Force of Habit: A Falcone & Driscoll Investigation (26 page)

Frank deflated. “I said I was sorry.” His forehead-puckering frown reappeared. “What more do you want?”

“I want my reputation back. I want to be innocent again.” She needed another rush of purifying anger. “A hundred
I’m sorry
s can’t give that to me. God doesn’t want me. No man would want me.”

Frank kissed her.

Surprise wiped everything else
from Giulia’s head.

Frank broke the kiss and took her face in his hands. “You are innocent. Evil tried to touch you but it failed.” He kissed her again, his lips soft, gentle.

Giulia had the awful impression she looked like a deer in the headlights. Where was the angry Frank? The smug Frank? The pig-headed Frank?

“I don’t know much about God’s omniscience, omnipresence, all the other omnis the priests tell us He’s supposed to be.” Frank kept hold of her face. “But if I’m made in His image—I am, right?” He nodded her head for her. “Then I’m going to risk lightning striking out of a cloudless sky and speak for Him. God still wants you. But I’m glad you divorced Him, because flesh-and-blood men have a chance now.”

This time when he kissed her, her lips gave him a fragile response.

He released her head, and his grin challenged her. “That means I have a chance now.” A pause. “Right?”

“I, I...” She gulped. “Maybe. Right.”

He pocketed his keys. “Then that’s settled. Can you pick up that bag?”

She bent halfway and stopped. “I’d rather not.”

“Thought so. All right, sit there a sec. I’ll help you out of the car and grab everything.” He untwisted himself from the gearshift and took a plastic grocery bag from the floor in the back.

While she leaned against the back passenger side of the two-door Camry, Frank piled everything into the hospital bag, then took her arm and led her into the inn.

“I called for a reservation when I got the car from the emergency-room lot. It’s on the first floor, so you don’t have to deal with stairs.”

“I don’t have any luggage.”

Frank laughed. “I shall give a censored explanation to the desk clerk. He or she will have no cause to raise an eyebrow at you.”

_____

“Blast.” Giulia fished the new toothbrush out of the sink for the third time.

“Need help?” Frank’s voice reached her over the soccer game on the room’s TV.

“Gotta learn how to brush my teeth sometime.” If she held it with her thumb and last two fingers, the stitches bent only a little. She tried squeezing the travel-sized toothpaste tube using the same three fingers on her left hand, and it worked.

She wanted a shower, but not with Frank here. Besides, her head still hadn’t quite wrapped around that kiss.

Except “Ten Minutes Ago” from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s
Cinderella
was running through her mind.

Shelve it. You’re on overload. Give it a day or two.

Frank patted the other cushion of the loveseat when she came into the bedroom. “Come here, Ms. Falcone, and I will wrap up this case for you. After which I will tuck you into bed and you will sleep the sleep of the righteous.”

Giulia laughed. “Frank, since when do you speak like Philo Vance?”

He grinned wider than before. “Since that’s what finally got you to laugh again. Want me to brew you some pre-measured, weak, bitter coffee?”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Smart woman.” He turned off the soccer game. “Okay, after the angels sang over the photo revelation, I headed for Blake’s. While I waited in his driveway, I called Pamela and made the angels sing for her over the photos, too.” He put his arm around her.

She started to relax.
Don’t be a marshmallow. Don’t give in.

Their reflections in the TV screen started to merge. Despite all her aches, she did not sink against him like a spineless B-movie heroine. The Giulia who’d survived the past two weeks intact mentally patted herself on the back.

Frank said, “When I hung up, I reread the last note and I swear something invisible punched me in the gut. At first read, the note was just another rant from Ms. Falke.”

Giulia tilted her head toward him. “I thought the same thing, except for that last sentence. It creeped me out.”

“But when I put the note with the photo, I realized it wasn’t a threat. It was a description.” He tried to put his other arm around her. “She—well, her brother—created the photo of you, dead, and put the Bible verses as your epitaph.”

Giulia drew away just enough to emphasize the tiny space between them. “I’m missing something. Why did he create a photo? Why not just take a picture of me, um, afterward, and send you that?” She shivered, and Frank rubbed her arms without taking advantage of her moment of remembered fear.

“I think brother Falke is smarter than anyone expected. They planned to kill you and frighten Blake into silence. If the police ever suspected them, all the photo would prove is that he’s a sick puppy who creates digital snuff pictures, not that he killed you and memorialized it. A clever lawyer could twist that into an insanity plea.”

“You mean he’d get away with it? What about now? What about everything he and Sandra did?”

“Jimmy has him for kidnapping, sexual assault, and possession of controlled substances. He had a gonzo stash of pot in his car inside a winter emergency kit. We’ll both have to testify against him, but he’ll serve time.”

“I have to face him in court?” Giulia drooped.

“Pamela probably can’t identify him for certain—the parking garage was dark. Blake will tell about the bedroom incidents, but you can testify to both. You want him to get away with it?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“All right. You’re a strong woman. You can do it.”

He shifted position and Giulia made another move away, but he pulled her closer.

“You’re not leaving me just yet, Ms. Falcone. The idea that the photo was a prediction scared the hell out of me. I peeled out of Blake’s driveway and went straight to your place. Did you know that your neighbor across the hall watches everything through her peephole?”

“It’s her hobby.”

“When I knocked on your door, she stuck out her head and said your party started an hour ago. I asked her what she meant, and she had a lot to say about the lovely blonde and the man in black holding up the singing drunk.” He snorted. “She was still passing judgment on them when I pulled out my gun and started kicking the door.”

“Your timing was impeccable, Mr. Driscoll.”

