Force of Habit: A Falcone & Driscoll Investigation (16 page)

“Damn.” Blake shoved the
ring into his briefcase. “Frank, I have to get her back. Find out who’s doing this. Spend any money. Do whatever you have to.” He threw two twenties on the table and ran out.

The waitress returned. “May I get you some dessert?” Her eyes never left Giulia.

“We’re fine, thanks,” Frank said. “Come on, Giulia.”

Giulia’s legs moved when she told them to, but her numb fingers tried three times before they caught hold of her purse.

The busboy stared at her. A waiter caught her eye and licked his lips.

Hot sunshine on a smelly city sidewalk was delightful. Why couldn’t she get warm? She shivered all the way from the restaurant to Frank’s parking space. The car was stifling, but she kept the window up.

Frank rolled his down. “Aren’t you hot?”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself like a straitjacket.

Twenty more minutes of silence. When Frank parked in his usual spot behind the building, Giulia pried one arm away from her body and reached for the door handle.

“Giulia.”

She waited, not looking at him.

“Tell me...”

“Tell you what, Frank? That I should never have offered Blake a safe place to spend the night? I’m not stupid. I figured that out already.” She kept speaking to the dashboard. “I understand that working with me is offensive now, but stopping this stalker is more important than our personal likes and dislikes, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll put every effort into identifying her. You can treat this time as my notice. As soon as she’s caught—”

“I’ll terminate your employment. Is that what you want?”

No. I want you to say you know everything Blake said about me was a lie. I want you to trash professional boundaries and hold me and say you’ll make Blake apologize.

“I thought you were—” Frank’s voice stopped. A moment later, he said, “You used to be a nun, Giulia. Holy. Untouchable. When I bought coffee from you and you started talking to me, I thought you were sweet and clever and I was kind of ashamed for being attracted to you. When you said you’d work for me, I thought maybe there was a slim-to-none chance that you might not only look at me as your boss.”

This is hell. Trapped in an airless, ninety-degree car listening to the man I admire and want tell me why I now repulse him.

“Instead, you screwed Blake and lied to me about it.” Frank didn’t raise his voice, but she flinched.

“No.” He wasn’t going to believe that if she could help it. “Listen to me, Frank. I. Did. Not. Sleep. With. Him. I don’t care what those photos make it look like. They’re lies.”

He banged the back of his head against the headrest. “Damn. Damn. Who do I believe, Giulia? You? The tangible digital evidence in my coat pocket? Blake?”

“I’ve never told you a lie, Frank.”

“Everyone lies, Giulia. I lie to my brothers about how successful I am. Nature-girl Sidney might be a closet Twinkie addict. You lied about Blake standing naked in your living room. You’re no different.”

“Don’t you dare equate—”

“Don’t you tell me what I can or can’t do, Ms. Falcone. Don’t try to assume the all-holy nun mantle when it suits your convenience.”

“I never do that. I want you to listen—”

“I want you to be who I thought you were. What kind of a—never mind. When the stalker is stopped, you’ll no longer be my employee. Correct?”

“Yes.” She opened the door before her stoic front crumbled. She preceded him inside and went straight to her desk.

Sidney came out of the bathroom. “Hey, Ms. Falcone. How was lunch?”

Frank’s door slammed. Giulia typed like the keys were cheap meat that needed pounding. Sidney tiptoed to her own desk and read the document on her screen.

_____

“Sidney, if I had the money, I’d give you a raise,” Frank said Thursday morning. “Two dog-walkers and one jogger passed me this morning, and none of them gave me a second glance.”

He moved to Giulia’s desk. Today he dressed like any off-duty detective. Khaki pants, blue shirt open at the collar, linen-weave blazer. “Anything to report?”

“No. I switched from behind his porch swing to his bushes when the sun started to rise, then jogged the block for the last half-hour. Four people drove to work—probably—between five and six. Nothing else.”

“Fine. Here are my notes.”

“The spreadsheet will be updated before noon.”

“What’s your plan for tomorrow morning? We can’t use the landscaper disguise two days in a row.”

“Eager college student.”

His forehead crinkled. “What?”

