Nun Too Soon (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 1)

by Alice Loweecey

  “No problem. Watch out for him, though.” She indicated Fitch with her head.

  Firefighter Fabio said, “He’d be pretty stupid to try anything in front of all these witnesses.”

  Fitch ordered them to perform a physically impossible act. The firefighters laughed.

  “Okay, ma’am, here we go.”

  Fabio took hold of Giulia’s arms. Ibanez leaned into the car and sliced through the seat belt across her hips first. She braced her legs against the center panel, swallowing the stab of pain in her knee.

  Ibanez cut apart the shoulder harness and Fabio’s grip was all that stopped Giulia from crashing onto Fitch. Ibanez wrapped his arms around her legs and the two men hauled her out into the open.

  “Of course. A ladder.” Giulia made a wry face. “I should’ve wondered how you could reach me so easily.”

  They carried her several feet north of the car.

  “You should get those bruises looked at, ma’am,” Fabio said. “I’ll send the EMTs over.”

  When they set her on the ground her knee buckled, but she recovered right away. Not before Frank saw it.

  He cut off his conversation with his partner and ran over. “What’s wrong with your knee—dammit.” He touched her cheekbone and she flinched away. “What did that bastard do to you?”

  “I wouldn’t obey his orders. He didn’t like it.” She got a death grip on his arm. “Frank, don’t. He can’t fight back, remember? I broke his wrists.”

  He stopped trying to break away. “You did? Really? He wasn’t exaggerating?”

  Giulia shook her head and sighed with feeling. “O ye of little faith.”

  Nash VanHorne, Frank’s partner, came up in time to hear Giulia’s reply. “Giulia, you’ve got to teach me some of those Bible comebacks to use on my kid sisters.”

  An EMT came over and made Giulia sit on the grass. She worked her hands into disposable gloves and palpated Giulia’s cheek and lip.

  “Not too bad. He missed your eye, so you won’t look like a raccoon for a week.” She snapped open an instant cold pack and placed it on Giulia’s cheek. “Hold that while I fix your mouth. This is going to feel cold.”

  She dabbed a swab soaked in something medicinal on Giulia’s split lip.

  Giulia inhaled sharply. “That stings like a dozen bees.”

  “Yeah. I lied.” The EMT smiled. “You took it like a fighter. Keep that ice on at least twenty minutes every hour, then swap it out for heat tomorrow. Got any arnica gel?”

  “No, but my admin will. She’ll be thrilled to preach the gospel of nature to me again.”

  “I’m with her. Use the arnica on your face. The bruise will heal quicker.”

  Behind them, Fitch started yelling at everyone in sight.

  The EMT rolled her eyes. “He’s going to be so much fun. You hurt your knee, too?”

  “That one over there hit it with his gun.”

  “What a charmer. I’ve either got to ruin your jeans to treat it or all these guys get to see your underwear.”

  “Sacrifice the jeans, please.”

  “I thought you’d say that.” She cut open the jeans on Giulia’s right leg with scissors. “Hmm.” She palpated the kneecap and both sides, then activated another cold pack. “I’ve got pink tape and green tape today.”

  “Green. I’m not feeling particularly feminine at the moment.”

  The EMT chuckled and strapped the tape around the ice pack and Giulia’s knee.

  “Get an x-ray this afternoon,” she said, packing up. “I don’t think it’s more than another bruise, but never mess with your knees.”

  “I will,” Giulia said. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. You were easy. Now I earn my pay.”

  Screeching tires drowned out Fitch’s voice. Giulia and the EMT turned toward it in unison.

  “Oh, no.”

  “What?” the EMT said. “Oh. The ambulance chasers had their police scanner on.”

  The Scoop’s white van skidded off the road and stopped on the grass. Both doors opened at the same time. The camera’s spotlight swung wildly across the faces of the group around the fire truck as the cameraman ran down the culvert and up the other side. Kanning waited ’til he got onto flatter ground before bringing up his microphone.

