Second To Nun (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 2)

by Alice Loweecey

Flynt banged his shoulder against the car door, spit flying from his lips again. The Scoop’s camera swung toward the police car and its spotlight glared on Flynt’s face shoved into the window. The police took off.

  Giulia threaded through the thinning crowd and escaped inside the stairwell. Sidney followed, Zane a second later, while The Scoop chased the police car.

  Up in the office with the outer door closed and locked, Giulia said, “I’m sorry, guys. I’ll stop at the precinct before I drive back to the lake.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Sidney said.

  “No worries, Ms. D,” Zane said. “This job gives me so many ways to impress my gamer gang. A lot of them are either the fat, pasty geek stereotype or the skeletal, pasty geek stereotype, with or without zits. I’m creating my own badass legend.”

  Giulia’s neck muscles unclenched. “I’m so glad you can look at it that way.”

  “Really, Ms. D., we’re fine. Chicks dig scars, not that drunk-and-stupid gave me a scar. But chicks dig true stories of danger, and I have a date tomorrow night. The Scoop promised to broadcast my interview at the halfway point of their show tomorrow afternoon.”

  Sidney added, “And I’ll have a story to tell Olivier over supper.”

  “New rule for DI starting today,” Giulia said. “No more divorce cases.”

  Thirty-Two

  Back in her own office, the remaining Stone’s Throw research had become much more attractive. Walter first. Giulia played the recording she’d made of Frank’s report after his fishing trip while she searched for Walter’s web history.

  Sheesh. Even more drinking photos. Walter holding a trophy from a college fishing competition. Walter at one middle-management job after another. Fast food. Video store. Retail sales in computers, shoes, appliances, sporting goods. His smile grew more mechanical with each photograph. His eyes stared into the camera without expression.

  “I’d have chucked it all and bought a tiny boat rental business on the lake too, Walter.”

  She browsed the boat rental website. The prices were reasonable for rentals and repairs of boats and fishing equipment. Reasonable plus small market on top of a seasonal-only business didn’t make anyone rich.

  “So, Walter: Did you want freedom from the grind or are you scoping out the legendary family gold?”

  She rubbed her eyes. Many more of these questions and she’d be able to build her own private retreat with them and beat her head against their inflexible walls.

  CeCe and Roy.

  She got as far as the first of the million-plus results before her higher-level cognitive functions came back from sabbatical.

  That CeCe and Roy. She should’ve recognized their names now that she’d acquired close to a dozen nieces and nephews.

  The children’s entertainers boasted eight moderately successful recording projects. Proprietary home-based DVDs for learning guitar, banjo, and keyboard. Voice-over credits in several video games.

  Their public face on the Net showed evidence of careful crafting and monitoring. No drinking photos. No unguarded Tweets. Not an R-rated word from either. Smiles in all their pictures: Teaching, interviews, visits to children’s hospitals.

  Except in one: A long-distance paparazzi shot of a nurse wheeling CeCe out of a hospital, Roy at her side. No, not a hospital. Giulia zoomed in. A birthing center. Cece’s arms were empty.

  Giulia grabbed screenshots. What Frank used to call her “bleeding heart instincts” told her to cross this couple off her suspect list. Three years of detective experience made her override sympathy and slap them into the list. At the bottom.

  Onward to MacAllister Stone.

  No Facebook or Twitter accounts, but a boatload of professional accolades. Young Mac aged into older Mac with grace as her blonde hair turned silver and her smooth face gathered laugh lines and worry lines. Her offices, all of which looked like clones of each other, became crowded with more and more awards each year.

  The inn’s property survey and deed were easy to find. Mac had certainly bought the lighthouse at a bargain, but Giulia had been right about the obscene price of the renovations. “Gutted” would indeed have been the only way to begin.

  Write-ups in historical and tourism magazines showcased the B&B at its opening and its five-year anniversary. A handful of ghost hunters and ghost debunkers published about it as well, all with conflicting information. No surprise there.

