“Excellent job, Jane. Thank you.” Giulia rubbed her temples. “Stress headache. I may have reached my multitasking limit.”
“I can write up this report in about an hour, then I have a job interview.” Jane somehow looked both excited and terrified. “Could you write that recommendation letter before I go? I don’t want to blow this.”
With a perfectly straight face, Giulia composed a generic letter praising Jane’s intelligence, work ethic, adaptability, and quick learning curve. Jimmy would see all this and remember everything Giulia had told him yesterday about Jane. With what Giulia knew about both the precinct and its captain, Jane would return here with a job offer in hand. One more monkey kicked successfully off Giulia’s back.
Jane ran out to the printer and walked back, reading the letter. “You make me sound like I could work at a real-life CSI.”
“You could, with some more training and experience. Don’t be modest at your interview. Make your potential boss afraid to let some other company snap you up.”
Jane looked down at her. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t make me quote Yoda at you.”
Jane smiled at that. “Yes, ma’am.”
Giulia’s face scrunched. “Please, no ‘ma’am.’ It makes me sound like an old woman.”
Her cell phone rang and Frank’s picture appeared on the screen. Jane went into the main office and closed the door. Giulia hit the FaceTime button.
“Hey, babe,” Frank said. Behind him, she caught glimpses of people crossing the room.
“Good news?” Giulia said. “Or have I fallen from the pedestal upon which Jimmy placed me three years ago?”
Two different phones rang in the crowded detectives’ space. Frank raised his voice. “Where is the innocent, simple ex-nun I married?”
Giulia stuck out the tip of her tongue at him. “Are you implying I would tread on Jimmy’s high opinion of me?”
Frank moved the phone far enough away so she could see him hold up one hand in surrender. “Let’s move on. If the combined expertise of myself and my partner plays out as expected, I should be able to get away tomorrow afternoon.” A pause as his desk phone rang. “Nash, can you get that? Thanks.” To Giulia: “Don’t make that face. It squinches up your lips. The last time our expertise failed us was more than a year ago, so expect me there tomorrow to defend you from snowbirds and kitsch.”
“I’ll give you a cover story to explain why I’m there a day ahead of you.” Scenarios started to play in her head.
“Hello?”
She blinked. “Sorry. Already brainstorming. I’ll call you tonight from the B&B.”
“Yes, ma’am.” An evil laugh. “I know you hate that word.”
“Everyone is conspiring against me this morning. Stop laughing, you. The plan is to wrap up everything possible, pack, and head up to the lake before rush hour.”
Frank’s partner photobombed the call. “Hey, Giulia. Frank, the bartender says he wants to talk.”
“Gotta go, hon. See you tomorrow night.” He ended the call.
Zane knocked five minutes later.
“Mrs. Flynt to see you.”
Giulia nodded. He ushered a statuesque woman with hip-length black hair into Giulia’s office and closed the door.
“Please have a seat, Mrs. Flynt.” Giulia didn’t smile as she handed her a dark green pocket folder with DI’s logo embossed in the lower right corner.
The woman opened it and read the summary page in the left-hand pocket.
Her face paled under her discreet makeup. She raised her eyes to Giulia’s.
“I was certain he had one woman on the side, but I had no idea he’d already picked out the next one.” Her voice maintained the coolness Giulia had heard in their first meeting.
“If you’ll open the bound report in the other pocket, I’ll run through our findings with you.”
Mrs. Flynt spread the report flat on the desk.
“The pictures from this morning are somewhat extreme,” Giulia said.
The perfect upper lip rose with the hint of a sneer. “You were able to capture him being serviced by his fancy piece.”
“Yes.”
The lips compressed. “Go on.”
Giulia turned the page for her. The telephoto pictures on the two-page spread told their own complete story, from foreplay to mutual orgasm.
Mrs. Flynt dug into her Coach bag. Giulia brought out a box of tissues from her bottom drawer and passed it across the desk. Her client snatched one and blew her nose.
