“Go ahead, Carlo. Do it, and the next person using that shovel will be digging your grave.”
That voice.
“Diego,” Mina shouted.
“Nick,” Lola chimed.
The two women looked at each other then at Diego. He was dressed in black, a gun gripped firmly in his hand. If the gun didn’t do the trick, his expression would.
Mina had seen that deadly intent before in California. He was a lethal stranger with burning eyes, and a determined, take no prisoners attitude.
“Who are you?” Enzo asked.
Diego had called him Carlo?
“I’m the one with the gun, and I don’t mind using it.” His eyes never strayed from the gravedigger’s son as he bent slightly and offered Mina his hand. Lola moved to reach for him. “Don’t even think about it,” he said in a tone so cold, Lola must have shivered. Again, he stretched his hand and helped Mina out of the grave. “Go check on Emilia.” He turned to Enzo. “Time for you to join your friend.” Diego jerked his head toward the open grave.
“What?”
“Get down there. Now.”
Mina knelt beside Emilia, removed the tape from her mouth and started on the rope. She kept her eyes on Diego and Enzo, who was now in the grave with Lola.
“Hurry, Mina, hurry. I have to find Fufa.”
“I’m moving as fast as I can. Maybe I should have left the gag on you, eh?” Mina’s hands shook and that wasn’t all. She trembled inside. Grungy. Smelly. Moist dirt clung to her jeans, her hair.
Twin beams of light cut through the night, headlights coming straight at them from outside the gate. A car? A moving car? Mina looked at Diego. He didn’t react.
A resounding crash, metal to metal, a vehicle rumbled through the cemetery gate. The car came to a sliding stop just inside the walls, raising a cloud of dust. The driver, a man, jumped out and hurried toward them.
Who was it? Diego didn’t turn his head or even glance at the car. He seemed to be waiting. For what? Or who?
“Emilia, are you okay?” he asked.
“They killed Alex.” She sobbed.
Mina untied the last knot, freeing Emilia, who sat up and stared, like everyone else, at the man approaching them. He walked with a slight limp, gun drawn like Diego, but unlike Diego, this man smiled. “Hope I’m not too late to the party.”
Where had she seen this man before?
If there were a goddess of anger it would look like Lola. She gasped then spit in the direction of the newcomer.
Thinning hair. Ponytail—of course. It was the man from the California Bar and Grill. What was his name? Gino.
He winked when he walked by Mina and Emilia, who still sat on the ground, pulling her dress down and finger-combing her hair in what looked like a decent effort at recouping her dignity. Mina helped Emilia to her feet. Her friend would probably be scraped and bruised.
Mina wanted to shout out praise for Diego and thank him for once again saving her life.
How did he even know where to find her?
Gino tapped Diego on the shoulder. “I got this one. The cavalry is minutes behind. Time for you to scramble. You’re holding up traffic.”
Was he speaking in tongues?
Diego looked at Mina who hadn’t moved. Their eyes locked.
“Go,” Gino said. “I’ll keep an eye on her, go.”
“Walk with me, will you?” Diego turned away.
She followed only a step or two behind him. He headed toward the back of the domed vaults. Was there an entrance back there? He tucked the gun somewhere in the small of his back, took her by the hand.
Behind them, Emilia called out to Fufa.
Mina walked with him on the granite slabs. Her shoes made hollow sounds; his footsteps were silent. They turned a corner and were out of sight from the rest, walking side by side in the shadowy light from the dozens of amber lamps along the marble façades of the mausoleums. She tried to tiptoe, be less noisy, less intrusive to the souls resting below. It struck her it might be a little late for that.
“Diego, are you mad at me? You had to come to my rescue yet again. How did you know where we were?”
“I could never be mad at you.” He stopped and faced her. “The phone. I knew where you were because of the phone.”
“But it didn’t work when I tried to call you.”
Police sirens howled in the night.
“Mina, you somehow turned on the phone this afternoon. We were connected the whole time. I heard it all, even your conversations with Fufa. Luckily the battery lasted until I was almost here.”
