Back in the Habit (23 page)

Sister Fabian wound green floral tape around and around Giulia's upper body from elbows to biceps. It snapped a few times, but Father Ray kept his hands on Giulia's shoulders while Fabian layered more tape over the breaks. Giulia's arms refused to obey her with anything like normal speed. Her legs rebelled as well, twitching and jerking rather than kicking Fabian's legs when she came around to the front of the chair.

Giulia refused to look in Father Ray's warm brown eyes; her situation brought up images of a mouse before a cobra.
Not good.
Fabian's not even rushing. How out of it do I look? What did she force me to inhale? I swallowed a little too, I think.
She jerked her head left and right.
You're talking
…
thinking
…
drivel. Dribble
…
something's dribbling down my neck.

She wiggled her ears; nothing. Her eyelids, her nose; the same. At last she narrowed the sensation down to the cord in her mouth.
Now that she had something to focus on, she identified what was causing the tickles: saliva had soaked the cord and was dripping from the corners of her mouth down into her collar.

As the spit trails thinned in the vestry's chill air, goosebumps erupted all over her upper body.
Her brain shook off the cotton-candy shroud. She struggled for real against the floral tape. It gave, but not much.

Her de-fogged ears heard pews creaking from out in the chapel. If they were starting to come in for Mass, it had to be close to ten o'clock. She couldn't have been loopy in the wardrobe for more than a few minutes.

Father Ray's hands banged on the top rail of Giulia's chair and she jumped, as much as her green mummy wrapping let her.

“Sister Regina Coelis. I hope you enjoyed your brief mental journey.” His “I'm everyone's friend” smile turned darker with each word.

“You disgusting predator.” That's what she tried to say, but around the cord in her mouth it sounded more like “Goo guh-guh'n chl-eh-eh.”

Off to Giulia's left, the pews continued to creak and kneelers banged down onto the floor.

Father Ray's smile became genial again. “My cincture seems to be interfering with your speech. I beg your pardon.” He reached behind her and unknotted the cord.

She shoved at it with her tongue. He stepped back, still smiling, and watched her fight until the thick, woven gold cord plopped onto her lap, discolored in the center from her saliva. Her dry mouth tasted like thread and mint and bitter medicine.

“I said you're a disgusting predator.” Her tongue felt too thick.

Sister Fabian came into Giulia's line of vision. “It's half-full out there.”

Father Ray kept his eyes on Giulia. “Then we'll be quiet. There's plenty of time.” He chucked her chin, just like he'd done to Vivian that first day. “It's unfortunate that my dear Fabian chose for her investigation the one Sister she couldn't browbeat into submission.”

“Your dear Fabian is a criminal and you're her accomplice.” Her head fuzzed for a moment and she shook it clear. “What did you drug me with?”

“I'm ‘her' accomplice?” Father Ray gave a subdued laugh. “I feel quite disrespected.”

“Stop wasting time, Raymond.” Fabian shouldered him aside. “I drugged you, you interfering bitch. You knew what I expected of you. All you needed to do was agree with my official report and you would've been out of my hair for good.”

“If you remembered anything about me, you should've known I wouldn't roll over for you.” She started to cough.

Fabian tilted Giulia's head back and poured water in her mouth. Giulia spluttered and sneezed.

“Don't think calling for help will solve your problem.” Father Ray dangled a purificator in Giulia's face. “I know how to silence uncooperative Sisters.”

Giulia stared at the pure white linen meant to wipe the chalice after Communion. “You make me sick. How do you say Mass with a clean conscience?”

“You should have paid more attention to Church history, Sister. I am following the excellent path laid out by certain Holy Fathers.”

Giulia stopped her surreptitious bicep-flexing and deep breathing, intended to stretch the floral-tape wrappings. “What path?” She knew copious amounts of Church history. No document about the right era opened amidst the trails of cotton candy still gumming up her brain.

“Raymond, finish this.” Fabian glanced through the doorway. “Three-quarters full.”

Father Ray sneered at Sister Fabian. “Relax. You'll live longer. I have a little pill that would do wonders for you.”

Fabian left the doorway and joined Father Ray in front of Giulia. “Take your own counsel. If you had kept to one vice we wouldn't be in this situation.”

He shook his head. “Fabian, Fabian. Why don't you just admit you want to claw the eyes out of every succulent young Novice you bring to me?”

Giulia pushed her elbows out. The tape stretched a little more.

“If we didn't need the money—”

“Exactly.” Father Ray hooked his right arm around Fabian's neck and dragged her into a hard kiss.

