“Oh, no, they won’t. I guess you don’t know. Mina, what is assumed to be the gypsy’s body has been found at the bottom of the crypt. It looks like they just tied her in a blanket and dropped her down in there.”
Mina’s jaw dropped open.
“Don’t look at me like that. What do you think they were planning to do with me and Fufa? Loredana Lanza is the only heir. No one opens or closes the crypt without her say-so. I hope to god Alex was the only body in there unaccounted for.”
“This is so sad for Diego. Who told you about Alex?”
Emilia sighed. “That’s all everyone at the Caserma is talking about. We don’t have much crime around here and certainly nothing so gruesome.” She sat on the couch. She looked spent. “Remember the clerk with the babble mouth? The one who told Loredana I was over at her house questioning her mom? Her mother told me Loredana Lanza is the godmother of the clerk’s three-year-old child. How convenient is that? That Lanza woman is evil, and all the poor people think she is such a generous, giving woman. Supposedly, the gravedigger grew suspicious of her behavior and had been trying to get the city to open the Lanza’s crypt. He made up the excuse that the granite slabs felt sort of wobbly.
“Poor man. I bet they feared he’d open the crypt even without a permit, and Loredana sent the son to check. When he saw Piero moving the crane, he assumed he was doing just that and panicked. It was that whore who said she saw you coming out of the cemetery Wednesday afternoon. Said she was just driving by but was probably dropping the gravedigger’s son at the cemetery. Yeah! I’ll make some coffee, why don’t you watch the local news, they were interviewing the Maresciallo, the man in charge of the investigation.”
Mina thought Emilia needed a nap more than she needed coffee. She fiddled with the television remote. She hadn’t seen one that big and that old in a very long time. Finally the screen came alive. Oh, mio Dio, she recognized the fioreria where she’d bought the cyclamens for her grandmother. It was the only flower shop around.
“Hey, Emilia, how do you get the sound on this thing to work? I think they are interviewing Katia the florist.”
Emilia came running. She clicked a button on the remote then sat next to Mina, transfixed.
The flower shop owner lamented the arrest. “How can they arrest Miss Lanza? She is such a wonderful human being, my best customer. Every morning we delivered fresh flowers to the family crypt to honor her family and especially her poor, poor brother, Vittorio. She only wanted the most fragrant buds.”
“I bet she did, to hide the stench of the body rotting inside, you idiot.” Emilia was on a roll.
“I just purchased a brand new van because of her daily delivery. We needed a large vehicle. It’s only two months old. What am I going to do now?”
The woman was bawling over her lost income on public television?
“Turn it off, will you, please? See, Mina? What did I tell you? This is what happens in small towns. Loredana Lanza was a good generator of income. Look at the florist. She may have to sell her brand new van. Doesn’t it break your heart? Thank God you are leaving in the morning.”
“What have I got to do with this?”
“Nothing. But you are the only outsider, and soon the town will try to lay the blame for all somewhere. They’ll convince themselves that all these problems began after you arrived. Give them a week, and peasants with pitchforks will be circling the building. I’m glad Diego convinced you to change your flight.”
Emilia was all fired up again. She headed for the kitchen. “Guess who is paying us a visit in a little while?”
Mina’s heart skipped a beat. It must have shown on her face.
“No, Mina, not Diego, I could see it in your eyes. His friend Gino. He is a pretty funny fellow. He was helping the carabinieri. He gave an interview to a national channel, can’t think which one”
“Why is he coming here?”
“He wants you to sign some declaration regarding your conversation with the gravedigger on Wednesday afternoon.”
“I could have gone there with you.”
“That’s what I said to him. He shook his head and practically told me to shush. I don’t mind him coming over. I’m really curious to know how he fits into all this and—” She had a devilish look in her eyes. “How he happens to know Diego.”
Finally, Mina smiled. “Emilia, you are a devious genius. Maybe he’ll tell us where Diego went and why.”
“Don’t get your hopes up too high, okay? I told him to come around suppertime. I’m going down to the cellar and grab a special bottle I have been saving. If he really runs the bar, he’ll appreciate the thought.”