“It went dead? Thank God. You didn’t hear me sing.”
He laughed softly. “I heard you all right. That’s what saved Emilia’s head, your singing. Otherwise, I would have had to guess where you where in this big cemetery. Bella, I have to go now. Gino will explain it to you.” Even in the dim light she could see the sadness on his face. “I know they killed Alex. Her remains are probably in the Lanza’s crypt. Her grandmother will be notified.” He brushed away the dirt from her hair. “Aren’t you too old to play in sand boxes?”
She wanted to tell him how she felt, how much she would miss him, how badly she was hurting. The strangling emotion made her mute.
He cupped her face in his hands. “Let me look at you.” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t cry, and behave.” His lips brushed her forehead, her mouth.
She could die now or a thousand years from now but would never, ever forget the way he looked at her.
He stepped back and walked away.
She found her voice. “Wait. Please.” He stopped but didn’t turn around.
She rushed to him, removed Alex’s cross from around her neck, stood on her tiptoes and put it on him.
“Alex would want you to have it. It works after all. See? I’m safe.”
Diego opened his mouth, changed his mind, brushed the tip of her nose with his finger then disappeared into the darkness.
Mina waited for a sound, another glimpse of him. None came. Moving slowly and weeping softly under the sympathetic scrutiny of hundreds of eyes in the oval frames, she headed back toward the voices and commotion.
Without him.
Chapter 20
Mina spent what was left of the night on Emilia’s couch, partly to keep an eye on Emilia and partly because she didn’t want to be alone.
In forty-eight hours she would be high above the Atlantic on her way to California. No one back home knew of her early return. Unless she made a phone call, no one would be there to pick her up at the airport.
The story of her life, alone in a crowd of people. In spite of a hot twenty-minute shower, she couldn’t cleanse her mind of her brief sojourn in the grave.
Diego. She wanted to cry out his name.
His phone sat on Emilia’s kitchen counter, charging. She got off the couch, stretched in her comfy robe and went to open the shutters to the terrace. Ungrateful Fufa spent the night in Emilia’s bedroom.
The toilet flushed. Emilia was up. No matter how smart that cat was, she wasn’t toilet trained.
Mina was considering whether to risk starting coffee in Emilia’s off-limits kitchen when someone knocked on the door. This wasn’t her home. Should she respond and see who it was?
“Hey Mina, can you get that?”
Dilemma resolved. She opened the door.
The downstairs neighbor stood at the threshold.
“It’s Signora Rossi, Emilia,” Mina said loudly.
“Well, let her in. I’m coming.”
No need to repeat, Emilia’s voice could carry across the street. The caller stepped inside.
“Clara, vieni, vieni. Come in. What’s up?” Emilia hustled in, fully dressed and wearing lip-gloss.
Lip-gloss? Whoa!
“You’re asking me what’s up? There was a reporter from Il Vicentino, the Vicenza newspaper, hanging around asking all kinds of questions about you, Emilia.”
“What about me?” Mina asked.<
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“Not you, Mina. Emilia the intrepid sleuth and Fufa the super cat!”
How about that? Overshadowed by a cat.
“Mina, do you want some coffee? Go and get the rolls from your front door. Let’s eat something. And get dressed, will you, please?”
For some reason Mina felt like a third wheel. “I think I’ll go to the cemetery to say goodbye.”
“The cemetery is closed.” Clara made herself at home on the couch where Mina had spent the night. “The reporter told me. There are investigations going on. The whole cemetery is off limits to the public.”
“Maledizione.” Mina’s shoulders slumped. She wouldn’t even be able to say goodbye to her grandma. “I’ll go get the rolls.”
She wasn’t hungry, just miserable. She wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear.
Emilia put her arm around her shoulders. “Don’t go getting depressed on me. If not for you, Fufa and I wouldn’t even be here to break bread with friends this morning.”
“Me? Yeah, right, must have been my singing.”
“Your voice is always music to my ears, my friend. Now run along, and get back up here fast. Maybe we will make the news on the noon telecast.”
