Second To Nun (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 2) (3 page)

Five

Giulia walked the few steps into her office and came back with a fresh legal pad out of the filing cabinet.

“Zane, you’re my expert today. What do you know about the type of ghost called the Woman in White?”

Zane got a faraway look for several seconds before he refocused on Giulia and Sidney.

“A friend of my grandmother married a widower whose first wife died in childbirth and who lost the baby as well. My grandmother’s friend had four children with her new husband. Soon after each birth, she woke up in the night to see a ghostly woman hovering over the crib and heard a faint voice singing a lullaby.”

Giulia said, “Did the ghost ever harm the mother or the children?”

“Giulia,” Sidney said.

“No,” Zane said.

“That makes the Stone’s Throw ghost a different type,” Giulia said. “Sidney, don’t wail at me again. It’s unprofessional to rule out any possibility before examining the evidence.”

“At least something today makes logical sense,” Sidney said.

Giulia pretended not to hear. “Zane, do you have any stories of angry ghosts?”

“One, but it’s way out there. My grandmother also told us about her oldest son, one of my uncles. He was a party animal in college. Liked to get drunk four nights out of seven. His grades tanked and he was about to get kicked out of school. One night he stumbled up the stairs to his frat house and the door wouldn’t open. He fished out his key and scraped it on the door until he found the lock, and it still wouldn’t budge. He banged and shouted and suddenly, bam! The door flew wide open, knocking him flat on his back. He looked up and saw his dead father looming over him. His father’s hair was undulating in all directions, his face was chalk-white, and his eyes were sunken, but my uncle could see pupils burning with red flames. The ghost didn’t say anything out loud, but my uncle swore he heard its voice in his head, threatening to make his life a living hell if he didn’t shape up.”

He took a breath. Sidney stirred in her chair, restlessness in every movement.

Zane spoke more to Giulia now. “Here’s the thing: Our family moved to America twenty years before this story happened and worked hard to assimilate. My uncle knew maybe a dozen words in Estonian, most of them scatological. He taught them to us when our grandmother wasn’t around. He told us this story when my brothers and sisters and I were between eight and twelve. He swore up and down that his father’s ghost spoke right inside his head in Estonian and he understood every word. He said as soon as the ghost vanished he crawled to the edge of the porch and puked all over the bushes. Later on, when it was just the boys of the family, he confided that he also ruined his boxers, if you get me.”

“Zane, no offense,” Sidney said, “but that story sounds like something deliberately manufactured to make you kids stay away from alcohol.”

“We thought so at first. We were cynical little brats. My oldest sister and I researched ghost legends and cornered our uncle a week later with our findings. He vowed on the heads of the gods the story was true. He went through the legends we showed him and described the ways his experience differed.” Zane shrugged. “He didn’t change from a party guy into a monk or anything extreme like that, but he did graduate with a 3.1 GPA and two job offers.”

“Speaking as devil’s advocate,” Giulia said, “perhaps your grandmother planned it to get her son back on track and convinced one of her other sons to play ghost?”

“We thought of that too. My uncle said his father’s ghost hovered over him like that angry mom ghost in
Ju-On
. Have you seen that movie?”

“No way,” Sidney said. “I like to sleep at night.”

“Wuss,” Giulia said. “I saw it in a double feature with
Ringu
. Zane, your uncle’s ghost story occurred before those movies came out, right?”

“Decades before. He said that hovering ghost in
Ju-On
scared him almost as much as the actual ghost that night on the porch.” Zane spread his hands. “That’s all I got.”

Giulia stood. “So despite my personal lack of experience, ghosts possibly exist. In the opposite corner, because of Sidney’s lack of personal experience, ghosts do not exist. Neither choice negates the possibility that a live human could be playing poltergeist in that lighthouse. I’m still going in with a hypothesis of greedy psychic is greedy. Thanks for the crash course in hauntings. Can you carve out an hour to dig a little deeper into those two?”

