Back in the Habit (10 page)

Sixteen

Giulia took a head
count as she waited just inside the archway to the chapel entrance hall. One hundred forty-eight. No wonder the refectory resembled the wall-to-wall people and food stands of the Taste of Pittsburgh festival. When the Postulant Mistress passed through the refectory door last of all, Giulia walked through the chapel and the vestry and out into the supply hall. The garden door locked itself behind her.

“It doesn't matter; getting in is the easy part. Let them speculate on what I've been up to when I come back. Entertainment hostess, that's me.”

The chill wind rustled the crimson maple leaves. Giulia breathed it in. “Freedom. What a beautiful scent.”

She opened her phone and texted Frank. He replied ten seconds later.

Giulia jogged right, left, right, and around the narrow flagstone paths in the gardens. The wall ended at the driveway—much too close to the front door for her tastes, but some things couldn't be helped. She continued down the driveway, rubbing her arms—it felt like mid-November, not early October. Stupid to run out without her coat, but the escape window had opened and she knew better than to ignore it.

Frank's Camry idled halfway down the block. Giulia started to run toward it, but remembered what she was supposed to be. Slowing to a brisk walk only took an extra minute, but the sidewalk appeared to stretch with every step, keeping her from her goal: the Camry's open passenger door.

“Where's your coat?” Frank's annoyed voice snapped her hallucination.

“I grabbed escape when opportunity presented itself.” She closed the car door and held out her hands to the vents. “My coat wasn't available.”

“Geez, it's that bad?” He put the car in gear and drove away.

“Hello to you too.”

“Hi. We're going to Scarpulla's Deli. They gave us the world's best sandwiches when we were on stakeouts.” He beat a yellow light at a small intersection.

Giulia stretched her toes to catch the lovely heat from the floor vents. “Won't that be crowded and exposed?”

“Nope. They added booths last year when they reinvented as a '50s nostalgia place. We'll have just enough privacy to talk over the noise.”

Giulia leaned back in the gray cloth seat. She hadn't realized how much the tension monkey on her shoulders weighed till she was—temporarily—back in the real world. Out where people didn't obsess over cobwebby ideas of behavior. Or paw through your underwear.
Frank did once, though, when Urnu the Snake and his sister tried to kill me.
A smile spread across her face.
I can overlook Frank's drawer-searching, since his goal was to keep the world from seeing me naked.
The smile vanished.
But I won't overlook Mary Stephen's snooping.

“What are you thinking about? You look like you're ready to clock someone.”

“Remember how I said you'd have to pay for counseling after this? If things keep heading in the same direction, you might have to post bail for me.”

The upcoming light turned red and he braked too hard. “What kind of drama's going on in there?”

Giulia bounced a bit, pulling her veil off-kilter. “Stupid design.” She adjusted it, tucking in her hair. “If I Velcro it tight enough not to slip, it gives me a headache. It's not just drama in there, it's melodrama. Complete with ghosts and clues no one understands and surprise villains poking their noses where they most certainly don't belong.”

“How're you fitting in?”

“Hah. Where should I start?” She gave him a wicked grin. “If you were to drop me off within sight of a window and then kiss me goodbye … oh, the scandal. I think I'd enjoy the instant chaos.”

Frank looked sideways at her. “ Yeah, um, not while you're dressed the part.”

“I know. I'm yanking your chain.” She watched the lunch crowd hurrying along the sidewalks. “Are we there yet?”

He snorted. “What are you, four?”

“I want one of these amazing sandwiches. Wait a minute. What was a Cottonwood policeman doing on a stakeout in Pittsburgh?”

“I graduated from the police academy here. Bigger city, more opportunity, all of that.” He signaled a left turn and waited for traffic. “Plus I got out from under my brothers' shadows.”

“That's right, you're the baby.”

He pulled into the deli's parking lot. “Spoken like the oldest. Maybe I should ask your brother what he thinks of you.”

“He'll whine about how I threw shoes at him from the top of the stairs, neglecting to mention that he flung them back from the bottom of the same stairs. Then he'll announce that I'm a disgrace to the family and try to recruit you into the Latin Mass Society.”