“Naturally. That’s what makes Driscoll Investigations top of the line.” He gave up trying to get her to snuggle and stood, stretching his back. “Time for you to get some sleep. I fully expect you to be at work in the morning. And I don’t want to hear any excuses about overtime on a Sunday. You don’t punch a clock.”

“I know. Assuming I still work for you. I put in as many hours as necessary to get the job done.” Giulia stuck out her tongue. “That’s what I told Sidney Saturday night.”

Frank moved to the bed and folded the comforter down to its foot. “I saw her in the audience with a tall black man. Is that the hunky boyfriend? Did you talk afterward?”

“It is. Olivier and Sidney and I had an in-depth discussion over dessert. You may have some explaining to do.”

“What? Why?”

“I told her I quit and that you’d probably promote her. I gave her a summary of the case as it stood last night.”

“Giulia, Sidney is not my kind of partner. Bubbly and eager are good qualities, but she’d drive me to violence in a month.”

Giulia stood in increments. “But think how healthy you’d be. She actually ate frozen tofu at the Garden.”

Frank shuddered. “The thought makes my tongue curl.” He pulled back the sheet and balanced Giulia’s elbow as she creaked into bed.

“Ohhh, that’s comfortable.”

Franked tucked the sheet under her chin and paused before opening the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. You’re safe now,
a ghrá.
Sleep tight.”

_____

Giulia jerked awake at the knocking on her door.

Kick harder—she has a knife—

“Wake up, lazybones.” Frank’s voice through the closed door. “All good employees are halfway to the office by now.”

She breathed again. Just a nightmare. “Be right there.” Off with the sheet. Ouch. She was stiff.

Frank barged in as soon as she turned the handle. “Move back. I have to drop this.”

Giulia’s ancient black overnight bag hit the floor. Frank walked straight to the circular table beneath the window and set a loaded tray on it.

“That was heavier than I expected.” He poured coffee from a chrome carafe into a real china cup and handed it to her. “Sit. You take it straight, right?” He sat in the opposite chair and poured a cup for himself. “The sign of a class hotel: real cream for the coffee.” He added a generous amount and drank half the cup. “Don’t stand there; come and eat. We’ve got Belgian waffles, fresh strawberries, and whipped cream—the real stuff, too. I tasted it.”

“Frank, what is all this? Where did my bag come from?” She looked like a refugee in her slept-in sweats and T-shirt. Frank looked impeccable—a modified Philo Vance. She couldn’t change without help, though. And she was certainly not asking Frank for help. Maybe Sidney...

“Giulia, you’re zoning. Drink that coffee. You need the caffeine. All this is breakfast. And your suitcase came from your apartment. After I left here last night, I called Jimmy and he sent someone over to watch me as I packed some clothes and stuff for you. Lest I abscond with the silver and the rare tomato plants.”

He was so sweet again. After all the foul things they’d said to each other the past week, the real Frank had returned. And she hadn’t even thanked him for saving her life.

“Good Lord, Giulia, why are you crying?” He stopped a forkful of waffle halfway to his mouth. “You’re not in that much pain, are you? Should I get something for it?”

“I’m sorry. I’m a wreck.” She blew her nose on a cloth napkin. “I just realized I never thanked you for yesterday. You saved my life and killed the bad guy—no, bad girl—just like in the movies.” She flexed her hands a little. “Can I take you up on the painkillers? They’re in the bathroom where you left them.”

After she swallowed two ibuprofen, she said to the worried look on Frank’s face, “By the way, I’m also upset because you went through my underwear drawer again, Mr. Driscoll. Is there nothing sacred left between men and women?”

Frank laughed. “I swear on my mother’s grave that I kept my eyes closed the entire time.”

“Frank, your mother’s not dead.”

“Okay, on my pet hamster’s grave. We buried him in the backyard when I was seven.”

Giulia gave a theatrical sigh. “I liked this conversation better when your mouth was full of waffle.”

_____

Sidney ran down the office stairs so fast she slipped, and only the handrail saved her.

“Ms. Falcone! You’re really okay! Hi, Mr. Driscoll. Ms. Falcone, you’re so pale. Mr. Driscoll told me what happened, sort of, but he woke me up and I didn’t get all of it. He just said to open the office and be careful not to touch the paint and that you’d be late because the police sealed your apartment.” She sucked in a huge breath. “I told you it would work out. I’m so happy—” She flung her arms around Giulia.

Giulia gasped. “Sidney, let go.”

Sidney jumped back and tripped on her floor-length broomstick dress. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I should’ve thought about your injuries. Who did it, Ms. Falcone? Which girlfriend?”

“Sandra Falke. Her brother was involved, too.”

Sidney closed her eyes and pointed her fingers into the air between her and Giulia like she was running down an invisible list. When her eyes opened, she said, “The one who matched everything to everything else?”

“You could describe her like that. Yes. That one.”

“Olivier didn’t think it was her. I am going to rag on him so bad for that.” Sidney clapped her hands together.

“Sidney, I think Giulia wants to get off her feet.” Frank gave a pointed look up the stairs.

“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, Ms. Falcone, I already forgot you’re all glued up.” Sidney’s hands covered her mouth, but only for an instant. “Oh, my gosh, think of the toxins. Have you ever seen the list of ingredients in disinfectants? And glue is nothing but chemicals. I bet you’re on synthetic pain meds, too. Mr. Driscoll, everything’s all set upstairs. Ms. Falcone, I’m going online right now to look for whole-herb alternatives for pain. I know you want chamomile and meadowsweet tea, and aloe as a topical healer. You’ll need a detox flush, too. Just give me a few minutes.” She ran upstairs, tie-dyed gauze fluttering around her ankles. “Wait’ll you see the flowers Mr. Parker sent you!” She darted inside, saying, “A messenger delivered them along with a big, fancy envelope for you, Mr. Driscoll.”