Nun But The Brave (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 3)

by Alice Loweecey

  The immediate effect of Giulia increasing the size of the first shot: Everyone got much too up close and personal with three vaginas. All the men leaned away. Giulia scrolled through the next photos in the multi-picture bursts she’d taken until she found a series with more faces than lady bits.

  “The washed-out brunette is my client’s missing twin sister.” She clicked some more.

  “Stop,” Jimmy said. “Do you have a better version of that skinny one on the left?”

  More clicks. “How’s this?”

  “Frank, that’s one of the kids from the park or the convenience store, right?”

  Frank and Nash leaned closer. Giulia enlarged the picture and scrolled until the smiling, drugged face filled the screen.

  “That’s her.”

  “Giulia,” Jimmy said, “please tell me you have a picture of the other teenager.”

  “I’ll click slower.” Another ten-picture burst and the camera focused on a different corner of the hidden drawer. Ten more and a third corner.

  “There she is,” Nash said. “See the vampire fangs tattoo on the side of her neck?”

  Jimmy lifted Giulia half out of her chair and bear-hugged her. “Frank doesn’t deserve you. I’ve been killing myself and Jane for days trying to figure out where those two fell from.”

  When Jimmy set her down, she said, “I have the exact address of this place and the name of the photographer.”

  “My wife is a queen among women, Reilly, and don’t you forget it.” Frank sat in his boss’ chair. “What’s his name?”

  “Alexander Sila, S-i-l-a. Jimmy, could he look up two others for me, please? Louis L-a-r-a-b-e-e and Kurt with a K W-a-r-f-i-e-l-d.”

  While Frank typed, Jimmy made a phone call. A few minutes later, in walked a tall uniformed officer with blue-black hair, one single curl off-center on his forehead, and shoulder muscles so big they swamped his neck. The small office got as claustrophobic as though three more people had squeezed in with them.

  “Steve Reeve, Giulia Driscoll.”

  “Ma’am.” They shook hands. “Captain Reilly says Scout and I may be able to help you in connection with the teenage girls case.”

  Giulia explained who she was looking for. “Will Scout need a piece of her clothing? I can drive over to her apartment this afternoon.”

  “No ma’am. Humans have their own unique smell when they’re alive, but when we’re dead we all smell alike.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  The mountainous Superman doppelganger smiled for a nanosecond. “It keeps things in perspective. When and where are we meeting?”

  “Five o’clock tomorrow morning, here. Is it all right if I hitch a ride with you?”

  “No problem, ma’am. See you tomorrow morning.”

  When he left, Nash said, “I am consumed by feelings of inadequacy.”

  “Reeve has that effect on people,” Jimmy said.

  “And my wife gets to spend an hour in the car with him tomorrow,” Frank said.

  “Forget him,” Giulia said. “What kind of dog is Scout?”

  “Golden retriever.”

  “Tomorrow will be a good day.”

  Frank cleared his throat. “Wife of mine, I am feeling even more inadequate, as our computer system is running like cold molasses and I am unable to dazzle you.”

  “Aww,” from Jimmy and Nash.

  Giulia winked at Jane. “Dazzle fades. I’d rather have your skills any day.”

  “Aww,” from Jane, Nash, and Jimmy.

  Forty-Five

  “Morning, ma’am.” Officer Reeve looked as crisp as though hour-long drives to tromp through woods were everyday five a.m. occurrences.

  “Good morning. Thank you for coming out with me this early.” Giulia swallowed a yawn.

  “Let me introduce you to Scout.” He gestured to the bright-eyed medium-yellow dog at his feet. The dog stood, always looking at his handler. “Scout, this lady is a friend.”

  Giulia held out her fist with the back of her hand up. Scout sniffed it, looked into her face, grinned at her, and wagged his tail. Giulia rubbed his ears.

