Changing Habits: A Short Story (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery)

by Alice Loweecey

  “Yes, there is. She used any means possible to get us to do what she wanted.”

  He came around her desk and kissed the top of her brown curls. “Muirnín, sweetheart, you said you wanted a traditional wedding.”

  “Yes, a traditional Catholic wedding. But I’m not starting married life looking like Sister Mary Regina Coelis.” She looked into his eyes. “She disappeared three years ago when I jumped the wall.”

  “Except when you lecture me about justice.” He shuffled his feet.

  Giulia unbent. “Sidney’s mom is making me a headpiece from a late-blooming Christmas rose and some winter jasmine. Frank, please stop pushing this. I’m stressed out enough as it is.”

  He pulled her up out of her chair. “What’s wrong? You’re not having second thoughts about becoming a Driscoll, are you?’

  She kissed him. “No, of course not. You have to remember I’ve been completely on my own for three years. Your family is wonderful but they’re kind of overwhelming.”

  Frank’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, that’s it. Yeah, they can be enthusiastic. You’ll get used to them.”

  Sidney, their ever-perky admin, entered the office as they kissed again.

  “Get a room, you two.” She hung up her coat woven from the wool of her family farm’s alpacas.

  Giulia tried to break the embrace, but Frank held her tighter. “Technically, Driscoll Investigations is my room. So there.”

  Sidney tsked. “Some example you’re setting for the help. Hey, Giulia, mom says the jasmine will have plenty of flowers on it for the big day.”

  “Sidney understands me.” Giulia removed Frank’s arms and sat down. “I’m off to see the Bishop at nine.”

  “Oooh. Tell him you absolutely have to have permission for the organist to play ‘How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria’ when you walk down the aisle.”

  Giulia planted her forehead on her desk. “I take it back. I’m beset on all sides.”

  III

  An hour later, Giulia entered the office of the Bishop of the Diocese of Pittsburgh.

  “Ms. Falcone,” the old priest said, “thank you for being prompt as always. Please be seated.”

  Giulia chose the left-hand cushioned chair facing the Bishop across his highly polished desk.

  “How may Driscoll Investigations be of service, Your Excellency?”

  The Bishop frowned, adding more wrinkles to his lined face. “Another church has discovered its gold vessels have been stolen and replaced with gilded brass.”

  Giulia took out her iPad and unlocked it. “We have a spreadsheet of the other seven robberies. Which church got hit?”

  “Saint Thomas the Apostle.”

  Giulia didn’t change expression as she typed in the details the Bishop gave her.

  “I understand Saint Thomas is your parish.”

  Giulia nodded.

  “This will not adversely affect your investigation, I trust.”

  “Of course not, Your Excellency. We’ll report progress as it occurs.”

  She used the wipers on her car’s light coating of snow and checked in with Frank before she left the parking lot. “Change of plans. I’m heading to St. Thomas’ before my eleven-thirty. They’re the latest victim in the church vessels swap.”

  “Someone’s got zero fear of Hell. All right, we’ll meet up this afternoon to compare notes. Hold on.” A moment of silence. “Sidney says Father Carlos called a few minutes ago. Serendipity.”

  “Tell Sidney we will not, repeat, not be discussing which song the organist will play as I walk down the aisle.”

  Her phone rang twice during the twenty-minute drive to the small gothic church. She checked messages after she parked.

  The first number belonged to one of her future sisters-in-law. “Giulia, it’s Tina. Don’t forget we’re making favors tonight. Bring yourself and my brother-in-law. He doesn’t get to shirk the work. Seven o’clock.”

  She didn’t recognize the second number or the whispering voice on the message. “Nobody knows I’m calling and please don’t call back I’ll get into trouble but I found out you’re getting married and I think it’s totally cool and when you have kids make sure you’re a cool mom and don’t go all freaky Catholic like dad and I hope you’re real happy and I wish I could see you again but I can’t and it sucks ’bye.”