“Before sunrise, I’ll jog down the street or across the intersection where I can still see. As soon as it gets light enough, I’ll bring out a sketch pad and draw. If anyone asks, I’m analyzing styles for my MFA in architecture.”

_____

“Envelope for you, Ms. Falcone.” Sidney turned it left and right in her hand. “I can’t make out the return address.”

Giulia took it like it held a live scorpion.

Sidney knocked on Frank’s door and opened it. “Mail, Mr. Driscoll.”

“Anything important?” He didn’t look up from his screen.

“Phone bill, junk, résumé-looking envelope, and an envelope for Ms. Falcone.”

“What? Ms. Falcone, bring it in here. Thanks, Sidney, that’s all.”

Giulia dragged her feet across the room. Zombies must function like this. Her only clear thought was how much she did not want to open this plain, square envelope.

Frank made the
gimme
gesture with his hand. “Let me see it. Smudged return address, of course. Use my letter opener.”

Giulia slit the flap and pulled out one of those cards that play music when opened. Her fingers touched the battery-powered computer chip in the back.

“What does it say? Show me.” Frank came around to stand next to her.

Her face. On a camel’s body. It made no sense. She’d expected a new X-rated photograph.

“A camel?” Frank looked from Giulia to the card and back. “Is this biblical?”

“I suppose.”

“Open it.”

She started to breathe a quick prayer. Useless. She’d renounced God.

“Open it, Ms. Falcone.”

Cackling laughter. She closed it. Opened it again. Sort of like the Wicked Witch of the West mixed with Woody Woodpecker. She read the cartoonish text: “ ‘Although you use an abundance of soap, the stain of your guilt is still before me. Consider what you have done. You are a swift she-camel running here and there, sniffing the wind in her craving— in her heat who can restrain her?’ ”

Giulia flung the card to the floor. “You bitch!”

Frank caught her arm as she ground her heel into the computer chip. “Stop! I need to see it.”

She kicked it into the far corner and it popped open. The laughter slurred into a drunk-sounding Woody Woodpecker.

“What for? So you can point out how each word applies to me? Let me save you the trouble.” She stalked to the corner and clawed the card up from the floor. “This is probably Jeremiah or Ezekiel. Let’s see. Nothing can make me clean again. That’s clear. She’s acquired a sense of humor, too. That’s a pretty mangy camel she put my head on. I especially like the lively translation she used for the quote. The RSV and King James are so stodgy when it comes to sex.”

“Giulia, calm down.”

“We’re back to Giulia now? Of course. Women like me don’t need the dignity of last names. Everyone in Tutti Mangia knows that now. Did you see how the busboy stared at me? Maybe he was wondering if his tips would cover a quick blow job.”

“Giulia, stop it.”

“Are you afraid I won’t give you a full day’s work after yesterday? Or that I might try to sabotage this investigation out of spite? After all, I’m a liar, right? I’m the filthy whore who spread her legs to keep the client happy. No, wait.” She held up the card and pointed to it like the teacher she’d been. “I’m a she-camel in heat—nobody can restrain my lust.”

“Giulia Falcone, shut up!”

She let the card fall to the desk. The slow-motion laughter petered out at last.

God, she was tired. Too many nights of sleeping in snatches between rape nightmares, photograph nightmares, homeless nightmares. If the landlord evicted her when she lost this job, would she sleep better under the Delaware Street Bridge? Was the convent really worse than all this?

She tucked her trembling hands into her skirt pockets. “Do you want me to leave now, Frank?”

“Yes.”

Oh. Well. That’s that.
“I’ll clean out my desk.”

“What? No.” He stood toe to toe with her until she looked up. “I want you to go home and get some sleep. You look like death warmed over. Just set your alarm so you make it to Pamela’s house on time tomorrow morning.”

This sounded like the old Frank, before those photographs appeared on the door. His face showed concern—but the minimal kind. The boss making sure his employee was able to do her job. Well, it was more than she expected.

“Thanks.”

She shuffled to her desk and shut down her computer.

Sidney wasn’t even pretending to work.