“He treats women like we’re his personal dessert cart.” Her eyes never left the pictures as she groped for another tissue. “So much for his seven fifteen ‘tee time.’” With an abrupt movement she yanked the diamond eternity band from her ring finger and slammed it on the desk. “Do you know anyone who wants some useless jewelry?”
Giulia gave her a slight smile. “Perhaps it could help with the legal fees?”
Mrs. Flynt’s lips smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “The money in this family is mine. He married up.”
“A college starter fund for your children, then.”
Mrs. Flynt considered the idea. “I like it.” She stashed the ring in her purse. “My former life partner will have to pawn his wedding ring to survive this divorce. I’ll see to it that Melissa has her last few tax returns investigated as well.” Her smile widened. “Oh, yes, I know his mistress. She’s Franklin’s ex-wife.”
“Franklin?” Giulia ought to sell the rights to this story to a soap opera.
“The owner of Glacier Business Solutions. They’ve both been to our house for Christmas parties.” The smile vanished. “I feel sorry for that receptionist. My husband mentioned how she’d just completed her GED. She dropped out of high school to get a job to help pay for her father’s health expenses. I gather she’s afraid my husband will get her fired if she protests. She and I are going to have a talk.”
She read through the invoice behind the summary in the right-hand pocket, nodded, and wrote Giulia a check. Giulia sent a receipt to the printer. Zane brought it in and slipped out again. Mrs. Flynt checked it over and slid it behind the invoice.
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with old black-and-white horror movies, Ms. Driscoll, but my husband liked to call me Vampira. I have what used to be termed a wasp waist. When you put that together with my long hair and the right Halloween costume, I have a passing resemblance to the actress with that stage name. He thought the resemblance was such a good joke. Since I intend to bleed him dry financially and professionally, I wonder if he’ll still consider his joke so amusing.”
She closed the folder and stood. Giulia came around the desk to shake her hand.
“Thank you for an excellent and within-budget investigation. Your reputation is not exaggerated. I’ll make certain this doesn’t reach the divorce courts, so we won’t be seeing each other again.”
“You’re welcome,” Giulia said, keeping her voice and face neutral. “If your attorney needs clarification on any item in the report, our contact information is on the inside folder pocket.”
Giulia waited until the downstairs street door closed behind Mrs. Flynt before she let loose an impressed whistle.
Twelve
“Dear God, it’s after one.” Giulia grabbed her wallet. Jane and Sidney were already gone.
Zane said, “I’m taking a late lunch. I’ll mind the store.”
“I’m only going downstairs. Be right back.”
The lunch line at Common Grounds was worse than the breakfast line that morning. At a table near the counter, a man drank espresso and shouted a one-sided argument into his cell phone. Two businesswomen threatened to call the owner because of slow service. A total of three people were ahead of Giulia and four behind her. The smell of burnt toast
clashed with grilled cheese and hazelnut coffee.
Gary, the other daytime barista, steamed whole milk, wrapped two croissant sandwiches, and created a latte and a cappuccino to satisfy the businesswomen. The young man directly in front of Giulia read his order from his phone: Two large dark roasts with shots of almond, four bacon and egg white crumpets, two with turkey bacon, two with tofu bacon, one fat-free iced chai, one Earl Gray with lemon.
Gary stood in place for a long moment. Then the door opened and two children’s voices discussing Mario Kart strategy cut through the other conversations.
Mingmei appeared out of the chaos, ducked under the open part of the counter, and magicked a Common Grounds coffee-colored apron over her shorts and t-shirt.
“I’ve got the crumpets.”
Gary, energized, snatched four paper cups and transformed into a movie bartender. He popped a lemon wedge and tea bag in one, chai concentrate in another, and measured almond syrup into the remaining two.
He gave Giulia a puppy dog look when her turn at the counter arrived.
“Ms. Driscoll, I was just about to beg you to come behind the counter and help because you used to work here.” He switched the puppy dog eyes to Mingmei. “Coworkers shouldn’t be allowed a break on days like this.”