  Helena. Giulia stared at the phone for a long minute, picturing her oldest niece the last time she was allowed to see her. Four years ago now. She’d been a perky seven-year-old then. The perkiness came through in the clandestine message, but a strong hint of impending teenager did, too.

  Giulia had never wanted to shake her younger brother till his thick head rattled more than she did this moment.

  “There’s not a thing I can do about it. Focus, Falcone. You’re on the clock.”

  The friary’s front door opened at her first knock. Father Carlos looked as calm as always: Salt-and-pepper hair combed into place, black trousers and shirt pressed and neat. Only orange-striped high-top sneakers hinted at his individuality.

  “Giulia. I didn’t expect you to arrive so quickly. Please. Come in. I’m so sorry.”

  Those chopped sentences were the only indication everything wasn’t normal. She didn’t waste time.

  “Why are you apologizing?”

  He closed the door. “Because my church isn’t a haven anymore.”

  She stomped slush off her boots and planted herself. “Father Carlos, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say, and that includes the Blessing of the Animals incident last year.”

  He started to smile, but it faded.

  “Next you’re going to apologize because you didn’t develop clairvoyance in time to prevent the robbery.”

  “Well—”

  “Allow me to remind you that the Church doesn’t exactly approve of its official representatives deviating from accepted spiritual gifts.” She pointed down the hallway that smelled of bacon from the kitchen and old incense from the attached church. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get on with catching this thief. Lead me to your office, please.”

  “Oh. Yes. Of course.”

  The ten feet of hallway ended at his office door. Notebooks, Bibles, hymnals, and stacks of paper covered everything. The priest cleared off a chair and Giulia sat.

  “I’m going to type while we talk. Let’s pretend I can’t get my hands on the police reports. What happened when?”

  He sank into his rolling office chair like a weary old man. “The volunteers who come in on Saturday to clean the church discovered it during the confession hours. A new parishioner had joined the volunteers and brought her own homemade polish to clean the gold chalice and paten and the silver candlesticks. I understand her shriek brought everyone in the church to their feet.”

  In front of the Bishop, Giulia kept a straight face. Not in front of Father Carlos. “Let me guess: Mrs. Weber, the self-appointed Queen of Volunteers, pounded on the confessional door like the church was burning down.”

  The priest looked even sadder. “She did, and the parishioner who’d received absolution moments before committed the sin of blasphemous language in the subsequent altercation.”

  Giulia hooted with laughter. “I know exactly who you mean. It must’ve been epic.”

  When Father Carlos looked properly shocked, Giulia subsided. “Sorry. It’s been a rough couple of weeks. Okay. The newbie’s polish revealed the bogus chalice. Then what?”

  “I canceled confession and Father Robert ushered everyone out. The ladies applied the polish to the paten and the candlesticks and discovered they too had been switched.”

  Giulia held up her left hand and finished typing with her right. “Have I met him?”

  “Father Robert? Yes, he celebrated Mass for me last month when I took a brief vacation.”

  “About time, too. If you robbed a bank to take it, I shall turn a blind eye.” She raised her head to smile at him. “Robert… short, blond, moustache?” When he nodded, she said,
“Is he here today? I’d like to get the story from both of you.”

  Father Carlos rose. “I don’t think he’s left to make the rounds of sick visitations yet.” He opened the door and bellowed, “Robert!”

  Footsteps clomped down the stairs. “Coming.”

  Father Robert—Giulia had remembered him correctly—came into the hall dressed in black from head to foot except for the clerical collar.

  “Robert, this is Giulia Falcone from Driscoll Investigations. She’s here about the theft.”

  The new priest shook her hand. “I’ve seen you on Sundays, haven’t I? Nice to meet you. What do you want to know?”

  He gave her his version of Saturday’s events.

  Giulia said, “Did you see anyone you didn’t recognize skulking around the church lately?”

  Father Carlos finally smiled. “Unusual is standard for this neighborhood.”

  Giulia returned it. “Which is why I fit right in. You never installed those surveillance cameras Frank and I suggested, did you?”

  “Until three days ago, I said we couldn’t justify the expense.”

