed it, just in case. Hope never dies.
Fufa seemed to agree with that idea, she scooted down the stairs ahead of Mina and waited by the side door to the parking stalls. Mina opened the door and went in. Fufa hesitated then followed. Emilia’s car was inside, but the bicycle was missing. Emilia hadn’t come back yet.
A sense of dread came over Mina. She squatted down and looked at Fufa, her pleading eyes and messy fur.
“I wish you could talk, Fufa. Is your mom in trouble? Does she need help? Where is she?” The cat rubbed against her thigh then turned and headed back to the lobby door.
“Oh, my God. You want me to follow you. Wait for me. Let’s find your mama.”
She opened the door and followed Fufa out into the cool evening.
At first Fufa paced herself down the driveway but moved faster when they reached the street. The absurdity of the situation crossed Mina’s mind, but she’d been in stranger circumstances than this. She pushed it aside.
There were people back in California who walked their cats on a leash. She didn’t have a leash and didn’t seem to need one. Fufa moved with purpose and a sense of direction. She stopped once to allow Mina to catch up with her.
Mina thanked the power above for the deserted streets. Most people were probably still lingering at the dinner table or watching television. Sounds came through the open windows, family sounds, normal sounds–children laughing, people talking. Rich smells of Italian food carried on the night breeze. Dark clouds played peek-a-boo with the moon.
And they walked.
Mina had no idea where the clerk’s mother lived. Hell, she didn’t even know their name. How would she find Emilia? The cat left the main road and cut through a narrow street. Mina knew immediately where they were.
It was the back way to the cemetery.
The road hadn’t been kept up, presumably because most of the traffic to the cemetery went around to the front. It was a faster way to get to the cemetery by day, but in the dark it was tricky, not such a good idea. Potholes were made into puddles by the recent rain. Was that how Fufa’s fur got muddy?
The initial excitement had disappeared, concern, dread and self-consciousness in its place. What the hell was she doing? Following a cat in the dark? It was probably true that cats had night vision, but Mina didn’t. She already stepped in a half dozen puddles.
The row of cypresses swayed in the breeze, their silhouettes menacing in the night. Damn. All was quiet, and she was scared to death. Why are people scared of cemeteries and dead people? One generally didn’t hear reports about corpses attacking or robbing passersby, well, except on TV. While she didn’t believe in vampires or zombies, there were obvious reasons she didn’t watch those shows.
This was simple idiocy.
She stopped.
Fufa made a U-turn and began to cry so loud she could wake up the—hell! Stop it.
She was outside the locked gate, the same place as when Piero let her in.
The view through the rusty bars was like a nightmare. There was no direct lighting inside, just outside the walls on the streets. Inside, the tombstones and crypts had small amber-colored lights, which from where Mina stood, looked more like dying candles.
She wasn’t going in there. She didn’t want to, but even if she did, it was locked. She gave the gate a half-hearted shake. Yep. Locked. Too bad.
She looked down at Fufa just as the cat happened to look up at her. “Well, my dear, as you can see, this is as far as we can go. It’s after hours.” Why was she whispering to a cat?
Fufa wasn’t about to let her off that easy. She clawed at her jeans.
“Come on, Fufa, your mom isn’t here, see? This is a cemetery, only dead people here tonight. No bike, no Emilia.”
Instinctively she looked at the same wall where Piero’s motorcycle was parked that day. Nothing there to see.
“Sorry, kiddo, I’m going back home. I bet your mom is waiting for us.” She turned around and for just a second thought she saw something move, like a shadow, at the opposite end under the arched crypts.
Nonsense.
Just my imagination.
But what if…?
The large garbage bin with the discarded flowers and plants sat in the same spot against the wall next to the gate. The lid was closed. How hard could it be to climb on top and take a little peak over the wall? Just a peek so she could say she checked. She could do that. No problem.
One knee up and she pulled her
self on top of the bin. Fufa joined her in a single leap.
Somewhere in her agitated mind Diego’s voice echoed. “This is not your fight.”
Fufa purred and Mina shook herself then hauled herself high enough to look over the wall.
Just inside the perimeter, to one side of the gate she saw something lying on the ground, a dark shadow. The clouds parted and moonlight illuminated the graveyard. It was Emilia’s bicycle.