Giulia made a disgusted noise to get their attention. “Is he your Confessor? Has he given you permanent dispensation from your vow of chastity?”

Fabian pushed Raymond away. “Not here. What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking that you've lost focus.” He gestured to Giulia, exaggerated forbearance on his face. “She said she was willing to do whatever it took to preserve the Community.”

“I still am. I trapped her for you, didn't I?”

“True.” This time when he faced Giulia, his face was filled with mad-scientist-like glee. “Your detective boss and his Keystone Kops missed me this morning. You have one of the Sisters to thank for that.”

“Stop playing with her.” Fabian straightened her already perfect feast-day corsage. “Sister Mary Stephen came to me before Office this morning.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Giulia slumped, expanding her chest and pushing out her arms at the same time. “Did she tell you she's raided my room twice? That she played with my underwear?”

In the chapel, Sister Gretchen's violin played the high, sweet opening to “O Sanctissima.”

Father Ray laughed. “Did she really? I'm intrigued. What are you wearing today?” He picked up her skirt.

Sister Fabian slapped away his hand. “Control yourself.” She said to Giulia, “Sister Mary Stephen brought me an extensive list of grievances against you. I had no trouble pretending to take her seriously. Her pride has always made her easy to manipulate.”

“If Mary Stephen had known anything, she would've thrown it in my face.”

“Her festering jealousy of you caused her to make hurried copies of everything in your room, including the pages in your daily organizer.”

Father Ray's smile widened. Giulia wondered how she ever thought he was charming.

The tape at Giulia's left elbow gave way. To cover the sound, she said, “I'm not surprised. At either of you.”

“Give the snitch to me,” Father Ray said. “I'll enjoy breaking her, even if she's too much like you to enjoy any other part of it.”

Sister Fabian stood rock-still for a long moment. Giulia heard more kneelers hit the floor as the choir took a breath between measures. In that beat of silence, Giulia's phone chose to vibrate, buzzing against the wooden chair like a swarm of hornets.

Father Ray dug into her pocket. “You have a text message, Sister. Let me read it for you.” He pressed buttons and gave the phone a dirty look. “I dislike text-speak. It makes me feel my age. ‘Missed priest at house. May be coming to your place. Be careful.' ” He aimed the phone at the wall, but Fabian stopped him.

“No noise,” she whispered.

Giulia reached for her phone without thinking of the mummy wrappings. She popped several strands, but not enough to escape the chair.

Father Ray held the phone out of her reach. “You miserable, sneaking, disobedient bitch. You've destroyed my business. Six years' work, gone in two weeks.” He turned the smile on Fabian. “Although technically, I could divide the blame equally between both of you.”

“Me?” Fabian glanced at the doorway and lowered her voice. “If you'd kept your hands off the Novices we wouldn't be in this situation.”

“I beg to differ. We had an excellent business plan until you pushed for more frequent deliveries.”

“We had to have money. You promised you'd keep them compliant.”

Giulia ripped more of the damaged wrappings free while Fabian and Ray weren't looking at her. Every cell in her brain wished for a hidden recording device.

“No, you became greedy. You and your big celebration plans. I knew that Bridget was unstable from the move and that the drugs heightened it.” He clamped his hand on Giulia's almost-free arm. “Don't assume I'm distracted, Sister.”

The organ began Pachelbel's “Canon.”

Father Ray gave Fabian a disgusted look. “I despise that song.”

“It's not your Motherhouse. And she was fine even after we upped the concentration.”

Giulia said, “I knew it. Didn't you consider the side effects? What you did sent her into a suicidal tailspin.”

Ray glanced at her, a scrap of admiration on his face, before he said to Fabian, “No, you desiccated nag, she was not fine. Even your intended puppet here figured that out. You would've seen it if you hadn't been so obsessed with your Motherhouse. Did you enjoy watching her vomit bleach and blood and stomach lining there on the laundry room floor? Did you even consider calling 9-1-1?”

“What?” Giulia's voice pierced the muted, peaceful song. Fabian shoved her hand over Giulia's mouth.

“Of course not. She was collateral damage. Ow—” She jerked away her hand, red teeth-shaped dents in two fingers.

“And now it's all ruined.” Father Ray gave her a deliberate once-over. “I needed those Novices as an antidote to you. Remembering how good it is to fuck their sweet young bodies is what sustains me when you demand to be serviced.” He looked down at Giulia. “You didn't know the Novices were my personal harem?” He jerked his head toward Fabian. “She convinced them to give themselves to me, you know. Anything it took to keep the Community in the black.” He laughed. “I wish I had a camera right now. Your face is comical. Oh, wait—I do.” He flipped open Giulia's phone. “I'll keep this to remember you by, before I deliver you to my dealers. I promised them compensation for their interrupted income.”