  Robert said in a diffident voice, “I suggested to Carlos that perhaps the thief needed the money more than the church needs the gold and silver.”

  Father Carlos’ pleasant face grew hard. “This is not a reenactment of Les Misérables. Saint Thomas’ is well known for assisting the poor. All anyone has to do is show need. The coward who stole from us will have to endure his just punishment.”

  Father Robert winced.

  Giulia bent her head over her tablet. Such a reaction wasn’t like him. She chalked it up to the line everyone has that they won’t cross. Like her and the bridal veil.

  “Was the switch made after Saturday morning Mass?” she said to Carlos.

  “I said early Mass on Saturday,” Robert said. “The chalice and paten looked the same to me. The police said those brass substitutes are a few ounces lighter, but I didn’t notice any difference.”

  Giulia saved her notes, wishing that Carlos had said that Mass instead. “Thank you. We’ll be in touch if we need more information.”

  “Don’t forget your wedding rehearsal. Friday at seven,” Father Carlos said as he walked her to the door.

  “Even if I might, I have an army of new in-laws who keep me on top of things.”

  He smiled down at her. “Were your final vows this nerve-wracking?”

  “Not by a long shot. Back then I already wore the dress, I didn’t have to move into a new place while preparing everything else, and the after-party consisted of vanilla sheet cake and weak coffee.”

  IV

  Over a late lunch at Frank’s desk, he pulled up the police reports from the other seven robberies on his computer screen. Giulia created a hand-drawn spreadsheet.

  Frank said as he chewed a bite of pepperoni and black olive pizza, “The new one confirms our idea that the thefts seem to have been committed in a specific order alternating between Cottonwood and Pittsburgh.”

  Giulia balanced a slice of pizza in her left hand and anchored the paper with her right arm as she wrote. “Can you print out maps?”

  She finished that slice of pizza and found a red Sharpie. When Frank set the maps in front of her, she overlapped them at the west edge of Pittsburgh and the east edge of Cottonwood.

  “They zigzag all over the map. See?” She drew circles over the streets where the churches had been robbed. “This time last year in Cottonwood. Then two in Pittsburgh, one each in both places, and the last two in Cottonwood. Hey, look at this.” She connected them. “They make a star of Bethlehem. There ought to be a nice, juicy conspiracy to go along with that image. Maybe the Knights of Columbus are really a nefarious underground organization with plans for world domination but they’re strapped for cash. Nobody would think twice about one of the Knights visiting their church.”

  Frank stared at her as though she’d begun speaking in tongues. “Are you okay?”

  Giulia sagged against the back of her chair. “I’m exhausted, overworked, nervous, and a hundred wedding details are wrestling each other for my attention at any given moment. What was your question?”

  He pointed to the red star on the map printouts. “Um, why do you see a pattern?”

  She chuckled. “I’m not bonkers, I just need a vacation. Which I will get in less than a week, so I’ll probably survive. The pattern popped out at me as soon as I drew the last circle.”

  “Well then,” Frank said in his usual voice, “what does the pattern have to do with anything?”

  “I’m not sure yet. It’s poking at the back of my mind. Have you gotten any hits on the stolen gold?”

  “I’ve got two possible leads. One pawnshop and one jeweler of less than stellar reputation. I’ll handle both of them.”

  “You’re a gentleman and a nursemaid.” She grinned at him. “Don’t get your feathers ruffled. I gather the proprietors of both those businesses will respond better to a male than a female.”

  “Exactly. You know the respect I have for the way people open up to you, but these two require a little testosterone.” He detached two more pieces of pizza and handed one to her.

  She caught the string of mozzarella before it landed on the maps. “I’ll take your word for it and not wonder if you’ve backslid into protective male mode.”

  V

  Frank rang his brother Sean’s doorbell at ten after seven that evening. Several high-pitched voices shouted, “Doorbell!”

  “Heaven help us, the kids are here.”

  Giulia poked him. “You know they love you. Be good.”

  The door opened and Sean took Giulia’s hand. “Welcome to the Driscoll pre-wedding chaos. I’ve been through it twice. The fridge has plenty of cold beer to fortify the male spirit.”