Emilia never mentioned Diego. How ungrateful could she be?
Mina went downstairs without any intention of going back to share coffee and near truths with Signora Rossi. The brown bag with the rolls waited on the doormat. Something else she needed to do was advise the baker to stop the extra rolls. Everything felt so—terminal.
Would she ever return to Italy? If she did, would Emilia still be here? Would she ever see Diego again?
Maledizione, she left his phone on Emilia’s kitchen counter. She had to go back upstairs after all. Might as well get dressed and do it even if it meant putting up with nosy Signora Rossi’s questions.
Maybe the reporter would come back and she could talk to him. She wanted the world to know it was her Diego who saved everybody.
It struck her then that maybe Diego wasn’t supposed to be there.
Gino sent him away. “The cavalry is minutes behind. Time for you to scramble. You’re holding up traffic.”
You’re holding up traffic? What traffic? There was none to speak of in the small town. Even the last bus from or to Vicenza would have left.
Did Gino and Diego work together outside the bar? Doing what?
She wouldn’t be the one to ruin things for Diego.
Mina had to clear her mind. All those lives devastated by the greed of one woman. Lola, her childhood acquaintance, had turned out to be one evil bitch.
Now she actually did crave some coffee and serious discussion with Emilia. Maybe Signora Rossi had already gone back downstairs and she could talk to her friend.
Had Gino said anything after she walked away with Diego? And what about Enzo? Diego called him Carlo. Her head felt ready to blow up, too much information and yet not enough.
Mina got dressed and went back upstairs with her paper bag from the baker. This would be the last time she would enjoy the scrumptious, fresh rolls.
Emilia’s door stood open. Mina went in.
Signora Rossi sat out on the terrace, sipping coffee. Emilia puttered around in the kitchen.
“Shush.” Emilia motioned to her. “Let’s not mention Diego or your role in my survival to Signora Rossi. I’ll explain to you as soon as she leaves.”
So Emilia did have a message or instructions. Good. She couldn’t wait for the neighbor to finish her coffee and get the hell out.
Mina went back to sit on the couch, and Fufa the Super Cat jumped up beside her, rubbing against her shoulder.
“Look at you, all fluffed up. Come here.” She took hold of Fufa and ran her fingers through the feline’s fur. “And you smell pretty, too. Emilia, did you give her a bath?”
“Forced her into the shower with me, used my best shampoo. Come Monday, we are shopping for a new bicycle basket with a plump cushion for my little darling.”
Meow. Fufa obviously knew she deserved it.
“What? You aren’t getting her a red cape?” Mina cast a quick look toward the terrace to see if Signora Rossi overheard. There was no reaction.
Emilia came out of the kitchen with a large tray loaded with rolls, cookies, Nutella and honey. “Mina, be nice,” Emilia whispered. “Don’t forget the phone. I think it’s all charged up.”
“Thanks, Emilia. I’m sorry. I’m crankier than usual.”
“Can you grab the coffee? Let’s go outside and have our breakfast.”
“Boy, you’re perky. I’d think you’d be sore as the devil today.” She did as Emilia asked and followed her out onto the terrace. “What if the media is overhead with helicopters or something?”
“What?” Emilia laughed so heartily, her tray shook. “This isn’t America. Where would they get the helicopters around here? Our local media headquarters is the hockey team locker room. Get real.”
Signora Rossi was showing signs of boredom, fidgeting on the chair, staring at her empty cup. She sighed and drummed her fingers on the tabletop. What was her problem? Was she waiting for something?
The three women sat quietly. The only thing moving was Emilia’s spoon as she stirred her coffee. Emilia seemed to be making it a point not to say anything, and Mina really had nothing to say.
After a few minutes that felt more like days, Signora Rossi cleared her throat. “Well, I should get packing, we are taking off for a few days to Rimini. A nice change of pace, the idea of sand and sun is just what we need. Emilia, you can always leave a message on our segreteria telefonica. I’ll be checking. Good-bye, Mina, not sure I’ll have a chance to see you before you go. It was nice meeting you.”
