Force of Habit: A Falcone & Driscoll Investigation (8 page)

“Tell him that some women ovulate on penetration, too.”

“Good God. I didn’t know that.”

“One of the perks of teaching Sex Ed.”

“I’ll spring that one on him at the next opportunity. That’ll be four bucks for the enlargements.”

“Your day’s been more interesting than mine, and thank you for not commenting on my face.”

He practically whimpered. “It’s killing me not to. You’re always so quiet and nondescript. Wait—I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I mean, uh, that you, uh...”

She wanted to wince, but the thought of the lurking pain stopped her. “Don’t worry. I know I’m not going to be the next Victoria’s Secret model. I took a self-defense class last night and my partner didn’t pull his punch.”

“Man. I hope you got your money back.”

“I did. But I’m avoiding mirrors for a few days.”

“At least you weren’t discussing vaginal fluids at seven-fifteen this morning.”

“Giulia?”

She looked around the filing cabinets. “Hey, Mingmei. What brings you up here?”

“A messenger or something left this for you before lunch. We got busy, and I must’ve just missed seeing him. Or her. I couldn’t get it up to you till now.”

Giulia took the brown-wrapped shoebox from Mingmei’s hands. “Did you know the new chef’s aprons would look so good with your purple hair?” She made a complete circle around Ming-
mei. “And do I point out that they’re—ahem—coffee-colored?”

Sidney giggled. “Well, duh, Ms. Falcone.” Her mouth shut with a click of teeth. “Oh—I didn’t mean to sound rude. I’m sorry. It sounded like a joke—I apologize.”

“Sidney, relax.” Giulia smiled. “It was a joke. You’re fine.” Sidney’s brown eyes returned to their normal wide-eyed state.

Mingmei snorted. “A lame joke, too.”

“You have no appreciation of subtle humor. If you’d only read something besides
MAD
magazine—”

“Which is a classic of the comedic art.”

“Let’s stop before we come to blows and Sidney has to separate us.” Giulia hefted the shoebox. Weighed about a pound. “I wonder why the messenger didn’t deliver this to me?”

Mingmei shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t see your nameplate next to the door. We had ours propped open because it got wicked hot. I thought I heard a voice asking for Driscoll’s, but I was behind the counter, so when whoever it was left it on one of the tables, I couldn’t stop them.”

Giulia set it on Sidney’s desk. Smudged return address. She wasn’t sure she’d have the guts to pick it up again. Sidney and Mingmei were staring at her, and she forced a smile.

“It doesn’t matter. Frank told me we’d be getting a delivery today.”
Liar. Confession this Saturday. Without fail.

Mingmei poked Sidney’s swimmer bobblehead. “Cute. You?”

Sidney grinned. “First place, 400 free relay, Big Ten championship.”

“Wow. I’m impressed. I swim like a rock: straight down.”

Sidney’s face conveyed that she had just encountered an alien life form. “You can’t swim, Mingmei? Really? That’s terrible. Everyone should know how to swim. What if someone you love needed help? Here—” She reached beneath her desk and opened her messenger bag. “I teach kid and adult classes at the Y all summer, weeknights and Sundays.” She handed her a brochure. “It’s only thirty dollars for six weeks if you’re a member. All the parents say I’m a real patient teacher.”

Mingmei’s blue-tinted eyelashes blinked at a rapid pace. “Um, thanks, Sidney. I’ll check my schedule.”

Another brochure appeared in Sidney’s hand. “Ms. Falcone?”

“Been swimming since I was ten.”

“Good.”

Mingmei slid the brochure into her apron pocket. “Giulia, I forgot to tell you that someone was asking about you guys the other day.”

“For business? Why didn’t he come upstairs?”

“She. You weren’t open yet. She wanted to have you guys check out a new personal assistant she was thinking of hiring. Wondered if I knew anything about you people.”

“Ah, the upper class.”

“You know it. She looked rich and dressed it, too: blonde, tall, fancy linen coat, fancy makeup, perfect hair, shoes that cost more than I make in a month.”

“Good. Sounds like easy money for us.”

“I never thought you’d be mercenary.” Mingmei looked at Sidney. “A promotion can corrupt the best of us.”

