Second To Nun (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 2)

by Alice Loweecey

  “Are you saying that closing the office last year for our honeymoon was short-sighted?”

  “No, because I would’ve obsessed for the entire week, and so would you. But I can’t stay at a B&B by myself. They’re a couples thing. Remember how you’ve been saying you need more time with your wife?”

  “I’m still saying it.”

  “Can you get time off on such short notice? If you can’t, a whole chunk of wife-time will be delayed by several days.” When Frank didn’t reply, she added, “Did I mention the large fee she offered?”

  “You did, and a very nice number it was, too. Then again—”

  Giulia put a finger on his lips. “I already thought it. The very size of the fee makes it suspicious.”

  Frank sucked on the tip of her finger. Giulia lost her train of thought. He released her finger, grinning, and stood.

  “I’ll check the schedule tomorrow morning with Jimmy and see if I can get away. Several days of wife-time is worth encountering a few antimacassars.”

  Nine

  Because the bright copper Nunmobile might be a little too memorable, Giulia waited near Flynt’s house in Frank’s maroon Camry Friday morning. Clouds threatened Flynt’s weekly golf outing, but she had no doubt a true adherent of the Religion of Golf wouldn’t cancel for anything less than nuclear war.

  At six forty-five, Flynt came out the side door of his two-story Colonial carrying a golf bag and pressed something in his hand. The garage door swung up and open.

  As Flynt tossed the bag into the back of his SUV, twin girls about six years old in identical Hello Kitty dresses ran out of the house. Giulia rolled down her window an inch.

  “You didn’t kiss us goodbye, Daddy!”

  Flynt scooped up one in each arm. “Daddy thought you were sleeping.” He kissed them and set them down. “You help your mommy while I’m gone, okay?”

  “We will.” They ran back inside and waved from the door as Flynt backed out.

  Giulia didn’t have to see through the SUV’s windows to be certain he turned his charming smile on his daughters.

  “You give pond scum a bad name, Flynt.” Giulia started the Camry and pulled out into the street before the SUV turned the corner. She followed it for a mile and a quarter. They passed the golf course entrance and turned into the exclusive housing development adjacent to the back nine. The SUV parked in the driveway of a three-story mansion complete with pillared porch in the front and tennis court out back.

  Giulia parked at the end of the empty street. In these places, even though every house possessed an attached garage, the Camry could still pass muster. If anyone bothered to look out their window, it could be taken as a real estate agent’s car or even someone scoping out the neighborhood with an eye to moving in.

  Giulia slipped her camera in her right jacket pocket and her telephoto lens in the left and zipped everything closed. Then she stood next to the car in her warm-up suit and went through her pre-run stretch routine. Two minutes of that and she power walked down one side of the long block and up the other. Beads of sweat formed at her hairline and in the small of her back. The motionless air promised lots of rain. She’d have to improvise a shield for her camera lens.

  Without breaking stride, she left the street and walked between the blind sides of the pillared house and the gabled one next to it.

  The development had been around long enough to rate real-sized trees in the backyards. Climbable trees, she’d discovered when she’d checked out the development last week. When she left the security of the houses, she hid behind a spruce, dashed over to another, avoided three birches because their trunks wouldn’t conceal a supermodel, and finished up at an oak three times her height.

  She climbed onto a branch so sturdy her weight barely rustled the leaves. Her butt complained at the rough seat, but she ignored it and put her camera together. The view wasn’t quite what she wanted, so she squirmed around and stretched prone on the branch, wriggling farther along until two smaller branches supported her elbows.

  This position gave her an unobstructed view across the backyard, over the tennis court, and one story above the ginormous gas grill, straight into the master bedroom. Several prior visits to this little stretch of woods confirmed that Flynt’s mistress seldom closed her bedroom curtains. Squirrels and birds were her only back neighbors, for which Giulia thanked the development’s landscapers.

  A Biblical storm chose that moment to break. Giulia never cursed, ever, but this downpour tested her resolve. Of course it couldn’t be a light summer shower. She pulled her jacket over her head and the camera. Water pummeled her back and poured into her pants.

  Fortunately, Giulia had plenty to distract her. The mistress hadn’t wasted time while Giulia played dedicated athlete up and down the street.

  She envied the mistress’ hourglass figure and how well she filled out her glittery push-up bra and matching panties. The mistress was already on her knees and Flynt’s knickers were on the floor. Knickers. Did the man think he was Bobby Jones? Did Bobby Jones play golf commando style? Did golf historians have access to such details?

  Her attempt at distracting herself failed. Giulia’s face heated with embarrassment as she took a stream of salacious pictures.

  During those first months out of the convent four years ago, she’d eaten at her friend’s soup kitchen because her minimum wage job couldn’t cover food and rent. Of all the better-paying jobs she was now qualified for, she could say with confidence that hiding in a tree taking close-ups of a nearly naked woman performing fellatio on a cheating husband was never a planned part of that list.

  She wiped stray spatters off the lens to get a clearer shot of Flynt’s face. When his mistress led him to bed, Giulia adjusted her position again to capture both of them in the frame.

  Oh, joy.