Friday afternoon, Giulia poked
her head around Frank’s door.

“Frank, let me see the clue collage. Something’s bugging me.”

“Come in.” He waved to the wall on Giulia’s left.

She read and made notes and compared interview quotes and background information until Sidney buzzed Frank’s phone. “I’m leaving, Mr. Driscoll. Break a leg tonight and have a nice weekend.”

Frank typed a moment longer, then closed the document. “She only says goodbye to me? Don’t you count?”

“She’s afraid of me.”

“Of you? Why on earth—oh. Yesterday.”

“Duh, Frank. If you’d explain what the blowup was about maybe she’d try to understand.”

“Ms. Fal— Giulia—”

“But since you still believe the photos and not me, there’s no point, is there? After I leave, she’ll have a great story for the next admin. All about the crazy ex-nun who slept with the client and wrecked her career.”

_____

The conductor closed his music as the applause dwindled.

“Good show, everyone. Nice job on the Minuet tonight. Sounded like cats yowling. Keep it up.”

Giulia broke down her flute and clipped her score together. Just after ten o’clock. In five hours, her alarm would ring.

“Excuse me, First Flute.”

Giulia looked up into broad pecs under a tight black T-shirt. Up higher, into the smiling face of the Second Violin.

“This is the right moment to give you this.” A chocolate rose appeared in his hand.

“I—it is?”

“To be honest, I meant to give it to you last Saturday, but I lost my nerve.”

Giulia’s brain short-circuited.

He held out the rose. “I’m glad I didn’t, though, because you look like you really need it tonight.”

To her left, Frank slammed home the locks on his cello case.

Giulia took the rose.

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

His physique was even more impressive up close. She caught a whiff of the same shampoo she used. A frisson of intimacy ran through her. She willed her brain to connect with her mouth. “I have to be at work at four a.m.”

“Ouch. Can I talk you into one drink?”

This was the Second Violin asking her out. Forget five hours of sleep. She’d manage on three. “Fair warning: at midnight I turn into a pumpkin.”

He grinned. “Then I’ll see you to your door at eleven fifty-nine.”

Giulia smiled.
Hey—I can still smile.

Frank heaved his cello case into his left arm and brushed past Giulia. “Good night, Ms. Falcone.”

After Frank disappeared through the exit, the Second Violin said, “The Cello’s your boss, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Jealous?”

“Not likely.”

“Gay, huh?”

Laughter nearly choked her. There was no way to explain the whole soap opera. No way at all.

He offered her his arm. “Ready to go?”

_____

“I’ve never been to an Internet bar before, Scott.” Giulia sipped her vodka cranberry and watched pockets of people banging away at keyboards.

“Not a gamer?” Scott pulled at his ale.

“Don’t even own a computer.”

“You’re kidding.”

Giulia smiled again. She hadn’t been this relaxed in days. “I’m the exception that proves the rule. I only use a computer at work.”

“Ms. First Flute, I foresee a series of long evenings at my place during which I seduce you into the universe of MMORPGs.”

“Of what?” She liked his use of the word
seduce
. Maybe it’d erase the bad connotations from her mind.

“Massively multiplayer online role-playing games.”

“Like Dungeons and Dragons?”

“Shh. Don’t let the gamers hear you say that. You’ll forever be branded as out of touch. D&D is ancient history. I’m talking about Combat Realm.”

A woman in the back squealed and hugged the man next to her.

“She probably just won a battle or completed a quest. Maybe defeated a supernatural monster.” He nodded toward a table with six laptops arranged like place settings at Thanksgiving. “Now I can confess that I had an ulterior motive for bringing you here. The Raging Death Clan challenged Flight of Terror to a battle tonight. That’s why this place is so crowded. My roommate’s in Raging Death.” He looked over Giulia’s head. “There he is. Hey, Kyle, over here.”

A pale man with a shaved head marched over to them, talking into the air: “...just waiting for Nightclaw. She had to fill in for the kid working the drive-through tonight. See you in five.” He touched his ear, and Giulia saw the matte-black cell phone earpiece.

“Scott, dude, come to cheer me on? Who’s the babe?”