Zane checked his onscreen schedule. “I can between four and five. I think tonight’s group game night will include Call of Duty: Ghosts. For some reason, I’m in the mood.”

Sidney shivered. “I’m going home and playing with Jessamine for two hours straight as soon as Jane gets here.”

Giulia snapped her fingers. “Jane. I knew there was something else on my to-do list. If she shows up, don’t let her into my office until I open the door.”

She sat in her desk chair and soaked in the atmosphere of the room. The linen-lookalike curtains rippled in the breeze. The soft lemon walls evoked morning sunshine. She loved the design of this space, a combination of restful colors and business efficiency. Her focus shifted away from ghosts and psychics and Tarot cards. Now that Sidney was back part-time from maternity leave, Jane’s temporary employment as Sidney’s replacement would end in two weeks. Giulia knew an excellent full-time job fit for Jane, and had the power to all but make it happen.

She picked up the phone and called the Ninth Precinct, but not to talk to her husband.

“Captain Reilly, please…Jimmy? It’s Giulia. You know how you’re always trying to lure me into working for you? Let me tell you about my temp.”

Six

Giulia finished explaining to Jimmy what an asset Jane would be to the Ninth Precinct. It wasn’t even one thirty and her “Must Complete Now” task list had quadrupled. Well, complaining wouldn’t get anything done. Lunch would. She got up for probably the last time today and opened her door.

“Anyone going—Hi, Jane.”

Sidney was eating something natural on whole wheat at her desk. Zane was gone. Jane had a brown bag in hand.

“Bad timing. Not you, Jane. My multitasking. What’s up?”

“Developments on the insurance fraud case.”

Giulia waved her through the open doorway. “My office? I just need to get some lunch up here.”

Jane followed Giulia in and closed the door. Giulia called downstairs to Common Grounds, the coffee and lunch shop, and ordered the special with a Coke.

“I’m all yours, Jane. Go ahead and eat.”

This Jane was slightly mellower than the Jane of three months ago who’d bristled at any perceived slight and plastered makeup over her tattoos. She stood taller and smiled now and then. Giulia attributed that to steady employment and Jane’s discovery of an unexpected talent at shadowing people.

Today emerald streaks embellished her black hair. Her green sleeveless shirt picked up the highlights. She pulled a four-by-six spiral-bound notebook out of her backpack.

“I won’t eat until I report, Ms. D. I need my notes to summarize. Our middle-aged husband went to his stockbroker job as usual. His charming wife entertained guests, relaxed in her garden, and otherwise was an ornament to the neighborhood.”

Giulia frowned. “That’s no help to us.”

“It gets better. Tonight they’re invited to a political fundraiser. Three hundred bucks a plate. If she’s going to wear her supposedly stolen diamonds, it’ll be then.”

“We need pictures.”

“Already on it. I borrowed a swanky party dress from my sister. You should see the updo wig I found. I look positively middle class in it.”

“Make sure you keep track of your hours. I’m sure you’ve worked more than twenty this week.”

“You bet.” Jane hesitated. “Would you write a reference letter for me? When we finish this insurance fraud business I’ve got to start job hunting again.”

“Of course. You’ve been terrific. I’m going to miss you.”

Jane smiled. “Zane gave me an open-ended invitation to join his gamer crowd. You’ll still hear my name once in a while.”

Sidney knocked and opened. “Nine bucks with tip, please.” She set a Coke and a plastic container with a sandwich and salad on Giulia’s desk.

Giulia handed her the money.

“I’m out of here,” Sidney said. “Jessamine has a checkup tomorrow morning, so I’ll be in after that.”

“Sounds good,” Giulia said to her, then to Jane: “Go eat. Shoo. Excellent work. I’ve got a thousand items to plow through and no time for fun things like conversation.” As Jane opened the door, Giulia called her back. “I’m going out of town early tomorrow afternoon. Can you be in here by ten to let me know what happened at the fundraiser?”

Jane wilted, but rallied a moment later. “I’ll set two alarms.”