Mingmei finished making change for the complex phone order. “Elaine would’ve handed you your ass on a plate if you did that.” She smiled at the flunky as he trapped a bag of specialized muffin sandwiches under his chin. “Thank you; come again.” When the door chimes tinkled his exit, she whispered to Giulia, “People with complex hipster orders belong in Starbucks.” Without skipping a beat, she said to the woman behind Giulia, “Italian on cheese coming up.” She sliced a cheese croissant and layered prosciutto and provolone inside. To Giulia she said, “You, on the other hand, are choosing the honey-wheat muffin with Virginia ham, cucumbers, and Gouda.”
Giulia had no desire to disagree. “Yes, I am.”
Gary said, “Large French roast with vanilla?”
“I think so; so it won’t clash with the ham.”
“The customer is always right.” Gary poured and measured and handed her the coffee with a bow.
“Especially when she appreciates our service.” Mingmei blew Giulia a kiss. “Go away now. We’re busy.”
Giulia laughed and escaped. Twenty minutes later, as she savored the last of her coffee, footsteps pounded up the stairs. Jane skidded to a halt in the middle of the main office.
“I got a job, I got a job, I got a job!”
She ran into Giulia’s office and squeezed all the breath out of her. Zane came in and rescued Giulia’s lungs by high-fiving Jane.
This was a new Jane: Neither the bristly woman-against-the-world nor the shy, semi-confident Jane who’d been appearing more often toward the end of her tenure at DI. Giulia almost didn’t recognize happy Jane.
“Personal assistant to Captain James Reilly, your husband’s boss, Ms. D. Captain Reilly is a lot stricter than you are, but it’s a whole different atmosphere at the police station. He said he completely trusted your letter of recommendation and I start in two weeks right after I’m done here, and oh my God, a full-time job with a real salary so I can finally get out of the shithole I’ve been living in because my asshole ex left me with nothing.” She took a breath. “Oops. Sorry about the language, but I have a job!”
Giulia applauded. “I’m thrilled for you. Can you stop floating for a group meeting?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. What’s up?” She sat on Sidney’s desk.
“Zane, can you get Sidney on the phone?”
When Sidney joined them on speaker, Giulia said, “I’m heading out to Stone’s Throw this afternoon to earn Mac—Ms. Stone’s—beautiful chunk of money. She has either an angry ghost, a sabotaging guest, or an underhanded psychic.”
“I vote sabotaging guest,” Sidney’s echoey voice said.
“Frankly, so do I,” Giulia said. “Guest or psychic, that is. Thus my ongoing self-defense lessons and gun range practice.”
“The well-dressed PI never leaves home without her Glock,” Zane said. “But have you considered the one in one thousand chance the troubles are supernatural rather than mundane?”
Giulia overrode the spluttering noises coming from the speakerphone. “Sidney, do not rant. You’ll upset Jessamine. Zane, I have. If that’s the case, I know how to cleanse a house with sage and salt.”
Zane shook his head with emphasis. “Don’t cleanse without trying to communicate first. Even if the spirit appears to be attacking at random, it will have a reason.”
A cross between a growl and a moan came from the speaker. “Zane, if my head explodes, you’re responsible.”
Jane spoke up. “I’m riding the fence on this one. My tattoo artist has some wild stories about ghosts, and not all of them involve magic mushrooms.”
Giulia held up her iPad. “Ghosts or not, I’m going to be out of town for several days. May I have the specifics of everyone’s caseload?”
Zane said, “I’ve got the preliminary research for the twins looking for their birth mother.”
Sidney said, “A deadbeat dad and sussing out the possible humongous evangelical church embezzlement.”
Jane said, “I’m helping both of them, and they’re also walking me through the bride and groom prenup life histories for the Van Alstyne wedding.”
Giulia typed everything in. “The Flynt case is finished, but I’ve still got two background checks for the Diocese. Jane, it’s a good thing you’re here for two more weeks. Can you and Sidney split the background checks?”