Frank turned toward her. “You threw shoes at your brother? But you're all about doing the correct thing. Your picture should be in the paper next to a manners advice column.”

“Gosh, thanks. In other words, I'm still repressed and uptight.”

He avoided her eyes. “No, that's not what I meant.”

“Let's just get lunch and compare notes.”

He opened her door. “I wish you weren't wearing that outfit. It sticks out.”

She shrugged. “That's its purpose. If someone asks, you'd better tell them I'm your cousin. Nuns don't have intimate lunch dates with men.”

Frank's Adam's apple bobbed. “Holy sh—crap. I didn't think of that. I keep thinking you're just Giulia.”

“Good. That's exactly what I am: Giulia wearing a disguise.” She looked up into his face. “Your eyes are bloodshot. What have you been doing?”

“You sound like Sidney. She's been pushing this disgusting herb tea on me every morning. I've been working late with Jimmy and the narc guys, pulling together the pieces of the MS Contin ring.”

“The what?” Giulia shivered in the steady wind. “Can we go inside? This habit isn't all-weather.”

He opened the restaurant door for her. A Babel of voices and a wave of odors crashed against them. Giulia picked out tomato soup, bacon, and pumpkin pie.

“They ain't been the same since the Steel Curtain.”

“At least the Penguins scored—”

“… wants to be Paris Hilton for Halloween …”

Over all of it Elvis sang about love and loss. Laminated movie posters from 1950s classics muted the glowing white walls:
Love Me Tender
,
The Wild One
,
Harvey
,
The Girl Can't Help It
. Cherry-red swivel stools lined a long chrome and Formica counter, the shelf behind it loaded with milkshake machines, soda dispensers, and two old-fashioned coffee urns.

The hostess led them along the row of booths on the opposite wall. The black-and-white checked linoleum offset the red vinyl booths with their speckled tables. A few lunch patrons looked up when Giulia passed, and their conversations paused. She kept her face neutral. Most booths were occupied, and the busboy washed down one smack in the center just as the hostess neared it.

Frank unbuttoned his trench coat while Giulia studied the menu with a feeling akin to rapture. “Frank, I owe you. They have sopressata clubs.”

He folded the coat and set it next to him on the seat. “Whatever that is, it can't beat a cheesesteak hoagie.”

“O ye of limited palate. I'll give you a bite of mine and you'll understand.”

Their waitress, wearing a pink-and-white striped poodle skirt, starched blouse, and cap, appeared with pencil and pad. She stared at Giulia, took their orders, and promised to bring their drinks.

“I haven't missed being on display like a department store Santa.”

“Yeah, I caught the looks. Did you hear how the suits in front stopped discussing the cup sizes of their weekend dates?”

Giulia rolled her eyes. “No, thank God. So what is Sidney trying to make you drink?”

He groaned. “Eyebright and chickweed tea with a liquid B-vitamin complex added. I'd rather eat pickled beets than drink it, and pickled beets make me puke. Sorry.” He leaned forward. “Don't tell Sidney, but the B-vitamin thing really works.”

Giulia laughed. “If you admit her remedy works, she'll be worse than my uncle after he got born-again. He preached Pentecostalism at every family gathering. My cousin spilled beer on him once during a rant—accidentally, of course.”

Their Cokes arrived. Giulia raised her classic-design glass. “To Sidney and Olivier.”

Frank touched his glass to hers. “May they have a long life of compromise and Olivier sneaking out for red meat and sugar.”

“And Sidney spinning alpaca wool for baby blankets.”

“I'll be glad when you get back. She's bursting to talk about the proposal, the plans, all that girl stuff. We need you.”

Giulia grinned at him. “Coward.”

A plate filled with a tall sandwich and fries slid under Giulia's chin.

“And the cheesesteak for you, sir. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thanks; we're good.” Frank squeezed a Pollock painting of ketchup over his fries. “I haven't eaten anything today.”

Giulia swallowed two fries at once. “I'm living on fake eggs and chicken-shaped cardboard. This is Heaven.”

“Tell me what you've got.” He reached into the folds of his coat and brought out a pen and a covered six-by-nine notepad from the inner pocket.