It turned out Gino was a lawyer, now semi-retired. He managed the California Bar and Grill and did a little lawyering pro bono. He loved what Emilia was doing for the gypsies when they were arrested.
That brought up Alex. “Both her mother and her paternal grandmother have been contacted. The two women never liked each other but they agreed cremation would be best. Signora Cantú will come up to retrieve the ashes when the time comes. It won’t be tomorrow. This town doesn’t have a forensic lab. The body or what’s left of it will be shipped somewhere else. We may never know if she landed in the crypt dead or alive. Such a waste. It will bring closure to the families and to my buddy Diego, I hope. He can stop blaming himself and give himself absolution on this one.” He looked at Mina. “How did you meet him? He said you knew each other in California?”
Was this a test? “Uh, yeah. We have a common friend, Detective De Fiore of the Santa Ana Police Department.” She tried to read his reaction.
“De Fiore, huh? Yeah, that makes sense, Diego has a soft spot for anything and anyone Italian.”
He bought it, and he obviously had never discussed De Fiore with Diego. The only thing Italian about Dan De Fiore was his last name, which he took from his stepfather. Otherwise the detective was full-blooded Japanese .
“Mina, I have a list with questions regarding your conversation with Pietro Rinaldi on Wednesday afternoon. I will record the answers and you will sign a form saying you answered of your own free will. Your friend Emilia, the lawyer, will be the witness.” He winked at Emilia. “We may never need this, but if we do, I don’t want the Italian cops to have to chase you down in California. You are signing this as an American citizen. Okay?”
Mina told him about the gravedigger letting her into the closed cemetery the day before he was found dead. She related that he was well-dressed and groomed, not dressed for work at all. She mentioned he only planned to move the crane to get a jump on the next day’s work. Gino asked if she remembered whether Piero’s motorcycle was inside or outside the cemetery wall.
“Outside,” she said. “No doubt.”
Dinner was great. Emilia made potato gnocchi and brought out some cheeses and prosciutto she’d purchased from some contandini, farmers, relatives of hers.
“Excuse me, Signor Gino,”
“Mina, ma che Signor, call me Gino.”
“Gino, how did you explain to the police what happened at the cemetery?”
“Oh, you didn’t see my interview on national television? I was brilliant.” He had a great smile. “Well, I was driving back from Recoaro, the town a little north of here, I went there to order some special wine from my supplier. On the way back I got confused and crossed the wrong bridge. So instead of going straight to Vicenza, I found myself driving through back roads I’m not familiar with. I drove with the car window down because it was a lovely evening when I heard all this commotion from, of all places, the cemetery.” He winked at Mina. “First, I dialed 1-1-2 on my car phone then I crashed the gate and rushed in to help the people in distress. That’s how I was able to stop young Rinaldi and Loredana Lanza from harming Signora Emilia Lauri and her precious cat. Yes, I’m the hero of the day. Maybe now I can get my old job back” He winked again, just like that first night at the California. He laughed and toasted Fufa who was sleeping all rolled up on the couch.
“Tha
t’s all good for the interview, but I’m sure Loredana is going to get herself a lawyer, and she is going to tell about me and about Diego, then what?”
“Ah, Mina, Loredana never met Diego, she calls the gunman in the cemetery Nick. Nick the bartender. Except there is no Nick the bartender. I should know. I do the hiring for the damn place. And how much credibility do you think Rinaldi will have? He fooled everyone pretending to be Enzo, his deceased younger brother. He is really Carlo Rinaldi, and the South African Government may want a piece of him.
“When I left the Caserma, the Lanza girl had lawyered up. Her story is that Enzo pushed her brother down the stairs at the factory accidentally then worried he’d be charged and dragged Vittorio’s unconscious body over by the ladder. He knew Pietro would find him and because there was no connection between the gravedigger, it wouldn’t look like a suspicious death. That’s two accidental deaths for this Enzo. However, Enzo insists it was Loredana. When Lola heard about the impending marriage, she saw her wealth and power threatened by the apparent line of inheritance to Vittorio’s bride. She dumped a massive dose of her own Prozac in Vittorio’s morning cappuccino then asked Enzo to help her move the body to the ladder where Vittorio was due to hang the Christmas lights. It is now in the hands of the lab.