Sorry, Diego. This is my fight, after all.
Chapter 19
In the silence of the cemetery, her shoes on the pebbles sounded like steamrollers on boulders. Too bad. She wasn’t about to remove her shoes, no siree. Mina squatted down to check out the bicycle. It was Emilia’s. No doubt. She recognized Fufa’s basket.
How did Emilia get the bike over the fence? Or did she? Fufa stuck close to Mina’s legs, rubbing against her jeans. Mina was tempted to stand up and call out to Emilia.
In the cemetery? Her grandma would turn over in her coffin.
She was confused and more than a little scared.
A shuddering screech came from the opposite end, somewhere under the domed porticos. Fufa’s back arched up. She hissed and moved closer to Mina.
“You’re scared too, aren’t you little one? Cemeteries are no fun,” she whispered. “What do you think is happening?” She was so frightened her gut churned.
That noise again, louder, like rusted hinges forced open. Oh, mio Dio!
Somebody was using the manual crane to open a crypt. Her instinct was to get up and run, but run where? She’d climbed over the wall without the foresight to plan an escape route.
She tried to make herself small, invisible, hiding behind a headstone. Was she desecrating the dead? She crossed herself and kept her eyes glued in the direction the sounds came from. The moon was back behind the clouds, and she couldn’t see. If the moon came out…
Wrong thing to wish for. If I can see them, they’ll be able to see me. Who are they?
And where was Emilia?
A beam of light. Brief. Precise. Gone. A flashlight.
Whoever was opening the crypt had a flashlight.
Now Mina knew where they were. She closed her eyes and mentally counted down the arches from the Calvi crypt. It was the Lanza’s burial place. No doubt. The ornamental lamps shone much brighter than the ones on the other crypts. Of course.
Emilia came to exhume Vittorio’s body on her own? That was insane. It made no sense at all. Did she have the key to the cemetery?
Why would Fufa be so upset? There was more going on than an illegal exhumation.
The light beam reappeared then tumbled to the ground.
“Idiot, you idiot. Watch what you’re doing. That’s the only flashlight we have.” Angry voice. A woman, but it wasn’t Emilia. It sounded more like… no, no. Please, God, no.
Lola.
Who was she talking to?
Mina had to get closer to see what was going on. Maybe Emilia was also hiding and watching.
What was Lola up to? Why would she open her family’s crypt? And at night?
Mina moved from grave to grave, keeping close to the ground, careful not to step on gravel. She muttered apologies to the dear departed while walking on their little sacred square of dirt. Fufa followed close, and when Mina least expected, the night sky cleared. The moon shone in its full, haughty splendor.
Damn.
Mina was so close now she could actually see the wheels of the crane and Lola’s shoes. How about that? High heels. Ridiculous. Focus, Mina, focus.
She wanted to know whom Lola called an idiot. The column in between crypts hid Lola’s companion and the upper part of the crane. Ahh, that noise again! The floor of the crypt began to move. No, no. The massive slab of granite slid away and began to rise.
“To the right, no. To the right, I told you.” Lola’s shrill command. She didn’t seem happy with whoever was helping her. She stepped away from the column. When she moved, Mina saw a large bundle on the ground near the edge of the open crypt.
It was big. What?
The bundle moved ever so slightly. Lola kicked it. Mina heard what sounded like a muffled groan. It was Emilia, all tied up. Oh, my God. Lola was going to kill Emilia, put her in the crypt.
It hit Mina so hard she felt sick. It was dark down in the crypt. Coffins were stacked down there, oozing decaying matter, reeking of death. Bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t afford to throw up. She had to keep her wits. She had to act. Now.
There were no more headstones to hide behind. Only one grave stood between her and the path dividing the row of tombs from the steps to the arched corridors. And this grave was empty, a deep hole like the one Piero dug that first day. Remains had been excavated to make room for the next body.
Lola’s companion, still hidden from Mina’s sight, cranked the crane again. This time the shrill grating was so loud and offensive, Fufa let out a snarl and leaped toward Emilia.
Mina bit her lips to keep from screaming in alarm. On sudden impulse, she lowered herself into the freshly dug grave.