Sister Fabian leapt at him, nails raking his face. Father Ray crashed onto the floor, a foot shy of the sanctuary doorway.

“You bastard! I ruined myself for you—you said I was beautiful—you said—”

Father Ray heaved her off and punched her. Fabian gasped and kneed his stomach. Giulia ripped away layers of tape with her free hand as the chair fell on its side from her struggles.

Father Ray gripped Fabian's throat. “You frigid, greedy bitch! I could've lived for years on my Contin money and enjoyed a new crop of Novices every year on top of it.”

Giulia threw off the chair. It crashed into Father Ray and he thumped onto the floor, his rear end over the threshold.

The organ and violin notes clashed and stopped.

“You lying pig!” Sister Fabian grabbed his ears and banged the back of his head against the door frame.

He clamped his hands over her wrists and yanked. “You dried-up whore!”

Giulia pried Sister Fabian's fingernails out of Father Ray's scalp. “Have some respect for the house of God!”

The door to the hallway slammed open. Two men in suits ran in. Father Ray's hand dived into his cassock and came out with a weenie black pistol. For a surreal instant, Giulia thought it was a cigarette lighter. The suits both pulled guns that looked one hundred percent real.

BOOM.

Thirty

Giulia touched her cheek
and looked at the blood on her hand. Her ears rang. Dust and smoke filled the vestry. She blinked, took a breath, and coughed.

Three men ran around her. She heard their voices through the noise in her head, distorted at first, but slowly clearing up.

“Fire and EMTs on their way.”

“I need to stop this bleeding. Tony, find a towel.”

“Small fire on the other side of this wall. We've got to evacuate.”

Giulia raised herself on one elbow in time to see Sister Theresa run in from the supply hall with a fire extinguisher. The pin at its top dropped to the sanctuary rug as she braced herself against the altar and sprayed powdery chemicals at the wainscoting.

“Good job, Sister.” One of the suits followed her into the sanctuary. “That's got it. I'd use another one to make sure.”

“Here comes the one from the vestibule and we're bringing two more from the kitchen.”

Another pop and hiss.

Giulia could hear those noises now. She tried to sit up straighter.

“To your left … there you go. The fire department will be here any minute to check the walls.”

Giulia looked around the crowded vestry. Father Ray lay face down on the floor, unconscious. His shredded cassock exposed several gashes from the small of his back to his knees.

“I could've lived without seeing your naked butt,” she muttered.

Sister Fabian also sprawled unconscious on the floor with her head in Sister Beatrice's lap. Blood soaked Fabian's veil as Sister Beatrice shrieked for a bandage. One of the suits handed her the purificator Father Ray had been holding, and she wadded it onto Sister Fabian's injury.

A multitude of female voices reached through the minor chaos in the vestry. They babbled and exclaimed and overlapped each other until the suit checking Father Ray's butt injuries had to yell into his cell phone. One of the other suits stood in the ruined doorway making calming gestures.

Frank appeared out of the chaos and knelt in front of her. “Giulia, are you all right?”

“I think so.” Her voice echoed in her head a trifle. “Where did you come from? Who got shot?”

“Nobody. Tony says it was a pipe bomb.”

A deep male voice cut through the shrieks and chattering. “Ladies—Sisters—please don't touch anything. Who's in charge?”

“Sister Fabian.” Several voices.

“Could someone bring her here, please?”

More voices overlapped each other.

“She's on the floor in the vestry.” “What happened to her?” “What exploded?” “Is the fire all out?”

The suit looked over his shoulder at Frank. “Can your partner control this?”

“Give her a minute.” Frank stared into Giulia's eyes. “You're not dilated. Can you stand up? The crowd out there's headed for hysterics.”

Sister Gretchen's voice rose above the commotion. “Sisters, please give the authorities room to work. Sister Florence, Sister Catherine, could you usher them back to the pews? Sisters Dorothea and Helen, our elderly Sisters need a little help down the steps. Thank you so much.” She raised her voice to a near-shout. “Sisters, the firefighters are in the hallway. Please clear the aisle for them.”

The suit in the shredded doorway turned back to Frank. “She's good. Reminds me of my high school principal.”

Two firemen invaded the vestry from the chapel side, Sisters Gretchen and Bart following. Two more came into the vestry through the door from the hallway, a fire hose unrolling behind them.