  But for Giulia’s purposes, the mistress couldn’t have picked a better morning to cowgirl Flynt. Giulia finished her Friday morning voyeurism with a telephoto series of damning pictures.

  When the volume of their shouts got loud enough to cover any noise Giulia might make, she slid down the drenched tree and squelched between the houses back to the street.

  Even if anyone had seen her power walk earlier, the still-pouring rain gave her an obvious reason to skip her usual set of cool down exercises.

  The illusion of a nondescript adult varying her morning workout routine complete, Giulia squished into the driver’s seat and drove away. Good thing she’d planned to go home and change out of her stalking clothes.

  The XXX peep show she’d documented kept playing in her head. Maybe 7-Eleven sold eye bleach.

  She let herself into the house, left her shoes on the mat by the door between the garage and kitchen, and took off her socks before she left a trail of wet footprints.

  “I’m back,” she said as she opened the bathroom door.

  Frank stuck his head around the shower curtain. “You’re wet.”

  “Taking pictures of a cheating husband during a downpour will do that.” Giulia peeled off her jeans and shirt. “Even my underwear is soaked.” She dropped her bra and panties on the pile of clothes.

  Frank’s hand grasped her bare arm and pulled her toward the shower. “Come get warm.”

  Giulia stepped into the tub. “There’s shampoo in your hair.” She backed her husband under the water and sluiced away white foam until his head was ginger again.

  “Want me to wash your back?” He pulled her against his chest.

  “Yes, please.”

  Ten

  At nine fifteen, Giulia stood in line at Common Grounds in wet hair, dry clothes, and perfect contentment. Neither she nor Frank had time to make coffee at home after that shower.

  “Giulia! You’ve been neglecting our croissants.” The barista poured Giulia a large French roast without asking.
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  “I’ve been keeping weird hours, Mingmei. Caramel syrup, please.”

  “You don’t want that. We’ve got mint chocolate brownie now.” The petite black-haired woman wagged the syrup bottle in Giulia’s face.

  “You’ve won me over. Inject my coffee with that and tell me when you got the ear helix piercing.”

  “A couple of weeks ago. Hurt worse than the belly button one, remember? Tell me how much you like my dragon cuff.” She put a lid on the coffee.

  “It’s beautiful. His sapphire eyes go with your hair.” Giulia stepped back and studied the pastry shelves.

  “Don’t bother.” Mingmei reached into the lower shelf and brought out a fresh croissant filled with apples and cinnamon.

  “You know me too well.” Giulia paid for breakfast. “Girls’ night out soon?”

  “Vacation next week, but maybe at the end of the month. I’ll call you. Have to get your drinking in before Frank knocks you up.”

  Giulia blushed. Mingmei pounced.

  “What’s that face mean? Are you pregnant and didn’t tell me?”

  Giulia glanced around her at the full tables and the five people in line behind her. Everyone not focused on their cell phones was smiling. She glared at Mingmei, who was laughing now.

  “No, I’m not pregnant. We’re too busy for that. We’re planning a family eventually, and thank you for discussing my reproductive capabilities in a public place. I’ll find out the patron saint of inappropriate questions and pray to her for you.” She tried to keep the glare through this speech, but lost it halfway through.

  Mingmei laughed even harder. “Take your breakfast and get out of here before the boss catches me having fun.”

  “It would serve you right.” Giulia stuck out her tongue at her friend and left.

  Giulia tried the coffee on her way upstairs and decided it was delicious but more suited to a cold winter day. Probably the mint.

  From his desk, Zane said, “Good morning, boss. Why do I suddenly want Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies?”

  Giulia wafted the steam from her coffee toward him.

  He inhaled. “I don’t do flavored coffee, but I might make an exception for that.”

  “Downstairs. They cater to your every sugary need.” She flipped the light switch in her separate office.

  The door opened again. Giulia turned and saw a member of the local courier service Driscoll Investigations always used.

  “Morning. Delivery from the Bishop’s office.”

  Giulia signed the carbonless slip and took possession of the nine-by-twelve envelope. She listened for the sound of the downstairs door closing behind the courier before she tore the envelope open. When she saw the countersigned retainer agreement she whooped and kissed the top copy.

  “Steady income for the next twelve months. Today is a very good day.”

  Zane opened the window. “We can expect year-end bonuses, right?” After a deep inhale, he said, “Now I want Thin Mints and pizza.”

  “For breakfast?” Giulia said from behind her desk.

  “As a responsible adult, I have the freedom to eat cookies and pizza for breakfast if I choose.”

  Sidney’s voice in the doorway groaned in response. “Do you have any idea of the amount of chemicals in processed baked goods? I won’t even mention the hormones added to pig feed that end up in the sausages.”

  “Good morning, Sidney,” Giulia and Zane said.

  “I won’t lie and say that sausage and pepperoni on a pizza don’t smell really good.” The beeps and clicks of Sidney’s computer starting up punctuated her words. “But I’d never, ever put those poisons in my body or in Jessamine’s.”

  “I’m still kind of disappointed you didn’t name her mini-Sidney,” Giulia said.