  She directed him to the compound the long way around, using the directions Alex gave her the first time she visited. Officer Reeve called her “ma’am” more times than she’d ever been called in her life. They parked near the creek. Giulia stayed by the SUV and watched Reeve and Scout take care of business. After a set of hand signals and words, the dog ran into the woods, exploring trees and mounds of dirt and bushes and the creek bank.

  The sky grew brighter and brighter, the sun streaming through the trees and sparkling on the creek. Nineteen thousand four hundred seventy-three birds greeted it, but Scout wasn’t distracted for a moment. Scout’s fruitless searching lasted until seven a.m., when Reeve walked to a chestnut with massive roots and placed a stuffed cloth circle under several layers of leaves. Within five minutes, Scout zeroed in on the hidden object and lay down next to it. He didn’t bark but looked over at Reeve like it was Reeve’s turn in their game. Reeve unearthed the stuffed object and praised the dog. Treats were produced and consumed, and Scout returned to the SUV panting and happy.

  The three of them climbed into the SUV and headed back to Cottonwood.

  “This is all a big game to him, ma’am,” Reeve said. “When he works hard but doesn’t find evidence of a body, I plant a decoy with cadaver material embedded so he wins the game.”

  Giulia was considering the ramifications of Scout’s failure. “I see.”

  “Ma’am, we have three possible conclusions from today’s search.”

  Giulia snapped into focus. “Yes, I know. Either she’s buried somewhere else, or she was buried too recently for Scout to find her, or she’s not dead.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I think if the Doomsday Preppers killed her, they would’ve buried her close by. They’ve done their best to screen their compound from prying eyes in the sky and nosy trespassers on the ground.” She tapped her fingers on the windowsill. “They could’ve cut her up and used her for compost, but they don’t seem the type.”

  Reeve never flinched. “That’s good.”

  They finished the ride in silence. Giulia checked her email even though it was too early for the lab results. She checked her texts even though Frank would wait until she reached home before giving her his arrest record search results.

  At the police station, Giulia gave Scout a belly rub and received slobbery kisses in return. She handed her business card to Reeve. “Let me know if you need anything else from me to complete your report.”

  Frank was waiting for her at home with coffee and bagels ready at the kitchen table for both of them.

  “You are a prince among husbands. And no, Scout did not find Joanne’s body.” She clutched the coffee mug after her first swallow. “Oh, coffee, I’m sorry I cheated on you with a cheap knockoff of your awesomeness, but it was in the line of duty.”

  Frank spooned Giulia’s homemade jam onto his pumpernickel bagel. “I should secretly make Vines of some of the things you say.”

  Giulia treated him to her teacher glare.

  “Brr. Did the furnace just kick on? Joke. When you’re done eating I have information for you.”

  Giulia savored the coffee. “I’m taking my time with breakfast, because I don’t want to tempt the morning sickness imps to visit me. But you, sir, are a tease.”

  She cleaned the dishes and Frank brought his laptop to the table. “Since I don’t know who’s your suspect number one, I’ll start with Warfield. He is so vanilla he wasn’t worth my research time. One speeding ticket. No drugs, no DUIs, not even a parking violation.”

  “Good. I got a positive vibe from him, even though he’s a tenor.”

  “Can’t be. Tenors are the et
ernal Don Juans of the music world.”

  “Nonetheless.”

  “Moving on to Alexander Sila. The man likes his mind-altering substances. Tried to buy LSD from an undercover cop ten years ago. Got sixty days and a hefty fine. Busted for weed a year later. Got one hundred twenty days and a heftier fine. No third strike, so it seems he got a clue.”

  “I’m only surprised he wasn’t arrested for drunk driving.” She finished her coffee.

  “Jail will do that for some people.” He scrolled down the screen. “I take it back. No more dope convictions, but picked up three months after he got out when he busted into one of Penelec’s power plants with—get this—a plumber’s wrench.”

  “With a what?”

  “Think of a monkey wrench like in old Saturday morning cartoons.”

  Giulia shook her head. “Why am I not surprised? A younger, more impulsive Mr. Anti-technology giving the advent of the New World a little assistance.”