  “Ken Kanning here for The Scoop.” His voice bounced as he ran. “We’re center stage at the Silk Tie Killer’s latest crime.”

  For an instant the smorgasbord of potential interviewees appeared to paralyze him. Then he spotted Giulia.

  “Mrs. Falcone-Driscoll.” He vaulted over to her. “We rushed here to get your story as it happens.”

  Giulia turned her face away from the camera. God, if you’ll show me what sin I committed to rate this ongoing punishment, I promise never to repeat it.

  “Back off, Kanning,” the EMT said. “I’ve got injured people to treat.”

  Kanning barreled on as though the EMT hadn’t spoken. “Scoopers, brave Giulia Falcone-Driscoll sustained terrible injuries in her successful battle with the Silk Tie Killer. Look at this courageous woman.”

  The camera moved in for a close-up.

  “Look at the beating she endured. See the bruises, the blood! This is the face of a woman who risked her life in the cause of justice.” Kanning photobombed the shot. “Remember our promise, Scoopers: If we’re ever wrong, we’re ready to admit it. This is one of those rare times.”

  He switched the mike to his left hand and held out his right. “Congratulations. You sure had us convinced you were trying to pervert justice instead of uphold it.”

  Giulia didn’t shake his hand.

  “Mrs. Falcone-Driscoll, everyone’s waiting to hear your harrowing story. The Scoopers are on the edges of their seats.” He stuck the mike in her face.

  From the treeline, Roger Fitch yelled, “I’ll sue you for police brutality!”

  Kanning’s head snapped around. He jerked it toward the Fitch tableau and The Scoop deserted Giulia for bigger prey.

  The police couldn’t restrain Fitch’s broken wrists, so they had cuffed his ankles. Only the assistance of two police officers kept him still long enough for the other EMT to apply splints. When the EMT finished, he hefted the strapping tape and glared at Fitch’s flapping mouth. That shut him up for half a minute.

  Giulia’s EMT packed up her supplies. “What a douchenozzle.”

  “Kanning or Fitch?”

  “Do I have to decide?”

  Giulia laughed and a moment later pressed a hand to her face. “Ow.”

  While Kanning grilled Fitch, the police photographer finished taking pictures of the car, the chewed-up grass, and the skid marks on the road. Now he stepped back. With creaks and groans and metal scraping against metal, the firefighters tipped the Buick back onto its wheels. It bounced a few times then settled, listing to one side where the crash had blown out a tire.

  More photos. The smell of gasoline filled the air and Fitch struggled to get up. Two sets of hands on his shoulders held him down.

  “Spray it down! Don’t let the trunk catch on fire! Let me up, you—”

  Frank and VanHorne looked at each other. The firefighters coated the entire car with chemical spray, waited, sprayed it again, and waited some more. The chief got flat on the foam-covered grass and inspected the undercarriage, then walked all around it.

  “Go ahead,” he said to Frank and VanHorne. “It wasn’t going to go up, but we like to make sure.”

  VanHorne reached inside the car for the switch and popped open the trunk.

  Frank raised it all the way. “Well, well, well. Close out a few bank accounts today, Fitch?”

  “You’ll never see that much in your lifetime, cop! I busted my hump for that cash. You can impound it, but I’ll beat this murder charge and it’ll be mine again.”

  The police photographer snapped more pictures. Kanning’s cameraman squeezed in next to him until Frank ordered him away. Kanning’s commentary ran nonstop.

  Giulia limped over to the Fitch g
rouping. “You said all three of you stole that money—you, Loriela Gil, and Leonard Tulley.”

  Fitch waved a splint at her. She repressed a laugh at the failure of his grandiose dismissive gesture.

  “Do you really think I’m going to fall for that? I’m not saying another word ’til Colby Petit gets here.”

  “Thank God for small favors,” the uniformed police officer said.

