Nun After the Other

by Alice Loweecey

  “Nancy Drew,” Sidney said. “We’re in a Nancy Drew mystery.”

  “I loved those books when I was a budding goth,” Rowan said. “They’re proof opposites attract. Little miss blonde rich girl and me.”

  “Auntie, you’re sidetracking the story.”

  Rowan made a zipper motion across her lips.

  “The mugger theory isn’t proven,” Giulia continued, “because neither fingerprints nor DNA evidence were found on her body, but I’m convinced the scream Frank and I heard was caused by more than a sudden heart attack.” She waited for her audience to pay attention to her and not their tea. “I don’t see the convent ghost as a suspect at the moment.”

  “She might not be able to leave the house,” Rowan said. “You said she designed it. Depending on the manner of her death and the strength of her attachment, she might believe she’s trapped there.”

  “Which brings me to my next idea. What if she’s responsible for the rest of the vandalism?” Giulia explained the harassment the convent was experiencing. “She said more than once she doesn’t like the nuns.”

  Rowan sipped tea with a meditative expression. “If she can manifest cigarettes, it’s possible, but I don’t like the feel of a ghost as sole agent.”

  “Neither do I,” Giulia said. “Too much has been happening via outside agents.” She summarized the convent’s two earlier break-ins, labeling the dead rats in the cellar as a possible third.

  “She could be helping the harassers along.” Jasper raised a finger for each item he listed. “Phone calls with hang ups in the middle of the night. Noises in the back and at the windows to augment the jump scares.” He closed his hand. “I can’t quite see how she could get access to X-rated magazines.”

  “Or tape them to the outside of the windows,” Rowan said.

  Giulia collected the empty Styrofoam cups and tossed them in the trash. “All right. We can’t rule out the junkie population and we can’t rule out Eagle. At least his ghost isn’t hanging around the convent. What advice do you have for me to try and convince the current ghost to help?”

  Rowan and Jasper shared a glance. “Because she’s the type to give attitude, you might have to trick her into helping.”

  “Great.”

  Zane said, “Offer to have The Scoop tell her story.”

  Giulia picked up her desk phone. “Zane, I will call your girlfriend right now and tell her you’ve become a Brony.”

  Sidney laughed and laughed. She bent over and clutched her stomach and kept laughing. Giulia sagged with relief. She’d been worried Sidney was mentally composing her resignation letter.

  Jasper looked around at the various facial expressions: Zane’s horror, Giulia’s recovered sternness, Rowan’s amusement, Sidney’s guffaws. “What am I missing?”

  His aunt answered. “It’s a cartoon show about anthropomorphic, multi-colored ponies who have adventures and learn life lessons. My granddaughters love it.”

  Jasper didn’t appear enlightened.

  “It’s also gained a large adult male following. There’s even a convention. They cosplay.”

  Sidney wiped her eyes. “Anyone have a tissue?”

  Giulia opened her lower desk drawer and handed her the square tissue box she kept there.

  Jasper said in a measured voice, “Zane, you may want to retract your suggestion about The Scoop.”

  “I do. I do. I take it back. No, I’ll invent a working time machine and take us back to the minute before I said it.”

  The handset returned to the cradle. Giulia relaxed her stern face. Zane inhaled for such a long time she wondered where he’d found the breath to gabble his last four sentences.

  Rowan stepped into the breach. “Back to the original question. You might have the best luck playing to her love of the house. Tell her any continued attempts to scare the nuns away will accelerate Eagle’s efforts. Did you tell her they want to tear the place down?”

  “Yes. She cursed enough to deserve her mouth being washed out with soap. Then she vanished.”

  “Good. You’ve planted the seed of fear in her.”

  “A ghost can be afraid? Serious question.”

  “Yes. Remember my ex-mother-in-law? She put on a show of anger but fear gave her a green and black outline, all swirling together. I knew she was afraid I’d replace her as her son’s favorite person.” Rowan shook her head. “He died eleven years ago after two more failed marriages. I hope he and his mother are happy together.”

  The forty-something knocked on the doorframe. “Ma’am, we’re all set out here. We’re ready for you to download our software to your computer and phone.”

  Rowan squinted at him. “Young man, you need a spiritual cleanse.”

  Fifty-Eight

  Rowan took the technician by the arm and read his aura in detail, adding explanations and advice. His partner sidled around them and took over walking Giulia through the downloads.

  “Remember,” Rowan ripped a phone message slip from Zane’s desk and sat in Zane’s client chair to write, “orange signifies underlying stress. You need to identify the stressors in your life, because orange is bleeding into your good, solid red of practicality. You also have a beautiful emerald green foundation. You should consider volunteering for one of those animal rescue places. And get a physical. Your turquoise is all wonky.”

  She thrust the paper into his shirt pocket. His face had the look of someone’s new boyfriend being introduced to a houseful of kooky relatives at Thanksgiving dinner.

  The minute Giulia signed the invoice, Rowan blocked the other technician’s exit. “Stand still, please. I need to focus.”

  His face took on the same trapped expression.