  Giulia spent some time researching the Stone family ancestors and treasure hunting. Those were a pair of black holes to get lost in forever. Genealogy sites proved the existence of the stagecoach-robbing Stone. Also several succeeding generations of Stones, most with families large enough to populate two basketball teams, plus substitutes on the benches. The stagecoach robber starred in a few penny dreadfuls, as well as compilations of legends of the Wild West.

  That led to the treasure hunters. The fervor of recent converts to Catholicism or the latest diet miracle was a guttering candle flame compared to the inferno in the hearts of True Believers in buried treasure. According to the many websites, Giulia was a fool if she didn’t abandon DI and purchase a metal detector and equipment to create 3-D sonar images of mounds. If mounds weren’t calling to her, then she must purchase maps and follow obscure diary entries from various criminals who’d secreted their loot and died before they could spend it. A fortune could be hers if only she put forth the effort.

  The phone rang in the outer office. Her concentration broken, Giulia checked the clock in her taskbar. Four ten. She still needed to research further into Rowan, but if she wanted to talk to Jimmy and the district attorney, she had to haul it.

  No choice. She’d have to suffer under Stone Throw’s slug-paced Wi-Fi to dig deeper into Lady Rowan, friend of Mac, diviner of the future through the Tarot.

  Several mouse clicks later, all her research was emailed to herself for retrieval on her iPad. She called the precinct and asked the Bond Girl-in-training receptionist to let Jimmy know she’d be over there by four thirty.

  She turned everything off and opened her office door. “Look at these two hard workers. The totalitarian dictator in me is pleased.”

  Zane choked. Sidney turned big chocolate chip eyes on Giulia and said, “Your oppressive regime will topple in a cloud of hazelnut coffee-scented dust. The Scoop will broadcast exclusive reports of our bloodless coup.”

  Giulia laughed so hard she had to sit in Zane’s client chair or fall down. “S-stop or I’ll g-get the hiccups.”

  “Serves you right. I thought you’d given up the convent’s tyrannical ways.”

  Giulia gasped several times and succeeded in cutting off her helpless laughter. “Who are you and what have you done with Sidney?”

  “I’ve been reading the classics to Jessamine every night after supper. Dumas and Dickens rub off on you really quick.”

  “Jessamine will grow up to win the Pulitzer Prize in Literature.”

  “Or she’ll breed a better, softer, woollier alpaca and make us all rich. Olivier would like the Pulitzer Prize. Mom and Dad would like the better alpaca.” She glanced at her screen. “That’s the thirty-seventh garbage email today. Zane’s going to look into better anti-spam filters.”

  Zane said in his old, timid way, which didn’t suit his Humphrey Bogart voice at all, “If that’s okay with you, Ms. D.”

  Giulia refrained from lecturing him. “Of course it’s okay. Why would I hire an MIT grad and not listen to him on technical issues?” She stood. “I’m off to hunt ghosts and vandals.”

  “Ghosts? More than one?” Zane said.

  “If there is a ghost, singular, it’s a Stone ancestor who fell off the lighthouse Widow’s Walk when she saw her husband drown. Sidney, I heard that. An open mind is a desirable attribute in this profession.”

  Sidney cleared her throat. “Is any part of that true?”<
br />
  “Well, there was a Dorothea who married Ephraim Stone and who both died on October ninth, 1918. But the rest of it? I couldn’t discover any confirmation in my research today. There may be evidence of a rigged white nightgown which flies up the lighthouse stairs. I hope it’s only used during Halloween week.”

  “A nightgown on wires is amateur,” Zane said. “My fraternity knew how to scare people at Halloween. We set up a morgue one year and only half the bodies under sheets were fake. We dressed as zombies and hid in the bushes. We dressed as ghosts and hid in the bedrooms and waited for the horny couples to sneak off for a quickie. My senior year we turned the frat house into a fairy tale castle. The girls loved it until we ripped off the Prince Charming masks and splattered them with fake blood and realistic amputated body parts. We went through a lot of booze after that reveal.”