Giulia ripped several pages from the legal pad and spread them out on her desk. One she labeled “Cheating Husband,” the next “Insurance Fraud,” the third “Diocesan Retainer,” and the fourth “Haunted Lighthouse.”

She stabbed a plastic fork into the Caesar salad. “I need to clone myself.”

Since that wasn’t about to happen in the near or far future, she turned her usual business methods upside down and started out of order with the Diocesan Retainer.

Okay, she’d lied about not getting out of her chair. To take care of that item, she needed the file from Sidney’s desk. Chewing on a bite of ham and pepper jack on wheat, she found the fluorescent green folder in the middle slot of Sidney’s inbox.

Back at her own desk, she read the two-page contract twice. Ever since she and Frank had quietly taken care of a massive drug-dealing scandal at Giulia’s old convent, the Diocese of Pittsburgh had made DI their preferred digger of dirt. It made perfect sense to convince the Diocese to agree to a monthly retainer.

Zane returned. Giulia called him in. He put on an innocent expression when he saw the open green folder.

“Say it,” Giulia said.

“You’ve been spinning your wheels on the final retainer version for days,” he said. “You don’t usually take this long to make a decision.”

“I don’t trust the Diocese’s lawyer. He was in the first senior class I taught thirteen years ago. He was underhanded at age seventeen and he didn’t seem to have changed much at our retainer negotiation meetings.”

“You trust our lawyer, don’t you?”

“I have to. He’s one of my brothers-in-law.” Giulia sat back in her chair. “Besides, Mom Driscoll would never raise a dishonest son.”

“You married into a useful family.” Zane crossed his arms. “It resolves to one question: Do you have any reason not to sign this retainer?”

Giulia hesitated only a fraction of a second. “No.” She signed all three copies of the last page and jogged all the pages together. “This is as good as we can make it. The church might think it’s getting the better part of this deal, but they don’t have to make a budget stretch to cover rent, salaries, and health insurance every month. A guaranteed monthly income is like having a birthday present every thirty days.” She handed the folder to Zane. “Please write a cover letter and courier this to the Bishop’s office for their countersignatures.”

“Your hardworking staff agrees about the monthly birthday present.” Zane patted the folder and headed to his computer.

Next ball in her juggling performance: The cheating scumbag, also known as Flynt. She connected her phone to her computer and uploaded the surreptitious photos she’d taken after her phony job interview.

Flynt leaning on the receptionist’s desk as Giulia crossed the lobby. Her own fingers as she palmed the phone for a better angle. Flynt handing the receptionist a cup of tea. She’d tried to refuse it but he pushed it into her hand, prolonging the contact of his fingers on top of hers.

Giulia repeatedly held down the button to take several pictures in rapid succession. Her targets shifted in and out of frame as she’d pretended to search for her car keys. Flynt then pulled his own undercover stunt. He appeared to walk away, but as he passed behind the receptionist he trailed his fingers up her arm and rested his hand on the back of her neck.

“Thank you, Saint Veronica.” Giulia enlarged one beautiful, slightly off-kilter picture of Flynt’s middle finger stroking up into the receptionist’s hairline.

She opened the ongoing report for her client, Flynt’s wife, and inserted that photo uncropped.

Not enough.

She checked the spreadsheet she’d created of Flynt’s usual weekly schedule. Bingo. Golf every Friday morning. If Flynt didn’t change his pattern, she could wrap up this case tomorrow afternoon. The pantyhose-and-suit torture would not be squandered.

Her fingers pounded the keys as she summarized five weeks of work, inserting placeholders on the last two pages for tomorrow’s coup de grâce photos.

Zane poked his head around the doorframe. “Ready for DI’s version of
The Scoop
?”

Seven

Giulia held her pen ready to write. “Let’s see. What would make that slimy TMZ-wannabe local TV show sit up and beg? Rowan is an undercover Homeland Security agent and Jasper’s prosthetic hand secretly records every Tarot reading for code words?”