Scott smacked the back of Kyle’s head. “Watch your mouth, clod. Giulia, I’m ashamed to say this is my roommate, Kyle. Kyle, this is Giulia Falcone, flautist.”

“What-ist? Just a second.” He tapped his earpiece and turned his back to them. “No, dude, I don’t see him yet. Battle’s scheduled for quarter to eleven... He’ll be here. Right.” He faced them again. “Sorry. Those your chicken fingers? I’m starved.”

Scott slid the basket of chicken and fries toward him. “Where’s Lugal?”

“In the alley, sucking a cig and getting into character.” He stuffed half of a long piece of chicken, dripping with ketchup, in his mouth. “Hold that thought.” He swallowed and tapped his ear again. “Yeah? Cool. I’m there.” He shook Giulia’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Gotta get ready.”

Giulia just then saw the messenger bag on his shoulder. As he walked away, he drew out a green-and gold cape, flourished it over his shaved head, and tied it at his throat. Several people whistled and applauded.

Scott hung his head. “Sorry about Clod-boy, there, Giulia. He spends more time online than in the real world.”

Giulia said around a mouthful of her cheesesteak hoagie, “Does he have a regular job?”

“IT tech for all the local hospitals, now that they merged. So 99 percent of the time, the only warm bodies he interacts with are fellow geeks.”

Giulia smiled again. “I speak a little geek, Scott. The species just needs proper handling, anti-static suits, and a good conversational dictionary.” When he laughed, she got a glow in her cheeks that wasn’t embarrassment. “So give me a crash course in Raging Death.”

“Easy. They’re all ogres, so they have major attitude.”

She stifled laughter. “That helps them in battle?”

“Sure, for when they fight zombies and—ah. Here comes Urnu the Snake.”

Giulia looked on the floor.
Wait. He means an ogre. A person playing ogre.
“Which one is he? Or she?”

“That tall, skinny guy in the black T-shirt and jeans. Looks like nobody, right? Wait’ll you see his eyes during the battle. He’s the ultimate warrior.”

Three young men left their barstools, and in hushed voices began chanting, “Ur-nu. Ur-nu. Ur-nu.” Several gamers left their screens to add their voices to the homage.

Mob psychology. More than that—religious fervor.
“Quite a reaction. The others on his team do what he says?”

“You bet. He’s a master strategist. Hrunting—that’s Kyle—controls lightning, casts spells, and is awesome with a two-headed axe.” Scott pointed to an older woman with a 1970s ’fro. “That’s Nightclaw. She’s a hunter. Ishtaria’s a mercenary—she’s the bleached blonde next to Hrunting. The Indian guy is Wulfaxe, the other warrior. He’s nowhere near Urnu’s level, though.”

They looked like a cross-section of average people to Giulia. She’d assumed they’d all be pale, pimply, and stoop-shouldered.
Never believe stereotypes.

Urnu the Snake sat at the head of the monitor-covered table and folded his hands like a priest at Consecration. He looked familiar. Maybe if she heard his voice...

Melted ice in her drink had watered it down, but she sipped anyway. “And who are you in all this?”

“Tonight I’m just me, rooting for Hrunting. When I’m in the game, I’m his apprentice. Anything to get into Raging Death.”

A true bodybuilder took the seat at the opposite end of the table from the snake guy.

Urnu raised his eyes and Giulia blinked at the power and pull in his expression.
That’s why they follow him.

Scott leaned into Giulia’s ear. “Lugal’s toast after the battle.”

“Who?”

“Lugal the Spear. The walking muscle that just sat down. He should’ve been first at the table to cast protective spells.”

“Maybe he had to work late.”

“When Urnu schedules a battle, his Clan is there. No exceptions. Hrunting called in sick to be here.”

Lugal the bodybuilder... no, Lugal the Spear attached his headset. Everyone raised a fist. Lugal raised both, revealing a silver and green spear tattooed on his left forearm. He spoke for a good two minutes, gesturing to each player in turn, saving Urnu for last. Then he stood. The others followed and slammed their fists on the table. “Death rages on!”

The clock over the bar read 10:44.