  Giulia’s mouth was hanging open. She closed it, swallowed, and said, “Next week we’re going to have a discussion about you going undercover.” She picked up her purse. “Now I’m off to see the district attorney about a restraining order.”

  Sidney said, “You are? Thanks.”

  Giulia gave Sidney her “no one appreciates me” stare. “A client’s crazy husband threatens and attacks us and you’re surprised I’m taking action? Baby Brain is supposed to go away after you give birth.”

  Sidney giggled. “It has, I swear. If we catch The Scoop lurking, we’ll run the other way.”

  “I’ll be back in the office as soon as I solve this lighthouse mystery.” She listened to herself. “I’m living in a Scooby-Doo episode.”

  “Ruh-roh!” Zane and Sidney said together.

  Thirty-Three

  Criminals must have taken the day off, because for the first time in months Giulia wasn’t deafened by screaming lowlifes as soon as she entered the police station.

  The Bond Girl was a vision in teal today, from eyeshadow to fingernails to form-fitting sundress. Giulia had no doubt her pedicure matched as well.

  “Katelyn,” Giulia said, “I keep expecting your lipstick to match no matter what.”

  The receptionist pouted. “It did before I left the house, Ms. Driscoll, but my fiancé said only clowns wear that color on their lips.”

  Giulia planted her elbows on the desk. “Did I hear the ‘f’ word?”

  Katelyn’s rose-tinted lips parted in a wide smile. She held up her left hand. The round diamond set in a circle of diminutive blue, pink, yellow, and green diamonds caught the fluorescent light like a laser show.

  “I sort of keep staring at it and forgetting to work.”

  “It’s gorgeous. Congratulations. When’s the wedding?”

  “Not ’til next summer. We have tons of family who have to make travel plans. I sent him out to find extra-strength condoms so we don’t have even the slightest chance of me getting pregnant. I’ve got the clingiest gown picked out. His ex-girlfriends and my ex-boyfriends will die from envy.” The smile turned a shade evil.

  Giulia laughed. “Make sure your friends take pictures.”

  “I’ve already got my photo brigade on alert.” She pressed a button on her multi-line phone. “Captain Reilly? Ms. Driscoll is here.”

  The young man and older woman in handcuffs at separate desks ignored Giulia as she passed them. The detectives all waved at her. Jimmy met her at the door of his office.

  “Giulia, we finally have a quiet day for your visit.”

  She pecked his cheek. “I don’t know how to handle it.”

  When he closed them into his office, he said, “That Jane you sent over for me to interview handled it like a pro. We had three meth-cooking morons in here when she came. The usual: Swearing, making threats, trying to get out of the cuffs to fight each other over whose fault the bust was. She never blinked. One of them made a crack about her hair and she came back with a putdown that actually shut the moron up.”

  “I told you she was good. If I didn’t have Sidney I’d hire her, but no one can replace Sidney.” She sat down.

  Jimmy pulled out his chair. “She’s not you, but she’s got what it takes. I’m plowing through the mountain of paperwork the City requires. It’ll be my last assistant-less act.”

  A single knock at the door and Jimmy opened it on a tall, thin, bald man with flappy ears.

  “Ed, thanks for coming. This is Giulia Driscoll, head of Driscoll Investigations. Giulia, Ed Stanek, District Attorney.”

  Giulia shook his hand. “How are your youngest daughter’s trumpet lessons progressing?”

  Stanek winced. “She stays on key about half the time now. Marsha says if I buy earplugs I’ll scar my daughter for life. Does my wife care about my protesting eardrums? No.”

  Jimmy glanced from one to the other. “Didn’t know you’d met.”

  Giulia said, “Remember that baby kidnapping case a few years back? We worked out my testimony over lots of coffee and pie at his house. His wife makes a pear and cherry pie to die for.”

  “I’ll pass on your compliment.” Stanek cleared a dozen file folders off a third chair and sat. “Reilly says you want an order of protection.”

  Giulia summarized the Flynt investigation up to that morning’s incident. Jimmy handed him a copy of the police report.