“As for your presence at the cemetery? Diego Moran assures me you were never there, and he is usually right.”
“Usually? That’s an interesting choice of words,” Emilia said.
“Yeah, we all have our Achilles’s heel.”
“You don’t say. So what’s yours?” Emilia seemed to be enjoying herself. Mina had no idea where this was headed.
Gino stood and moved away from the table. He held onto the back of the chair with one hand, he lifted his left pants leg with the other. Inside the perfectly shined shoe his prosthesis was obvious.
Mina was stunned and by Emilia’s gaping mouth, so was she. Gino kept on smiling.
“Now you know why I run the bar instead of running around like a certain adventure addict we all know. Don’t look so sad. It’s perfectly fine. Sometimes I even forget about it. You wouldn’t have known had I not showed you. Years ago, I got too close to a mine field and I’m not the desk type so La Madonna delle Collane…”
“The who?” Emilia and Mina spoke at the same time.
“My present boss, The Madonna of String Pearls.”
“Wait,” Emilia said.
“Wait,” Mina said.
They chorused. “Your boss is a woman?”
“Yeah, damn epic don’t you think? She always, always wears pearls around her neck. That’s how Diego and I started to call her Madonna delle Collane.”
“You two have the same boss?” Mina wasn’t sure how far she could go with her questions, but she was willing to push it to the limit. She’d never gotten anywhere close to this much information out of Diego.
“Well, I was hired to run the bar after my little accident. I’m sure Diego played a role in my being hired. My former boss put me out to pasture. I don’t know if the pearl lady is Diego’s boss. She does like him though, the way she talks about him, ‘Oh, Diego has a sixth sense, we need to trust his judgment.’ She even made her jet available for him on Friday evening. There she was, plane idling on the runway, while Mister Moran was tearing his jeans scaling the walls of the local cemetery. What I wouldn’t have given to hear the story he gave her when he finally made it back.”
You are holding up traffic. That’s what Gino meant. A private jet. How old was this woman? Where was she taking Diego? Her jealousy and mistrust flared up again. Mina exchanged glances with Emilia. They understood each other.
“Gino, what do you think of this wine?” Emilia refilled Gino’s glass.
Mina excused herself. “Ladies’ room.”
She put the lid down and sat on the toilet, killing time. Would Emilia be able to learn anything more from Gino?
Mina knew her face was an open book. She couldn’t hide her feelings. But not Emilia. She had more experience getting information from unsuspecting people. Not that this Gino seemed to be naïve. He could well be a master manipulator feeding them stories.
Too bad she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Italian homes were built differently than the ones in the states. Even the interior walls were made of brick, not so easy to eavesdrop. She fiddled with the faucet, flushed twice, combed her hair. Finally she couldn’t take it any longer, she returned to the dining room.
“There you are,” Emilia said. “Just in time to say goodbye to Gino. He knows we both must rise early as I’m driving you to the airport tomorrow. Come, my dear, let’s walk him to the door.”
“Gino, do you need help with the stairs?” The minute she said it, she regretted it. “Of course you don’t. I’m a fool. Thanks again for everything. I hope to see you again some day.”
They waited until they heard the engine of his car turn over, Mina helped Emilia clear the dinner table. She was dying to hear what Emilia had found out about Diego.
“There isn’t enough wine in the world to get that man to tell what profession he and Diego are in or who they really work for. I’m sure in the morning he’ll regret the Madonna delle Collane slip, but… I did get some interesting information. Sit down and listen. Let this be my going away present to you, my dear Mina.”
Chapter 22
Mina squinted and lowered the shade against the bright sunlight reflecting off the Adriatic far below. “Goodbye, Venice. Arrivederci, Italia.”
She hoped the humming of the plane engines would lull her to sleep.
Flight attendants came by, checked safety belts and stowed away carry-ons. Soon they were airborne, and there was no turning back.