  Giulia locked her screen and left Rowan in possession of her doorway. Jasper, Zane, and Sidney were sitting around the window table. She joined them.

  “What a beautiful shade of royal blue.” Rowan’s hands spread in front of the technician’s torso. “And the hot pink. All my husbands’ auras had that same shade of hot pink. It’s a good thing my current husband has it too.” She cackled.

  Giulia put her head on the table and held her breath.

  Sidney leaned over. “Do you want me to pinch you or anything?”

  Giulia whispered, “Give me a second.” She raised her head but the look in Jasper’s eyes made her bite her lips and stare out the window at the pizza place sign.

  “She loves taking people by surprise,” Jasper whispered. “Her readings are correct, but those poor guys are so off-balance their reactions are muddying their auras the longer she talks.”

  Rowan tucked a note in the second technician’s pocket. “Don’t forget to cut back on salt.”

  He spoke for the first time since she buttonholed him. “You can see that in my aura?”

  She shut him up with a look. “No, I can see your fingers are retaining water.”

  After the security team left, Rowan dragged Zane’s client chair to the table.

  Sidney said in a small voice, “Did the ghost die of lung cancer?”

  Everyone stared.

  “Well, cigarettes are poison.”

  “That’s an interesting question,” Zane said. “When were cigarettes with all the additives first marketed?”

  Jasper’s phone alarm went off. “Rowan, you have a two fifteen past life regression and I’m meeting a buyer for our excess healing crystal inventory.”

  “You are the best nephew and business partner.” Rowan squeezed Zane and Sidney and hugged Giulia with much less force. “In two months all we’ll be able to do is bump bellies. Thank you for lunch and don’t forget to tell us what happens the next time you talk to your ghost.”

  The downstairs door skreeked closed a minute later. Giulia let out a long breath. “Some days Rowan has too much energy for me to process. Are there any honey cakes left?”

&n
bsp; Sidney opened the box on her desk. “One. Want to split it?”

  “Yes, please. I have a long afternoon ahead of me.”

  She started with the easy search. James Bosnack invented a cigarette machine in 1881, well within Florence’s timeframe. Florence could have purchased pre-made cigarettes or rolled her own. Women smoked in public in the 1900s in Greenwich village, shocking the neighbors. Florence seemed the type to walk down Cottonwood’s main street smoking and showing off her ostrich feathers and extreme corset dresses.

  Giulia flipped over the “Beech or addicts?” placeholder page on her legal pad.

  Florence Gosnall

  •Ask her about cigarettes. This should please her.

  Then Giulia took a leap of faith. She typed the ghost’s name in quotes into the search window.

  And there she was.

  Giulia released her mouse and sat back. “Guys, she was real.”

  Like magic, Sidney and Zane were at her shoulders, reading her screen.

  “She’s buried in the First Church of Cottonwood’s cemetery.”

  Sidney read the listing. “Florence Bertha Gosnall, born January fifteenth, 1887, died July second, 1912.”

  Zane said, “The other gravestones have extra lines. ‘Beloved wife.’ ‘Beloved husband.’ Colonel US Cavalry.’ Hers has nothing.”

  Sidney said, “Men were intimidated by confident women a hundred years ago too.”

  “Possibly.” Giulia hit the back button. “There doesn’t seem to be much else…Wait. She said she designed the house.” She typed several search strings with no luck. “Women didn’t get hired by architecture firms back then.”

  “Try a title search,” Zane said. “When I bought my house I found out the previous owner had gone bankrupt and the house had been foreclosed. I paid extra for two separate inspections in case it had hidden damage from being empty too long.”

  “I should’ve thought of that. Our Cape Cod only had one owner before us, so we didn’t have any issues.” Giulia typed. “Bingo. First owner, F.B. Gosnall. Six bedrooms, two bathrooms. Not anymore. Some of the bedrooms have been cut in half. She may be annoyed about that too.” Giulia rubbed her hands over her face. “I’m still much too calm about this.”

  “Ms. D., I think it’s cool. Maybe you’ll end up like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost, where once she hears Patrick Swayze’s voice, ghosts stampede her psychic business to make her contact their relatives.”

  “Zane, if you make Sidney resign I’ll take to drinking hard liquor, which is bad for the baby.”

  Sidney commandeered the client chair. “Full disclosure time. When I saw that freaky green picture on your monitor I was this close to running out the door and never coming back.” She held her thumb and index finger a millimeter apart. “But Jessamine needs a college fund and we need health insurance. So I guess I’m staying.”

  Giulia exhaled. “You have no idea how relieved I am.”

  “Besides, someone has to supply your garden with alpaca poop fertilizer.”

  Zane shuddered. “I don’t want scatological details on what makes my vegetables big and tasty, thank you.”

  “Wuss.”

  Giulia made shooing motions. “I have to organize my information.”

  She added to the ghost’s list:

  •Ask her about designing the house.

  •Was she married? Note: This might make her angry. If she gets angry enough to disappear, she may stop giving me information.

  •Ask her if she smoked in public. She may enjoy telling shocking stories.

  •Play up to her clothes.