  “Nobody escapes the wedding favor assembly line,” Tina called out.

  “Damn.” Sean’s huge shoulders slumped. “Come in. It’s like ripping off a bandage. Get it over with as fast as you can.”

  Giulia left her sneakers on one of the mats by the front door. Frank waited for her and they walked into the massive kitchen together. Every Driscoll within a thirty-mile radius either sat at the two-part kitchen table plus card table, ferried supplies back and forth, or prevented impending disaster in the shape of various Driscoll offspring.

  Two thermoses on the far counter were labeled “coffee” and “hot water.” Cups and teabags, sugar and milk were set up nearby. Trays of cookies—molasses on the right and chocolate chip on the left—covered the top of the stove. Frenetic cartoon music came from the living room… and the soundtrack to The Sound of Music played from an iPod on top of the refrigerator.

  Frank’s two brothers laughed and high-fived each other at the look on Giulia’s face. Their mother stopped on her way to greet Giulia, took in the tableau, and detoured to the fridge. The music changed to Gaelic Storm’s latest project.

  “I’m ashamed of my own sons,” she said.

  “Come on, ma, it was funny.”

  She glared at them.

  “Sorry, Giulia,” they said in unison.

  Frank’s mother kissed Giulia. “You do all you can to raise them right, but their inner ten-year-old still manages to sneak out sometimes.”

  Giulia smiled at the woman who’d become like a favorite aunt since that first Driscoll Christmas party two years ago. “I think the correct response is a theatrical eyeroll while saying, ‘Men.’ ”

  “You bet it is,” Eva said. Her husband Danny gave her a pained look.

  Frank’s mother ushered Giulia and Frank to the end of the small table near the thermoses. “Grab caffeine and sugar, you two, and get to work. Frank, you’re on label duty, I don’t trust you with anything delicate. Giulia, you’re ribbons. Tina and Sean, you’re on break.”

  The assembly line of No-bake Vienna Coffee Ball Mix in crystal-patterned canning jars started back up. Frank’s oldest nephew handed a jar from one of the stacked boxes to his sister. She poured crushed shortbread cook
ies into the bottom and passed it to her mother. Darlene added powdered sugar and slid it toward her husband. Michael added almonds, Daniel added cocoa and espresso powders, Eva topped it off with cinnamon and twisted on the lid. Frank peeled the backing off a white and green label. The front half read ‘Happy not-baking from Frank and Giulia Driscoll’ plus the wedding date. The recipe covered the back half. Giulia tied green and white ribbons around the lid and curled them.

  An alternating niece or nephew set the finished product in the top box on a different stack. Every so often the stacker got bored and tagged another as a replacement.

  Eva said over the music and the husbands discussing soccer, “Giulia, first piece of essential advice: Never serve a Driscoll male breakfast in bed.”

  A chorus of groans from Frank and his brothers.

  Eva said, “Ignore them. If you do it even once, as a honeymoon treat, they’ll expect it every single weekend. Danny pouted for three months after I said Never Again. Then he got over it.”

  “Because she refused to cook at all till I stopped.”

  “And that,” Eva touched her husband’s lips, “is where our children got their pouts.”

  Two hours later, seventy-five handmade wedding favors nestled in six now-heavy boxes. Sean and Frank pushed them next to the refrigerator. Tina went to the living room doorway

  “Josh, Ben, Colin, Gwen, Joey; Chocolate milkshakes only if you don’t wake up the babies sleeping on the floor.”

  Five whispers of “Chocolate!” followed by five small pairs of feet running into the kitchen.

  Tina blended ice cream, chocolate syrup, and milk. Darlene brought out tequila and triple sec. Michael found glasses and salt. Giulia sliced limes. When the kids were settled with the latest Disney movie, the adults sat around the table with margaritas and snacks.

  “Giulia,” Frank’s mother said, “I’m glad to hear you’re starting marriage with my son by not knuckling under to him.”

  Giulia covered her confusion with a drink. “I’m not sure what you mean.”