Going home to California. Thinking of home and California in the same sentence seemed like a betrayal of her motherland. She sighed. Would she ever see Emilia again? Eyes closed, heart broken, she tried to force herself not to think about Diego. How could she not?
Last night’s conversation with Emilia was as clear in her mind as the look in Diego’s eye when he’d said goodbye. Dear God, keep him safe.
After Gino had gone, Emilia went over the last bit of information he’d divulged.
“Gino said La Madonna delle Collane convinced Diego to go to the States to get him over his depression. He felt responsible for Alex’s disappearance and was obsessing about tracking her. So he participated in a joint undercover mission in California. Newport Beach. Everyone was jealous of Diego. They were all stuck in the cold, snow and slush of winter in Europe. The favorite son was in Southern California, sunny beaches, golden girls in bikinis. And the job? Gino said it was a walk on the beach. A true vacation—and then, bam!”
Mina had jumped, startled.
Emilia smiled, seeming pleased with the effect of her dramatic storytelling. She went on, “They said he was riding his fancy motorbike at night without a helmet. Gino said no way in hell Diego would get on his bike without a helmet.”
Mina had opened her mouth to inject some part of the truth, that Diego had insisted she wear the helmet, but Emilia held up her hand.
“No, wait. It gets better. Some crazy cop woman was chasing him. She shot at him. Just like in the movies, Mina.
“Gino said that was the story that circulated when Diego got hurt. He wasn’t sure if it was true or not. Diego never told him anything else. The Harley supposedly blew up. Diego wound up in the hospital with scrapes and burns, plus there was a tiny, tiny metal shard in his skull. They didn’t have time to evaluate him completely because the pearl lady flew in, scooped up her little bird and flew him to Germany. The doctors there determined it was more risky to operate than to leave the shard where it was.”
Mina started to tell her that was a pretty accurate account of what happened, at least as far as she knew.
But Emilia wasn’t done. “I tried to get Gino to drink more wine, thinking maybe I could squeeze a little more out of him, but he said he had to stay awake in case he received an important phone call about
Diego.”
“What about Diego?”
“He is back in Germany. The metal shard has moved and has to be removed to preserve his brain function.”
Mina’s heart went staccato. “Oh, my God! No.”
“So you didn’t know. Gino thought as much. Diego was killing time at Gino’s bar waiting for the surgeon to arrive at the American facility in Landstuhl. He spent his free time trying to locate Alex. Well, that he did. Gino said women flock around Diego. Said he’d seen it lots of times. Maybe that’s why the lady cop was shooting at him. Anyway, Gino was jealous of Diego’s sweet assignment in California.”
Sweet assignment? Deadly assignment. If only Gino knew.
Mina remembered that December night like it was yesterday, Diego forcing her to wear his jacket and helmet to keep her safe, shots fired from a police-issued Remington twelve gauge… oh, Diego.
She’d never known for sure what had happened that night, not until Emilia relayed what Gino said. Everyone told her Diego died and went to great lengths to sell their story. Some days she’d believed he had. Others, she’d been certain he’d merely abandoned her. She spent two years alternately mourning him and resenting him, only to finally learn he was still paying the price for his unselfish act.
Why did Diego send her home instead of telling her about the surgery? Brain surgery. Terrifying. All that for saving her life two years ago and saving more lives two days ago. She wanted to be with him. It was her turn to take care of him. Yet here she was, stuck in the air on her way to the States. He did it intentionally. What was she to do? A sitting duck. Clever, Diego, clever. Her heart beat so hard she was afraid the whole plane could hear it. She grabbed a tissue from her bag and her fingers encountered the coolness of the mobile phone. Diego’s mobile phone.
“If you haven’t heard from me by the time you land at L.A. International you can go ahead and call.”
That’s what he’d said when he’d given her the phone. Mina looked at her watch. Sixteen hours, with the stop in Amsterdam she should be at L.A. International in sixteen hours. She held the silent partner against her heart and closed her eyes.
Italian Summer (Mina's Adventures Book 3) Page 14