Frank peeled ragged floral tape from Giulia's sleeves. “What's with this stuff?”

She ripped away the pieces clinging to her crucifix. “Frank, Fabian forced the Novices to have sex with him.” She made a movement toward Ray's unconscious body. “If he was awake I'd make sure he'd need surgery just to be able to pee again.”

Frank snorted.

“He taunted Fabian with her looks and she went postal. She was sleeping with him, too.”

Frank whistled. “This'll be an interesting court case.”

“That's your reaction?”

“Sorry.” He gave her a once-over. “You've got a bump on your head, too.”

A pair of EMTs squeezed into the vestry. One knelt next to Ray, the other by the Beatrice-Fabian Pietà.

Giulia touched her hairline below her skewed veil. “Must've been from when the chair fell over.” She plucked a remnant of tape. “Fabian forced me to inhale some of their drug and they taped me to the chair. Ray said we'd ruined his income and he was going to let his dealers take it out on me. I got out of it when they were catfighting.” Her veil fell across one eye. “I should've let them beat the crap out of each other.”

Frank grabbed both sides of her face and kissed her hard.

Two horrified gasps sounded over their heads.

When Frank broke the kiss, Giulia said, “What was that for?”

“For brilliant undercover work. And maybe I wanted to see what it was like to kiss a nun.”

Giulia tried to scowl, but couldn't hold it. They both laughed.

One of the suits squatted next to them. “Excuse me, Ms.—Falcone, right? Can we get your help out here? This little old nun's translator says she insists on talking to you.”

“Sister Arnulf. Frank, would you give me a hand up?”

A brief wave of dizziness hit Giulia. She leaned on him for a moment. “Okay now.”

To their left, Bart and Gretchen stared at Giulia. Bart's face was a picture of horror, but Gretchen looked like she wanted to snatch Giulia's ring and crucifix and boot her out the door.

Giulia smiled. “Let me introduce myself. I'm Giulia Falcone, working undercover here to investigate Bridget's death. I haven't been Sister Regina Coelis for a year and a half.”

The air around them thawed. Bart's face morphed from horror to surprise. Gretchen lost her Vengeance Is Mine attitude, but one of the suits took her aside before she could reply.

Giulia and Frank passed through the dripping, frayed doorway into the sanctuary. One firefighter was checking the wall, but the others were packing up. The air smelled of smoke and chemicals and burned insecticide.

Their feet squelched across the rug and ground in the remnants of the flower arrangements. Most of the Sisters still crowded the pews, talking and rubbernecking at the train wreck that had replaced the Feast Day Mass. The suits—detectives Frank came with—went from pew to pew, writing in what Giulia hoped was rapid shorthand. No fewer than three Sisters spoke to them at any one time.

Sister Arnulf stood by the Communion rail, back straight, mouth compressed, a mixture of triumph and frustration in her eyes. Her friends from Sweden stood next to her, looking like her personal guard. Sister Theresa ran to Giulia, Sister Winifred hovering by the other three.

“Sister Regina, I don't know what to tell you. I never expected anything like this. Never. If we had only looked into their luggage last night, but how could we have imagined anything like this? What is the Vatican committee going to say about Sisters in jail?”

Giulia stopped her. “What? What are you talking about?”

Sister Arnulf stepped forward. “Jag stoppade honom för Bridgets skull.”

Sister Winifred translated. “She did it for Bridget. Those poor girls were too afraid to say anything, but Bridget told her what that priest did to them. Bridget thought it was safe because no one else understood Sister Arnulf.”

Sister Arnulf poked Giulia's arm and resumed speaking.

Sister Winifred translated: “When I realized you came here to find the truth, I showed you. I drew a picture of his mole for you. That should have pointed you in the right direction.”

“Why would a mole have done that?” Giulia said.

Sister Winifred translated question and answer.

“Don't they teach young girls anything? His mole location means ‘treachery.' How much more of a hint could I give you? You tried to learn my language, but there was no time. Besides, Sister Fabian attached that one to spy on me.” She pointed to Sister Theresa. “I knew I had to act before little Bartholomew gave up.”

Sister Theresa's mouth fell open. “What does she mean?”

Giulia said, “Sister Fabian and Father Ray addicted the Novices to drugs and used them as their personal delivery service. She also forced them to have sex with Ray to keep them controlled.”

Horrified exclamations from the English-speaking Sisters, including four who were hovering near the Communion rail.