Sidney laughed.

Giulia said, “Oh, how I long to work with you again and give up eight hours a day with my polite, eager, funny officemate. Really.” Giulia faked a glare at Mingmei. “By the way, shame on you for making this poor woman buy me coffee.”

“Sidney, did it work? Was she nice to you?”

“I am always nice.” Giulia pointed to the door. “You may leave now. I resent these slurs on my character.”

“You know what they say about these ex-nuns, Sidney.”

Sidney’s mouth opened. “No. What? Tell me.”

Giulia shook a finger at Mingmei. “I’ll get you for this. Confusing the innocent. Think of purgatory.”

“Not Catholic, doesn’t apply, ha ha.”

Giulia blew a raspberry at Mingmei, and she left. Then Giulia picked up the box, went into Frank’s office without knocking, and closed the door behind her.

_____

Giulia stared at the Barbie doll in the shoebox. “Why are her wrists handcuffed?” It also wore a brown, curly wig, exaggerated makeup, and a passable imitation of lingerie she’d seen in a
Cosmo
“Better Sex” article.

Frank lifted the doll’s arms. “Why the slutty underwear?”

“Frank.”

“There’s no other word for it, Giulia. Nice girls don’t wear bras with the nipples cut out and open-crotch panties. I didn’t know you could get the legs to pose like that.”

Never in this or any other lifetime did Giulia think she’d be standing next to her—male—boss discussing X-rated underwear.

The phone rang. A moment later, Sidney buzzed Frank’s intercom.

“It’s a Mr. Parker on one, Mr. Driscoll. He sounds kind of upset.”

Frank looked at Giulia. “Let’s hope it’s just another pomegranate.” He took a deep breath and straightened his tie before he picked up the receiver. “Frank here, Blake. What can I—”

Giulia watched his face take on that soothing look he’d used on Blake in the office three days earlier.

“In her mailbox? What was it dressed like?... I see. You too?... Oh. Of course... No, no, I’ll come by and pick them up. Can Ms. van Alstyne bring hers to your condo today?... Yes, with the camera. I’ll be there after seven... We’ll discuss it then. Right.”

He set the receiver into its cradle and fell into his chair. “He got a Ken doll in a bridegroom outfit, complete with two wedding rings. She got her own Barbie. No handcuffs. I didn’t get exact details of the outfit, or lack thereof. The Perfect Fiancée apparently indulged in some shrillness.” He dropped his head into his hands. “If this weren’t so important, it’d be funny. Those two are utterly unprepared for this kind of love/hate intensity.”

Giulia snapped her fingers. “Frank, the doll distracted us. Where’s the note?” She turned over the lid. “Nothing in here. Can I pick her up?”

“Go ahead. I don’t need more fingerprints. Did I tell you I sent the ones we got to a friend in D.C. to check?”

“Why not here?”

“Because Blake doesn’t want police involvement yet, remember? My D.C. friend owes me a favor, so he’s running the check on the QT.”

The note lay beneath the doll.

“ ‘Woe to you who are clever in your own sight. At every street you degrade your beauty, offering your body with increasing promiscuity to anyone who passes by.’ ” Giulia dropped the note like it singed her hand. “This is not in the Bible. Not like this. She’s corrupting the text to suit her own hate.”

Frank whistled. “I can just imagine what Pamela’s said. No wonder she had hysterics... wait a minute.” He searched his center drawer. “According to Blake, they found their dolls about half an hour apart. He gave me the time stamps from the cameras.”

“Cameras. Rats. I forgot to tell you. Mingmei said a tall, rich-looking blonde stopped in there and asked about us.”

“Us? You and me?”

“No. Sorry. About Driscoll Investigations. If only they used a security camera downstairs.”

“When? What did she say? What did she look like?” Frank found a piece of paper and wrote several bullet points.

“Before we opened. According to Mingmei’s description, she could only have been one of the exes. She was tall and blonde, and wore expensive clothes.” Giulia stared at the Barbie. “She gave Mingmei a story about needing a background check on a personal assistant.”

“Flimsy excuse. Did she think we wouldn’t hear about it?” He wrote. “No, of course not. She let us know that she’s on to us.”