  “I doubt he’ll try anything at the office again,” Giulia said. “Not after the way we took him down. But in case he does, I’d like legal ammunition. Zane and I can take care of ourselves, but Sidney can’t, not so soon after having a baby.”

  Stanek scribbled on a legal pad. “This won’t be a problem. I’ll set up a date for you to appear before one of the judges to make it official. Monday’s already shot, so…” He took a tablet out of his briefcase and opened a calendar program. “How’s Wednesday afternoon look?”

  Giulia made a face. “I’m up at Conneaut Lake on a case. Email me with a firm time so I can let my people know and we’ll rearrange our schedules.”

  “Good. Expect something from me tomorrow morning.” He dropped the papers, legal pad, and tablet into the briefcase and snapped it closed. “Too many assholes in the world. Speaking of, Reilly, can one of your men let me into the holding cells? A DUI with manslaughter wants to plead and his lawyer should already be back there.”

  “Works for me.” Jimmy stood. “Giulia, always good to see you. Tell Frank I’ve piled so much work on his desk he won’t be able to see it.”

  “With pleasure.” She shook the D.A.’s hand. “Thanks for your help. Your daughter will become a better musician soon.”

  He winced again. “If only I could invent a way to speed up that process.”

  Giulia pecked Jimmy on the cheek. “I’ll bring Frank back full of energy and ready to work.”

  “I’ll try to have a nice, juicy homicide for him. Make him earn his keep.”

  Thirty-Four

  Throughout supper at the Jimmy Buffet-themed bar and grill, Giulia threatened Frank with spicy pickle spears. She also caught him up on all her research and the Flynt incident.

  She added flair to Zane’s explanation of his new way to impress women, but when Frank didn’t respond, she refocused. His “Hulk Smash” air stopped her.

  “Honey?”

  Frank’s voice came out low and gravelly. “If I ever see Flynt in person, I will tear off his balls and shove them down his filthy throat.”

  Giulia waited several seconds for the goosebumps his voice raised to subside. “Yes. Well, it’s unlikely he’ll show his face at the office, and if he has the ambition to track me down at home we both have guns.” She offered him the rest of her fries. “I’m satiated with pickles and red meat.”

  They returned to Stone’s Throw in time for the evening’s cookies and iced tea.

  Frank chose a lemon cookie from the tray and dialed a number on his phone as he walked through the sunroom. “VanHorne? Drisc
oll. Got your email. What’s up with…” His voice faded as he moved away from the house’s open windows toward the beach.

  Giulia poured herself an iced tea and looked through the collection of CDs beneath the cathedral radio/CD player. Marion and Anthony sat on the couch reading together from a tablet.

  “What if we sell the second cottage?” Anthony said. “We haven’t used it in two years.”

  “The kids used it…no, you’re right. That was last year.”

  From the corner of her eye, Giulia watched Marion sip tea and poke the tablet screen.

  “The cottage won’t net enough. Look at the size of this place. We’ll have to ask Mac what her monthly operating costs are.”

  Anthony glanced at Giulia, then said to Marion, “Do you think that’s a good strategy?”

  Marion’s voice grew sly. “Darling, you should trust me when dealing with other women.”

  Giulia opened a CD case and pretended to read the song list, made a face, and put it back.

  Marion continued, “What are the comparison numbers between one with a hook, like this one, and one that’s simply another bed and breakfast?”

  Giulia reshelved the CDs and clapped her hand to her pocket. She took out her phone, got up off her knees, and touched the screen as she walked slowly out of the living room.

  Anthony said, “The numbers bear out my initial thought that a hook increases business by four to seven percent in any given month.”

  Giulia pretended to answer the email she hadn’t received and continued into the sunroom. The soft lights in the room turned the world outside the windows solid black.

  Marion and Anthony’s voices floated through the open doorway, crunching numbers, debating lakeside property versus historically significant sites versus areas with a current high tourism rate.

  Giulia opened mahjong on her phone and played a game as she listened without giving any real attention to the tiles.