Zane stared at her, unblinking, for a long second.

For the umpteenth time, Giulia reminded herself that Zane was still adjusting to working in a casual atmosphere with humans, not in telemarketing hell micromanaged by angry demons recently passed over for promotion.

“You have to admit
The Scoop
would kill during sweeps week with that story. What did you discover?”

After one more second, Zane said, “Rowan’s been married four times. Number three is the real reason the mall developer hiked the rent to force all those small businesses to shut down. The developer claimed Rowan stole her husband, so she convinced her company to locate the mall right on top of Rowan’s business.”

Giulia held up a finger, finished a sentence, and said, “A little tame for
The Scoop
.”

“That was Act One. In Act Two, Rowan’s husband divorces her and remarries the developer.”

“This is where I say that perhaps a good Tarot reader might have seen this coming if she ever did a reading for herself.” Giulia made a wry face. “But that would be judgmental.”

Zane winked. Giulia considered that a sign of hope.

“Rowan moved to Cottonwood after the divorce,” he continued, “and opened the shop across the street with her nephew, Jasper.”

“Wait. You said four husbands.”

“I did. Rowan’s fourth is one of Jasper’s fellow explosive experts who now runs an Army-Navy surplus store unhindered by his artificial legs, plural. Before you ask, he’s ten years older than Jasper. Rowan is seventy-four. Jasper is thirty.”

“True love?”

“More like true beef bourguignon. I compared his photo in the newspaper at his store’s grand opening with one of his Memorial Day TV commercials. He’s at least forty pounds heavier now.”

“Zane, you made a joke. No, no, stop looking guilty. I’m always pleased when you get a little more comfortable working here.”

The blush stuck on Zane’s cheeks. “So anyway, Rowan’s still paying off three separate divorce lawyer debts. The mortgage on their house is in her husband’s name, but the payments are on time.”

“I disagree with your earlier assessment.” Giulia smiled up at him. “
The Scoop
likes dirt. This skirts the edges of heartwarming.”

He shook his head. “On the surface. He drinks. She’s got a bunch of rich women on the hook.”

Giulia reread the last paragraph. “As con artists go, I’ve seen worse.”

Zane’s eyebrows rose. “If this really was an episode of
The Scoop
,
everything I’ve described would turn out to be the front of Rowan and Jasper’s two-man operation to bleed those rich women.”

Giulia did not let one centimeter of her internal grin appear. “Does your assessment arise from a new film noir game on Steam or too many late nights of
CSI
reruns?”

He ducked his head, hiding his eyes beneath his hair. “Binge-watching
Columbo
on Netflix.”

Giulia did chuckle at that. Zane’s throaty baritone could double for Columbo as well as Sam Spade.

“Okay, then. Whether Rowan is a gifted Tarot reader or a fraud is irrelevant for our purpose. She has enough financial reasons to be frightening her old sorority sister into abandoning her waterfront property. What about the nephew? Is he parlaying his war hero status into a charming and sympathetic lure for rich women and Mac as well?”

Zane rocked one hand back and forth. “Still working on him. He’s for real, though: Has a Purple Heart. His debt is minimal. His degree is in engineering, but he’s never used it. No significant other. He hunts in season and knows a lot about single malts. Sees a VA shrink for PTSD.”

Giulia frowned. “Good-looking, heroic, eligible male with minimal flaws. No wonder his aunt’s shop has giggling teenage girl clientele.” She tapped her pen on the yellow paper. “I’m not cynical enough to believe a war hero is running a con with his eccentric elderly aunt. But I might have to be.”

“Let me dig some more,” Zane said. “How long will you be here tomorrow?”

“At least through lunch. The stars need to align for me to catch Flynt with his current mistress tomorrow morning, so I can finish that report, add pictures, and call in Flynt’s wife. Plus Jane’s insurance fraud case, plus anything else that may walk through the door.”

“At least it’s never boring,” Zane said.