“Our plastic friend here told us that.”

Frank jumped up. “You’re right. What if she tried to jimmy the lock?” He threw open his door and strode to the main door.

“Mr. Driscoll? Is something wrong?” Sidney half-rose.

Giulia squatted beside Frank. “No, Sidney, nothing’s wrong yet. Anything, Frank?”

Frank ran his fingers over the strike plate. “Can’t see any scratches. Can’t feel any, either. No wax residue, so she didn’t try to make an impression of the keyhole.” He stood, stumbling on his right leg.

Giulia put her hands on his arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing. Ever since they put pins and screws into my leg, I have trouble getting up from that position.”

“Were you in an accident, Mr. Driscoll?” Sidney sank into her chair.

“Back when I was a cop.” Frank rubbed his kneecap. “We were on a high-speed chase. Someone ignored the siren and plowed into our passenger side—and me—at an intersection.”

“Ooh.” Sidney cringed.

“Three months and two surgeries later, my choice was desk job or new career.” He grinned at Sidney. “Now instead of a precinct that has ten men to every woman, I have a matched set of lovely servants.”

Giulia and Sidney burst into speech at the same moment.

“Frank, you sexist pig!”

“Mr. Driscoll, how can you say that?”

Frank didn’t answer right away, possibly because he was laughing too hard to catch a breath.

“You—you should see—your faces.”

“Sidney, I vote we stage a walkout right now.” Giulia stalked to her desk and took her purse out of the bottom drawer. “Ready? We’ll see how he does without his ‘lovely servants’ for the rest of the day.”

Frank spread-eagled himself across the door. “Insubordination. You’ll regret such willful actions.”

Sidney hovered by her chair, shifting from one foot to the other.

Giulia sat in her chair and crossed her legs. “You might be more imposing if you didn’t try to threaten and laugh at the same time.”

“All right—all right.” Frank took a deep, shaky breath. “But you both looked like something out of a silent movie. Righteous indignation and the rights of women.” He bowed to them. “I throw myself on the magnanimity of my invaluable—and equal in all human senses of the word—assistants.”

“Should we draw upon our innate nobility and relent, Sidney?”

“Um, I guess, um, if you say so, Ms. Falcone.”

“Very well. Frank, you are pardoned. Although a little groveling would have been preferable.”

He straightened, giving his leg one last knead. “You would’ve had to help me up. I did want to retain my last shred of dignity.”

Giulia returned her purse to the drawer. “Where’s a video camera when you really need one?”

Frank stopped in the middle of the room. “Camera. Deliveries. We have to check something. Come in here, Giulia.”

He dug his Pennsylvania atlas out of the bottom file drawer in his office and opened it to Cottonwood. “Blake lives on Fairfield. That’s here. Pamela lives on Hunter’s Court. That’s six miles southwest, if you could travel in a straight line. If I believe Blake,” he pulled a folded sticky note out of his pocket, “he found his box at 5:25, and Pamela’s cook found hers at close to 6:00.” He frowned. “If she drove, she could have used the Turnpike. These times are before the morning rush, which would be perfect for someone not used to a daily commute. That is, if we keep to our idea that one of the exes is making the deliveries.”

“Who else would one of them trust? I can’t picture Isabel taking her sister away from her wedding plans to deliver rotting pomegranates.”

“Or Sandra calling her manicurist for help dressing the Barbie.”

The image made Giulia chuckle. “They must have done it on their own. I’m sure the cars they possess are powerful enough to make it door to door in plenty of time.” She looked at her box. “Wait. What about a delivery service?”

Frank’s head snapped sideways at her. “Yes. No. A delivery service would keep records. She wouldn’t risk it.”

“But Mingmei was sure that a messenger delivered the Barbie doll.” Giulia stopped herself. “Not thinking. She could’ve stolen—I mean surreptitiously borrowed—the clothes from one of the servants. Would someone of their social class stoop to theft?”

“Someone of their social class is slicing snakes and perverting childhood dolls.” He made notes on the collage of Giulia’s enlargements taped to the wall. “Did I tell you that making these copies of the case documents is a good idea? It’s like a tactile flow chart.”