She stood, and just like that, she left.
“What a weirdo, and what the hell is a segreteria telefonica?” Mina spread Nutella on her roll.
Emilia laughed even louder than before. “Segreteria telefonica is a fancy way of calling an answering machine. Poor Signora Rossi she came to snoop. I bet she promised some gossip to the reporter who visited her home. He is really a distant relative of her husband, but she doesn’t know that I know.”
“You mean we are not really famous?”
“Mina, I’m not sure what’s going on, but that man with the ponytail…”
“You mean Gino from the California Bar and Grill?”
“Yes, I guess. When the carabinieri got there and he turned over Loredana and the cohort, he asked me not to mention Diego’s name. Do you know anything about it? That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to talk in front of Signora Rossi.”
“Good job, Emilia. How did you end up at the cemetery? Did Lola find you there?”
“No, no. After I left the clerk’s mother’s house, she must have called her daughter who probably rushed to call Lanza and company. They were waiting for me on the back road to the cemetery. They put me out with chloroform. Well, you can fill in the blanks.”
A phone rang somewhere in the house. Mina jumped up. Diego?
“Mina, it’s my phone. Telefonini sound different. You’ll know when it’s Diego’s phone ringing.” She went to answer it.
Chapter 21
Every piece of clothing she stuffed into the suitcase felt like discarding a piece of herself. She had carried such dreams and expectations when she’d boarded that plane to Venice. Going home. No one had met her at Marco Polo airport. No welcoming hugs and kisses when she’d arrived in her hometown. No family. Friends either dead, moved on, or trying to kill her.
Live and learn. She continued packing, tired of fighting the tears that blurred her vision. She was flying back the same way she flew in, alone. Her dreams and expectations were broken and shattered. Nothing some magic glue wouldn’t fix. Right? The image of the shattered Christmas Angel she’d glued back together flashed in her mind’s eye. That was it, the last straw. The golden-haired tree-topper was a direct link to Diego. She began to cry so hard, she crouched on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and sobbed.
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A glance at Diego’s mobile. If only it would ring. All alone, forgotten by all. Even Emilia had left after that phone call. She had to go fill out papers for the carabinieri regarding her abduction and attempted murder. No one asked Mina to go fill out papers or sign forms, not even talk to authorities, once again she had become invisible, unwanted.
Oh, Diego, where are you? What is so important that you must leave me once again?
After a bit of commotion on the stairwell, a light knock came. Mina wiped the tears off her face and looked for tissue to blow her nose.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, are you taking a nap?” Emilia’s voice came through the door. “Well, wake up and come upstairs. We need to talk. Mina, did you hear me?”
“Yes, I have to dress. Go ahead. I’ll be up in a minute.”
“What’s with you young people and all this getting dressed? When I was your age, whatever we had on in the morning stayed on until we went to bed at night.” Emilia’s voice grew fainter as she turned away.
It was early afternoon, the day almost over. Her last day.
Her suitcase packed, she would do a fast sweep before leaving. She traveled light, and all she’d bought were the garnet earrings for Margo.
Emilia met her at the door. “You’ve been crying, haven’t you?” She gave her a hug. “I saw that awful man, Enzo, Carlo, whatever his name is. He didn’t see me. He is telling the police his father’s fall was an accident. He had nothing to do with it. He claims he stopped by the cemetery knowing his father would be there even though it was his day off. He wanted to help him get the crypt ready for the next day’s burial when Piero accidentally fell in. Carlo said he panicked knowing his criminal past would be revealed if the police intervened. So he brought his father’s motorcycle inside the walls of the cemetery then went to work at the caffe. They found Enzo’s, also known as Carlo’s bloody fingerprints all over the crane, proof something happened to the father before he landed at the bottom of the crypt. And he couldn’t explain why the Lanza’s crypt was wide open last night. I can’t wait to see what they find out when they bring up poor Vittorio’s coffin.”
“They’ll probably find Alex’s body stuffed in there,” Mina said.
Italian Summer (Mina's Adventures Book 3) Page 13