  Forty-Three

  Colby Petit arrived breathless at the precinct as Giulia was reading over her statement, leg propped on a spare chair.

  “Ms. Driscoll? Where’s Roger? What happened?”

  Giulia tried hard to keep her voice professional. “Here’s the short version: Your client kidnapped me at gunpoint, forced me to drive him to Settlers Cabin Park, took a stab at pistol-whipping me, and is now in a holding cell. If you listen, you can hear him screaming for you amidst the other voices back there.”

  He stared at her without moving until Fitch’s voice rose above the holding cell chaos: “Let my lawyer in here, you bastards!”

  Petit startled into action. “I—that is—I’ll go talk to him. May I ask you some questions when I come out?”

  Giulia shook her head. “I don’t think so. You’ll have to hear about it when I get on the witness stand.”

  Petit turned greenish. Then he ran to the door to the holding area. A cacophony of angry voices flooded the room. Fitch still managed to be the loudest.

  Giulia signed the statement and gave it back to VanHorne. “Looks good. I think it’s time I got this knee x-rayed.”

  Frank came through the door from the interrogation rooms. “You’ll never guess who I’ve been talking to.”

  “Too tired for guessing games. I want ibuprofen and more ice.”

  Frank came around behind her and massaged her shoulders. “Leonard Tulley.”

  Giulia paused in the midst of melting against his chest. “You’re kidding. Why? How?”

  “Relax. Don’t undo this shoulder rub. He came in about an hour ago, Jimmy says, looking like David Beckham on a breakaway with the entire New York Red Bulls team after him. Says his half of the money he and Fitch stole from two different workplaces vanished from their checking accounts. He called your office and heard you were headed to Fitch’s.”

  “That shouldn’t have meant anything to him.”

  “You forget about guilt. Apparently Tulley isn’t cut out for a criminal career. He came with a lawyer in tow and wants to deal. One of the state lawyers is in with them now.”

  Giulia’s eyes closed and she said in a slow voice, “He’s going to expose everything he and Loriela and Fitch did in exchange for no death penalty option at his trial.”

  Frank’s hands stopped. “Death penalty?”

  “Your hands are not on break, please. Thank you. Did you forget my brilliant deduction last night? I said that Fitch got Tulley to kill Loriela. During our car trip today, Fitch practically confessed to it.”

  “Who is he? Svengali?” VanHorne said.

  Giulia said, “Perhaps. Tulley is singing in the other room, in one sense.”

  VanHorne groaned.

  “Sorry. Blame the stress reaction.” She opened her eyes to see Frank looking from VanHorne to her, puzzled. “Classic book and movie. Svengali hypnotizes Trilby, who can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and makes her a great singer. It all goes wrong, of course, in the same way Fitch’s ascendance over Tulley has bit Fitch in the butt.” She patted Frank’s hands and lifted them off her shoulders. “We need a movie night. Your education has been neglected.”

  “Good. You find that and I’ll look for an explosions-and-boobs action film you haven’t seen.”

  Giulia concealed her sigh. “Deal. I require a trip to the emergency room for an x-ray now, please.”

  “At your service.” Frank helped her out of her chair. She hobbled on his arm out to the front entrance.

  “Frank. Wait.” Captain Jimmy Reilly ran up to them. “The lawyers finished bargaining. Get this—Tulley confessed to the murder of Loriela Gil, but claims Fitch masterminded the whole thing. Says Fitch showed him the easiest way up their balcony, promised to get her drunk and set up the neckties, bought the glass cutter, everything. Says Gil led him on and Fitch worked on him ’til he wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Giulia batted her eyes at Frank.

  “Jimmy, you’re killing me,” Frank said. “Giulia figured that out last night. I’m losing my status as superior thinker in this marriage.”

  Jimmy laughed. “I’m on Giulia’s side. You know that. Let me open the door for you.”

  Giulia clutched the iron railing. “I can make it,” she said to Frank.