“No problem,” Sidney said. “Are you going there as an investigator or as a paying guest?”
“As a guest. Frank’s coming to give me a perfect cover as a couple on vacation. I’ll try to get back here at least once, especially if the Wi-Fi out there isn’t powerful enough.”
“Take lots of ghost pictures,” Sidney said. “The Scoop will be all over you like a rash. They’ll probably give you your very own half-hour guest spot.”
Giulia aimed a completely fake smile at the phone. “If I fire you for cursing me with The Scoop, how will you be able to keep Jessamine in all-natural baby food?”
The only answer from the phone was the theme from Ghostbusters.
Thirteen
At ten after six, finally free of rush-hour traffic, the Nunmobile exited I-79 at 285 West. As Giulia circled the off-ramp, she could just see the top of the lighthouse. At the end of the ramp she saw water and turned left on Water Street. Cute.
Giulia presumed the Conneaut Lake beach possessed a wide strip of accessible sand, but she couldn’t see much of it. Kids running and shrieking, old couples walking, and young ones kissing covered ninety percent of the space she glimpsed from the car. A volleyball game off to one side revealed the largest patch of actual sand visible for a quarter mile.
“It should be right up here somewhere—” Her words cut off in a gasp as she slammed on the brakes.
A beach ball bounced off the hood. A little boy chased it into the street and stopped a whisker away from the car’s hood. An adult male dashed after the boy and scooped him up.
“Thanks.” He nodded at Giulia.
Cars going in the opposite direction also stopped. The man kicked the ball onto the far sidewalk and followed it out of danger to the boy and himself.
Giulia blew out a breath. “Adrenaline is more effective than espresso.”
The street rose at a gentle angle as she neared the lighthouse. Giulia had thought it would be on its own point of land. Instead, a lighthouse-shaped sign directed her to an open wrought-iron gate. It arched six feet above the Nunmobile, a pattern of four-petaled flowers along its upward curve. The wide driveway beyond split in two around a grassy island. She drove around the left-hand side of the oval towar
d a carriage house larger than her and Frank’s little Cape Cod. The carriage house concealed an eight-car parking lot on the side away from the entrance drive.
Giulia removed her suitcase from the trunk and took in the view: The lake beyond, lined with pine trees and shimmering in the afternoon sun, framed a brick three-story house with a white porch. Behind and to the left rose a lighthouse built out of the same deep red bricks as the house, its gallery visible two stories above the house’s roof.
With the picturesque buildings shielding her from the noises of Sea-Doos on the lake and people on the beach, Stone’s Throw couldn’t have looked less like a haunted lighthouse.
Giulia walked up the porch steps and petted a calico cat sitting in a regal pose on a white wicker chair. A beagle lying next to the chair opened one eye when Giulia stroked the cat, didn’t appear to consider Giulia a threat, and closed it again.
Giulia knocked on the screen door frame and opened the door, walking into an antique kitchen complete with trestle table, coal-fired stove, vintage high chair, and deep enamel sink with attached water pump. Mac entered from a doorway to the left, holding a can of spray polish and a dustcloth.
“Welcome to Stone’s Throw. I’m MacAllister Stone, the owner. Please call me Mac. Everyone does. You must be Giulia Driscoll.” She stage-winked at Giulia as they shook hands.
Laughter came from down a hallway opposite the screen door.
“Pleased to meet you,” Giulia said. “My husband had a work emergency, but he’ll arrive tomorrow.”
“That’s no way to start a vacation.” Mac moved toward the hallway. “Let me show you up to your room. Breakfast is at nine a.m. every day including weekends. We have a bonfire on the beach Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday. Eight o’clock. S’mores fixings are provided.” She stopped at the second floor landing. “What’s a vacation on the beach without a bit of your childhood thrown in, right?” She continued toward the lake side of the house. “I’ve put you in the Sand Dollar room, across the hall from the library.”
Second To Nun (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 2) Page 5