Instantaneous regret. What was she thinking? Don’t touch anything. Pretend you’re somewhere else.
The odor was nearly unbearable. And bugs. Yes, she had no doubt bugs would be crawling everywhere. She shoved her hands in her pockets in an effort to make herself a smaller target, less accessible to the horrors around and above her.
Her hand found the phone in her pocket. Diego’s telephone. Emergency only. This qualified. Breathing through her mouth to avoid retching from the terrible smell, she pulled out the phone and pushed the button like he’d told her. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Panicked, she tried other buttons. But still, nothing.
God, get me out of this, and I promise to get on that plane on Sunday and never complain again. Please.
“Well, what do we have here?” A man’s voice.
Mina peeked from the hole. The stench made her gag, but she had a good view of the scene.
Enzo Rinaldi. The person with Lola was Enzo. Of course. He would have access to the cemetery keys and would know where everything was. He reached out and snatched Fufa.
Emilia wriggled and squirmed. Something dark over half her face seemed to be keeping her quiet. Enzo held Fufa by the scruff of the neck and lifted her high above the opening of the crypt.
“Looks like we have a volunteer.” Bullying a cat? The very definition of cowardice. “Hey. Lola, the cat wants to go first. What do you say? Let’s send her down to play with the gypsy’s baby?”
“Shut up,” Lola said.
The gypsy’s baby? Oh, my God. They did think Alex was pregnant. They killed her and buried her in Lola’s family crypt. For nothing, all for nothing. There was no pregnancy. If situations weren’t so dire, Mina would have allowed herself a good cry for the terrible waste of Alex’s young life. But as things stood in the here and now, it was vital she maintain focus on the situation. Emilia was in lethal danger.
Emilia twitched and turned on the granite slab. Seeing her poor Fufa so close to being killed must have been driving her mad.
Come on, Mina, think of something.
“Welcome to the Hotel California, such a lovely place… La-la-la-la.” Mina straightened and stood in the middle of the grave, opened her mouth and sang with all her might.
Enzo and Lola spun around to look at her, mouths gaping open. In the moonlight their faces looked like they’d seen a ghost. Fufa screeched, jerked from Enzo’s hold and disappeared into the darkness.
Mina had no idea what Emilia was doing because her eyes were glued to the two miserable human beings staring back at her. Fear tangoed up and down her spine. The instant the effect of the surprise wore off, they’d be all over her.
Enzo recovered first. “Look what we have here, l’americana. Thank you Jesus for listening to my prayers and sending me a new toy.”
Lola bent down. She straightened with a shovel in her hands. It looked a lot like the shovel Piero used the first day Mina met him. Lola motione
d Enzo to stay put. She stepped off the granite to the gravel path, a little wobbly in her stiletto heels.
Mina was impressed. Really, Mina? Is this the time?
Lola kept her cool. She stopped at the edge of the open grave. Mina’s head barely cleared the top. It was a struggle to control the shaking, but she refused to give Lola the satisfaction of seeing her fear.
“How about that Enzo?” Lola’s tone was smug. “This one already dug her hole, how nice of her. All we need to do is fill it back up. We have a nice large shovel. Might as well get started, we don’t have all night.”
Lola scooped dirt onto the blade and flung it at Mina’s head.
Mina anticipated it and ducked. She reached up, grabbed Lola’s ankles with both hands and pulled with all her might.
Lola screamed. The shovel flew from her grip as she fell into the open grave on top of Mina.
Mina was no match against Lola’s size, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to die at the hands of a bleached blonde even if she had to fight with her will alone.
Lola lay on top of Mina, swore and spit dirt. She held Mina at bay with one hand as she got to her feet. Mina struggled but couldn’t break free. Being short had at least one advantage. Mina head-butted Lola under the chin.
Enzo hovered over them, laughing his stupid ass off.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump, thump, thump.
All three froze and watched in disbelief as Emilia, trussed like a sausage, rolled herself down the steps. She worked her feet and tried to kick Enzo’s legs out from under him.
He picked up the shovel...
“No!” Mina yelled.
…lifted it over his head. “You old witch, you are so dead.”
Italian Summer (Mina's Adventures Book 3) Page 12