  “I’m going to prepare a statement for the legitimate news,” Jimmy said. “I’m already getting phone calls.”

  The glare of a spotlight made Giulia throw her free hand in front of her eyes.

  “Ken Kanning here for The Scoop! You got away from us at the scene, but our viewers are still waiting for the blow-by-blow account of your capture of the Silk Tie Killer.” He pushed the microphone into Giulia’s chin.

  Frank loomed over Kanning. “Remove that microphone.”

  Kanning attempted a charming smile. “Come on, Detective. Everyone loves a gutsy heroine. Especially a pretty one like Mrs. Driscoll.”

  Jimmy came down the stairs. “Kanning, get off police property.”

  “Captain, the press has universal access to—”

  “Get off police property and stop harassing Mrs. Driscoll.”

  “Or what?”

  Jimmy held out a hand to Frank, palm up. Frank slapped his phone into it. Jimmy pressed a button and began dictating. “Kanning, Kenneth. Trespassing. Harassment. Violation of privacy. We confiscated one video camera and all recordings.”

  Kanning’s bravado evaporated. He retreated two steps and bumped into his cameraman. “Shut it down, Larry.”

  “What?” the cameraman said. “We’re gonna cave?”

  “Shut it down and let’s go.” Kanning’s voice lost its sleekness when he spoke through gritted teeth.

  The cameraman muttered something insulting, whether at Kanning or at Jimmy, Giulia couldn’t tell. The Scoop covered the distance to their creeper van in a remarkably short time.

  Jimmy handed Frank back his phone, its screen black. “Good thing they couldn’t tell I don’t know your password.”

  Forty-Four

  After two hours at the ER, Giulia’s knee x-ray showed a deep bone bruise but no break. She picked up the Nunmobile at the police station and drove it back to the office. Frank followed her in his Camry and promised to throw her in the trunk if she attempted the stairs.

  She called Sidney and all three of them came running down.

  “You didn’t say anything about your face,” Sidney said. “Did you get that when you crashed the car?”

  “Nope. Fitch didn’t like it when I wasn’t an obedient little hostage.” She smiled at Jane. “Please come back tomorrow. It’s a wacky job sometimes, but it’s nowhere near this violent. Most of the time.”

  “Um, yeah. Of course I’ll come back. I like eating and paying my rent. Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been worse. Oh, wait. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Zane coughed. “It’s the reaction. Want some good news?”

  “More than anything except ibuprofen.”

  “The Diocese called and wants to talk about putting us on retainer. Great minds think alike?”

  Giulia laughed. “Our bank account will be fat and happy soon. AtlanticEdge always pays on time. It might take longer for the State to release the money Fitch owes us, but now that the Diocese brought up the retainer, we have the upper hand.” She put pressure on her injured knee and winced.

  Sidney said, “Frank, she should be home with you attending to her every need.”

  “I’m trying to get her there.”

  “Oh, Sidney, that’s right. The EMT said I should use arnica on my bruises. Do you have any?”

  “What
a silly question. Of course. I’ll bring it over tonight. Olivier’s taking me out to dinner at the new—” She grimaced and clutched her belly. “That’s the third one this afternoon.”

  “No, no, no, mini-Sidney.” Giulia shook her finger at Sidney’s midsection. “No greeting the world until Mama trains Jane.”

  “I’ll do my best—ow.” She breathed through the contraction. “It’s probably false labor.”

  Giulia dropped her head into her hands. “Frank, let’s go home. This might be my last calm evening for the foreseeable future.”

  About the Author

  Baker of brownies and tormenter of characters, Alice Loweecey recently celebrated her thirtieth year outside the convent. She grew up watching Hammer horror films and Scooby-Doo mysteries, which explains a whole lot. When she’s not creating trouble for Giulia Falcone-Driscoll, she can be found growing her own vegetables (in summer) and cooking with them (the rest of the year).

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