  “He would have, if it weren’t for the state of the art alarm system.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “His wrench took out a bunch of computer terminals before security tackled him. He got seven years but played the model prisoner. Paroled after two and a half and pure as the driven snow ever since.”

  “Just a second.” Giulia brought her iPad in from the living room and opened her case files. “I wonder how much his community members paid for the privilege of acceptance? He wants Maria Martin, but he only mentioned money to me once.”

  “Right.” Frank typed. “Unless he pulled off a secret bank robbery, he had to get the cash for his truck somehow. Better-paying companies don’t want to hire three-time losers.”

  “He could be using the library for internet access, although I didn’t see the inside of his house. That is, the inside of his decoy house accessible from the road. All the houses in the compound are one hundred percent off grid.”

  Frank turned his laptop screen toward her. “Got it. He owns seventy acres along the Beaver River. Google Earth here shows a lot of trees and massive amounts of corn and wheat and a couple of other grains I can’t identify. Look.”

  She enlarged the map and waited for it to redraw. “Beans and peas. Something low and green…broccoli, maybe. He told me he owned two acres. The community crops covered at least six.” She tried to drink nonexistent coffee from her empty cup. “He’s devious and clever and the worst kind of false prophet, the one who twists his religion for his own lust and power.”

  “Honey, you are the only person I know who uses the word ‘lust’ in a Dante’s Inferno sense.”

  “Years of shoving classic literature down the throats of humanoid squirrels has served me well.” She shrank the map and found the herb garden. “I saw morning glories and poppies in this chicken-wire enclosure here.” Another spin of the laptop.

  Frank grinned at her over the screen. “I do believe it’s search warrant time.”

  Giulia’s phone rang with the lab’s ID. She stabbed the green button.

  “Yes?”

  “Ms. Driscoll, it’s Jerry. I have your results. The compound contained forty-five percent chamomile, forty-five percent valerian, and ten percent lavender.”

  Giulia breathed. No opium. No LSA. In a calm voice which had nothing to do with her internal panic, she said, “Would you happen to know the effects of those herbs when inhaled by a woman in the first trimester?”

  “Let me check on the valerian…right. Are we talking about smoking a whole pipeful of this mixture?”

  Her breath stopped again. “No. No direct inhalation at all. Only secondhand, outdoors in a small group. After breathing in the smoke for approximately fifteen minutes, the person reported she felt a little loopy.”

  Jerry answered without hesitation. “Tell her she’s fine. Chamomile is a calming herb. You’ve seen those teabags in the grocery store. Some weed smokers switch to it when they can’t afford the illegal stuff. Valerian is a soporific and lavender is a sedative and muscle relaxer. The strength of all three was in the medium range. If your client felt the effects, it’s likely because she never inhaled anything stronger than secondhand cigarette smoke.”

  Stress tears pricked Giulia’s eyes. She swallowed to get to her normal voice. “Thank you for rushing this test. Please email the invoice and the results to the company address.”

  Frank’s hands gripped the table edge. “What?”

  Giulia blotted her eyes on her napkin. “It’s okay. The baby is okay.” She repeated the analysis and the effects of the herbs. “I’ve got a one o’clock appointment with my OB/GYN to see what she says, but little Zlatan is in the clear.”

  “We’re going to break up this happy little sex and drugs cult and it will be the highlight of my week.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Where were we?”

  Giulia had to think. “Suspects. We finished with the tenor and the Antler Stud.”

  He snorted. “The name of a cheap porn film if I ever heard one.”

  “I don’t want to know how you came to that conclusion.”

  “Yes, dear. All right, Larabee. Five years back, his neighbors called 911 twice on him. Screams and sounds of furniture breaking. His girlfriend wouldn’t press charges the first time, but the second time he shoved her through their screen door and started choking her on the sidewalk. Did six months for assault.”

  Giulia pulled her iPad closer. “Hold that thought.” She opened another set of interview notes. “He told me he got six months as a juvenile for selling drugs, then enlisted in and quit the Marines.”