  “Olivier liked Sidney but I didn’t want two people with the same name in the same house. I wanted something really unusual, like a Celtic word for the moon or the sun. We compromised on a flower name. Now we have jessamine planted all around the cottage. They’re beautiful.”

  Giulia said, “I will hide behind my monitor and eat my delicious processed baked good while I upload the latest photos of the charming Mr. Flynt.”

  “I’ll pretend not to see you,” Sidney said.

  Giulia hooked the camera up to her computer. The croissant tasted so good she even neglected the coffee for several minutes. When the download completed, she wiped her hands and opened the file.

  “You, sir, are going down in flames.”

  “You’re talking to yourself again,” Sidney called from the other room.

  “Give me credit for decreasing the habit since I got married.”

  “We do. Olivier says it’s an indication that you no longer think you have only yourself to rely on.”

  Giulia made a face. “It’s weird knowing your husband spends part of his spare time examining the inside of my head.”

  “He’s good at his job. That’s why he’s only six months away from leaving that three-psychologist office and opening up his very own place.”

  “With enough extra money to move out of the cottage surrounded by alpacas that use him for spitting target practice?”

  “He may have mentioned that a few dozen times.”

  Giulia squared off against her monitor and opened the folder uploaded from her camera. Hooray. Every single picture she’d taken from the tree perch was crisp and detailed. She chose five that captured the affair in its explicit glory and added them to her Flynt document. Then she downed the rest of the brownie coffee in one long swallow.

  Not enough. She grabbed her wallet and headed past Zane and Sidney without speaking.

  When she returned with a fresh cup, Zane said in his old scared-rabbit voice, “Are you okay? Your face is all red.”

  Giulia touched the back of her free hand to her cheeks. “Courtesy of Mr. Flynt. I trailed him to his mistress’ house this morning and took pictures of them doing things he should only be doing with his wife.”

  Zane’s mouth dropped open. “I won’t ask to see. Is that why the second coffee?”

  “Not only the second. This one is double-strength and black.”

  Sidney’s head popped up over her monitor. “You’re drinking black coffee? Did aliens abduct you and flip-flop your brain?”

  “I’m desperate. Flynt and his sexual antics require extreme coffee measures.”

  Sidney’s eyes got big. “Do I want to know?”

  “You do not.”

  She gave Giulia a thumbs-up. “Way to take one for the team.”

  “That’s why I make the big bucks.”

  Eleven

  Jane Pierce walked in waving her camera as Sidney and Zane hooted with laughter.

  “I have pictures!”

  Giulia fist-pumped. “Yes. Come plug in and show me this magically restored jewelry.”

  “Our Congressman brought his ex-underwear model wife to the fundraiser,” Jane said while the pictures uploaded. “Fanboys and fangirls crowded around her to get selfies. Nobody looked twice at me.”

  Giulia unhooked the USB cable from her tower. “You’ll make me very happy if our insurance fraud couple fought for one of the selfies.”

  Jane snorted. “Not a chance, but something better. They were so conscious of their image their posing pretty much did my job for me.”

  Giulia opened the folder of pictures. “Forty-seven?”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks. Can I drive?”

  Giulia relinquished her chair. Jane opened the photo viewer and clicked through the pictures too fast for Giulia to tell who was in them.

  “Here.” Giulia enlarged an image of their targets talking with a young couple in expensive-looking evening wear. “Mrs. Insurance Fraud’s nose got wicked out of joint when she priced that
woman’s dress. Look at her eyes. She can paste that social smile on but she can’t control her baby blues.” She clicked to the next picture. “I heard The Scoop talking in the background and then a camera click. It wasn’t mine; I put mine on silent. Both of them posed facing right at me. I got like six in a row. Here’s the diamond necklace and earrings they claimed were stolen. Look at that sparkle. Those trinkets could pay my rent for three years. Four.”

  “You’re terrific.” Giulia watched the photos speed past again. “You’ll be twice as terrific if you caught him wearing the Rolex.”

  “You can put ‘terrific’ on my letter of recommendation, because here…” click, click “…it is.”

  In the picture now on the screen, the Congressman was shaking hands with Mr. Insurance Fraud, the latter’s sleeve pulled back just far enough to reveal the miraculously restored stolen Rolex.

  “Rhetorical question,” Giulia said. “Was our Congressman impressed by said Rolex?”

  “Nah. He had one eye on his wife’s cleavage all night and the other eye on all the men checking out his wife’s cleavage. Her dress covered her naughty bits only by the grace of God and double-sided tape.”

  “I bet The Scoop didn’t thank God for an evening without a wardrobe malfunction. Their viewers will be so disappointed.” Giulia dragged her client chair next to Jane. “The Scoop and our corrupt politicians are blights on the county. I can’t decide which is the bigger blight. Scroll through all the pictures again, please. I want to select some of Mr. and Mrs. Fraud together and separately for the insurance company.”

  Giulia and Jane sorted the pictures into Yes, No, and Maybe folders.

  In less than half an hour, Giulia found three clean photographs of the one hundred fifty thousand dollar diamond earrings and necklace from different angles, and two of the husband with the Rolex peeking out from his sleeve.