Between bites of spiced meat and fries—“All food should taste this wonderful”—she told him about Sister Fabian's useless folder of information, the Fabian-Ray affair, little Sister Arnulf, the Novices, and the groping of the underwear.

“She did what? What are you wearing underneath that thing?”

“Frank!” Giulia hissed. “Keep your voice down. You don't talk to nuns like that.”

His head swiveled as he checked out the nearby tables. “Sorry. I think we just shocked a few Catholics.”

“First you don't want to touch me because I'm in habit,” she kept her voice to a whisper, “and now you forget it altogether. What's the matter with you? You're more professional than this.”

“Hell, yes, I know. The extra hours over at the station are short-circuiting my internal censors.” He drank the rest of his Coke. “I need about three days' worth of sleep.”

“I want to know how you're faring with your old colleagues, but we don't have time right now. Do you have enough brainpower to focus on this case I'm working on?”

“Yes, of course. Sorry.” He signaled the waitress with his empty glass. “Caffeine'll do it.”

“At first I was sure that it could've only been Fabian in my room. You know, because I won't come to her office to give the daily progress reports she demands. I figured she figures I'm hiding reams of notes and coded secrets I've unearthed.” She finished another quarter of the club sandwich and told him of this morning's Fabian snub.

The waitress brought two Cokes and took Frank's empty plate. He declined dessert. The women at the booth behind Frank left, sneaking glances at Giulia and whispering to each other.

“Maybe we should've gone somewhere private for lunch.”

Frank's eyebrows gave the obvious answer.

“Yeah, all right. Where would an adult male and a nun go that wouldn't cause gossip? Nowhere. I hate this.” She sucked down a third of her new Coke.

“Why would this nun search your room anyway? Do you two have unfinished business?”

“You could say that. She likes to use people as stepping stones to promotion. Yesterday was the first time we've seen each other in six years, and we kind of picked up where we'd left off.”

Frank chewed an ice cube. “A catfight? You?”

She felt a blush begin. “She's an instant irritation. Plus, she doesn't like how I got out of her sphere and made something of a life for myself. When I was still in the convent, that is.”

“She thinks you're still in-in?”

“Sure. So does everyone. Nobody's said a word about my cover story.” She started the last quarter of the sandwich. “The place is chaos. For meals I'm at a table with Sisters from two different states. The merger's the best setting we could've hoped for.”

“Back to the catfight. You think this nun went through your stuff because of an old grudge?”

“We've made it a new grudge now. We sort of had a huge fight in front of the whole choir this morning.”

Laughter. “If only we'd planted a closed-circuit camera.”

She scowled at him. “Thanks. Fabian actually came to my rescue. Not because of any love for me, but because Mary Stephen was about to reveal the contents of the folder Fabian gave me.”

“In front of everyone? Good thing then.”

“There's no lock on my door, so I won't be able to keep her out. I stashed the folder behind the bottom drawer of the dresser, so it'll take her more time to find it and she'll have to make noise. Those drawers like to stick.” The last bite of sandwich disappeared. “She'll probably try again tonight if I'm up late. I'm putting all my notes in the phone now, so she won't find anything new.”

“Good job. I had no idea the convent was such a soap opera. You'll notice I'm not commenting on the sex scene you overheard.”

“Usually it's more covert than this. The soap opera-ness. I'm not commenting on what I overheard either. I'd prefer to retain this excellent lunch.”

“Sidney will be thrilled, you know. You'll be retelling these stories for a month. Okay. Summary?”

Giulia sat straighter. “Fabian's hiding something. Sidney's looking for an interpreter so I can communicate with Sister Arnulf. Something's stressing the Novices besides the usual Canonical stuff, and I'm running out of time.”

“Maybe I can help with one of those.” He flipped several sheets in the notebook until he came to a page with multiple bullet points. “The phone call to Sister Bridget's parents would've broken me in the days of long-distance charges. They each got on an extension. The father cursed the Community, then apologized, then cursed Sister Fabian and apologized. The mother was still weepy, but she had some choice words for the way the merger was handled to coincide with this cloistered year they're in.”