  “He’s not a total liar. He did join the Marines after he got out on probation. Lasted all of fifty-three days.”

  “What else?”

  “Is he charming?”

  “Not particularly. If someone’s into the caveman hunter type, he could be perceived as the one who’d come out on top of a Survival of the Fittest contest.”

  “Someone was. He got married a month after the Marine stint to a woman with an off-grid blog. They bought one of those miniature houses.”

  Frank’s phone jingled with his text sound. He opened it and stood. “I have to run. I’ll email you the rest of it.” He closed his laptop and kissed her. “I’ll call you if we need more ammunition for the search warrant.”

  Giulia drove to the office. Sidney locked the door as soon as she stepped over the threshold. “We demand the story.”

  Zane set his client chair in the middle of the room. “All the first thing in the morning work is finished and we blocked out an hour for when you came in.”

  “So dish,” Sidney said. “Fried bugs for dinner?”

  “Special filters for drinking your own urine?”

  “Ew.” Sidney made a gagging face at Zane.

  Giulia countered Zane’s urine filter suggestion. “Homegrown coffee with goat milk and honey.”

  Sidney stopped mid-laugh. “Home-grown coffee? Really? They didn’t add any chemicals to it, right? How did they roast it? What about decaf?”

  Zane gagged this time. “Goat milk is an offense against the human palate. You took one for the team, Ms. D.”

  “Sidney, the coffee was undrinkable even without the goat milk.”

  Sidney drooped. “You’re the coffee expert. Drat. Okay, moment over. Take us through your two days living in a non-technical world.”

  What with all their questions, laughter, and appalled comments over Antlered Alex’s duck-duck-goose ritual, Giulia didn’t escape to her office for another forty-five minutes. Frank’s email was the only one she paid attention to.

  “Where we left off: A couple of months after Larabee and his wife moved to their little house, the neighbors stopped seeing the wife. The usual rationalizations came out: She changed jobs or everyone kept missing her by a minute or two. The neighbors on each side of the hou
se thought they heard screaming fights between Larabee and the wife, but no one wanted to interfere. The wife’s parents showed up and he told them she was on a weekend getaway with friends. Wouldn’t let them in. The next day, the cops showed at Larabee’s door because the mother swore she heard her daughter’s voice yelling from somewhere in the house. They had a warrant, they searched the house, they found the wife locked in the basement. She refused to sleep with Larabee and he was keeping her there until she changed her mind. A slick lawyer weaseled his way into the jury’s heads and he got only three years in jail with early parole because of good behavior.”

  Giulia banged the eraser end of a pencil on her desk. No wonder people in the Middle Ages believed in all kinds of different demons tempting them to perform evil acts. So much simpler than believing your neighbor hatched evil plans out of his own head.

  She dealt with her other emails. Invoices she forwarded to Zane, then divvied up three new client inquiries. The subpoena work went to Zane, the prenup to Sidney, the data discovery request she kept for herself. She paid the lab’s rush fee out of her private PayPal account.

  Her fingers stopped moving after she sent the payment. She turned to a new sheet on her legal pad:

  Domestic assault à Lies à Major anger issues à “Me against the world” à More girlfriend issues à Moves to the sticks à Missing wife à More lies à Wife in basement.

  Beneath it, another chart:

  Hunts with Joanne à Goes out with Joanne à Claims…

  What did he claim? She opened the notes on her iPad.

  Claims the breakup was mutual à Joanne vanished April 3rd to Alex’s cult à Joanne bails on the cult (when?) à Joanne’s friends go public on Facebook accusing Larabee of kidnapping her à Larabee goes ballistic on Facebook and in person (twice).

  That second visit, early in the morning when he kept her outside on his grass. She closed her eyes. Neighbors doing everything possible to see what was happening on Larabee’s front lawn. An unwashed Larabee not letting her inside. A woman’s voice from a hidden TV.