“I'm sorry to spring it on you like that, but since Sister Arnulf knew about the situation, I can see why she'd be suspicious of anyone appointed by Fabian.” Giulia said to Sister Arnulf, “I'm sorry I didn't understand you.”

Sister Arnulf shrugged when Sister Winifred translated this. “I knew what I had to do. That man—” Arnulf said it with a spitting motion— “was as bad as the Nazi who raped and killed my mother. He even looks like him. As we knew then, so we knew now it was time when God uses His people to mete out His justice. So I emailed Peregrin and Georgia. They contacted one of our American friends from the Resistance. She procured the supplies.” Sister Arnulf smiled. “When you picked up that hockey bag, I thought Peregrin would have a heart attack.”

“Hockey bag? Right—the one in the trunk of the car last night.” Giulia looked at the three visitors. “What did you do?”

Sister Winifred said, “They made a pipe bomb.”

The firefighters carried the used extinguishers out through the opening in the Communion rail.

Giulia stared at the three innocuous elderly women, shaking her head. “We underestimated you.”

Sister Arnulf said one word and the others repeated it, like a secret handshake.

“I had no idea,” Winifred said. “I thought the hockey bag had souvenirs in it. Apparently they haven't forgotten what they learned in the war. They made the bomb in Peregrin's room last night. This morning, when the ‘Canon' began and we heard loud voices from the vestry, she left her seat and walked up to the Communion rail. When Father Ray's behind crossed the threshold, she pulled the pipe from the folds of her skirt, lit the fuse, and threw it.” Sister Winifred shook her head. “She blocked it from everyone's view until the last minute. From a tactical standpoint, it was perfect.”

One of the detectives trotted down the steps to them.

“They've got the priest stabilized and are taking him to the hospital. The nun doesn't need it.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Frank said.

Sister Winifred translated for Sister Arnulf and refused to reveal to the group the first part of her reply. Sister Arnulf kept talking.

“She's angry because her arm isn't what it used to be. When she was sixteen, the bomb would've landed square in the middle of Father Ray's back.”

“
Dia naofa.
”

Giulia elbowed Frank.

“You don't even know what I said.” He gestured toward the Swedish line of defense. “Tony, this is Sister Arnulf. She's responsible for the pipe bomb.”

Tony stared at Frank, then at Sister Arnulf, whose posture radiated the opposite of remorse. “Driscoll, you're not telling me I have to arrest a nun old enough to be my grandmother.”

“I'm afraid I am. Correct, Sisters?”

Sister Winifred opened her mouth, but Sister Arnulf spoke first.

Winifred sighed. “She says she can tell you're a policeman, and she is quite ready to go to prison for stopping that … I won't translate the rest.”

“It's bad enough we're arresting a nun and a priest in there. How the hell am I going to explain this in Confession on Saturday?”

Giulia thought at Winifred:
Think of something!
Every idea I'm coming up with to prevent that sweet old nun being taken to jail is either lame or ridiculous.

Winifred stepped between Arnulf and Tony. “Gentlemen, I understand that you have a duty to perform. However, Sister Arnulf is a citizen of Sweden and also under the protection of the Vatican.” Her eyes never wavered from Tony's face. “She also has several health problems in addition to her advanced age.”

Tony returned her steady gaze. “So she isn't a flight risk.”

Winifred gave him a wide-eyed look. “If you're reaching that conclusion as a representative of the law, it's not my place to argue with you.”

“Right, Sister. Let me see what I can do.” He hit the
Call
button on his cell phone. “Ann? It's Tony. Give me the captain.”

He walked away, still inside the Communion rail, staring at the statue of Saint Joseph while he talked.

Frank touched Giulia's shoulder. “You want to keep her out of jail, too, don't you?”

“Absolutely.”

“You're wrong. I don't care how sweet you think she is. She tried to murder that priest.”

Giulia turned on him. “She blew up arms depots during World War Two. Criminals died because of that. He's a criminal. How is this different?”

“Simple. It's against the law. Besides, innocent till proven guilty, remember?”

“He admitted it to my face. If I'd known Sister Arnulf's plans, I might not have stopped her.”

“Will you listen to yourself? You once said you were all about Franciscan ideals: peace and forgiveness and all that. What happened in three days to make you toss it in the garbage?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. A cold breeze hit her face; to her left came the sound of a stretcher bumping over the vestry threshold and out the garden door.

“Well?” Frank said, looking in the same direction.

“If I'm honest with myself I think I wish her arm had been what it was in the war.” She sat on the top step. “What does that say about me?”

Sister Bart came out of the vestry and picked up the least-trampled carnations. “They're not symmetrical anymore.”