  Giulia pulled up all the Gibson Girl information she could find, but Florence wasn’t anywhere. Perhaps she failed the audition. Better revise.

  •Play up to her clothes. Did she ever model for Gibson? Reveal frumpy maternity pants and express a wish for her figure (not really a lie).

  At which point Giulia ran out of ideas. She’d have to sneak in questions about Eagle’s arson attempt in between girl talk. She wrote across the bottom of the page:

  She’s not “my” ghost.

  Fifty-Nine

  The “Beech or a Cadre of Addicts” page would no longer work. Her bullet point system rebelled at the concept of two major suspects per page. She tossed it and started fresh.

  Barbara Beech

  •How intimate was the Beech-Eagle connection?

  •The professional connection, not as ex-lovers.

  •Does Beech own Eagle Developers now?

  She checked for probate information and made a face at the answer on the screen.

  •Probate takes six months minimum.

  •Any way to find out before probate if she owns Eagle Devs. now?

  Her Google-fu was strong today. The first hit on Beech’s full name brought up dogster.com in the main window and a studio portrait of Beech and three Pomeranians on her member profile page. A little searching within the Community page on the dogster site brought up a Pomeranian-specific discussion board.

  •What is she like outside the office? Beech is besotted over her Pomeranians.

  More searching.

  •Divorced. No kids.

  •She sky dives.

  •Thus she’s comfortable with risks.

  •Thus she’s Eagle’s logical successor.

  •Enough to have hired the thug who subcontracted the break-in to the twelve-year-old?

  •Or does she have a faithful assistant who asks no questions?

  •Or is a faithful assistant in on everything?

  •Would the faithful assistant be mulling blackmail?

  Too many sensitive questions and too few ways to get answers.

  The phone rang, and the second line rang a few seconds later. Zane buzzed her. “Ms. D., it’s Eagle’s office on two.”

  She rubbed her face again and pressed the button. “Did you ever read Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There?”

  “Uh, a million years ago in grade school, I think.”

  “A poem from the book is called ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter.’ When the title characters trick a school of oysters into coming on land the poem reads, ‘And thick and fast they came at last, and more and more and more.’”

  “Okay…”

  “My life is imitating this poem. I’ll take the call.” She waited for the line two light to blink. “Giulia Driscoll speaking.”

  “Please hold for Ms. Beech.” A click.

  At the same time Zane’s arm reached over to close her door to block out Sidney on line one.

  “Ms. Driscoll, I’m glad I caught you in.” Beech’s voice was smooth and professional. “Here is our current buyout offer.” She named a figure a few thousand less than Giulia’s last counter offer. “Please convey this to your client. I hope to hear from you very soon.”

  Giulia walked into the main room and waited for the typing to stop. “Let me share today’s business lesson. Barbara Beech called with a counter offer. She ended the call with ‘I hope to hear from you very soon.’ Not ‘soon’ and not merely ‘hope to hear from you.’”

  Sidney said, “A demand camouflaged in polite words?”

  “Exactly. I wish I’d recorded the call. Her voice was a sledgehammer wrapped in bunny fur.”

  Zane choked. “I need to design that as a weapon for my next gaming weekend.”

  “It’s all yours. Too bad I can’t call the convent. The Superior is still teaching school.”

  “They’ll take the offer?” Zane said.

  “I’ll convince them. The offer is two thousand above the amount I was willing to settle for. It will give them a few choices for new housing and still cover the extra moving expenses for the invalid Sisters. At least one thing is going right today.”

  Sidney said, “I bet your ghost won’t like it.”r />
  “We’re working for the nuns, not for a rude ghost.” Giulia replayed her words in her head. “A statement I never dreamed would come out of my mouth. And she’s not my ghost.”

  The phone rang.

  “Unless it’s the Pope himself offering to put us on retainer, I’m not here.”

  Sidney snorted. Zane held out his phone. “It’s Mr. D.”

  “Okay, two exceptions.” She took it. “Yes, dear?”

  “We got confirmation. The chemicals in brake fluid and pool shock were embedded in Eagle’s face and hands. The hands pretty much clinch it. He was trying a little homemade arson.”

  “Great.”

  “Not the news you wanted?”

  “Yes and no. Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you tonight.”

  She relayed the information to Sidney and Zane. “This means…wait…maybe…” She turned on her heel and spread her bullet lists over her desk. “The smart PI never assumes she knows who did it.”

  Sixty

  Giulia tore off another page from the legal pad.

  Victor Eagle

  •Yes, he’s dead.

  •Was he Machiavellian enough to have orchestrated the harassment campaign on his own? (Corollary to Beech’s page: If not solo, was/is Beech in league with him?)

  In league. She opened the folder of all their compiled research.

  Another new page.

  Addicts, Singular or Plural

  •We have to find out if the muggings are related to Matilda’s death.

  •And the convent harassment (thin, but possible).

  •And if Eagle’s company is involved.

  •In muggings? Makes zero sense.

  •Even with the thug plus James Haynes with a Y.

  •Only the possibility of a mugger + Matilda makes it worth a thought.