Nun Too Soon (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 1) (12 page)

Nineteen

Zane didn’t flinch when Giulia handed him her phone again at one-forty.

“You’re taking it like a trouper. This is the last one. I’ll take care of the paperwork for the temp while you transcribe.”

“Crap. I forgot. Thanks. Sorry.”

“I gave you a higher-priority task. You did right. Anything happen while I was having venom poured into my ears?”

“Not a thing.”

“Zane,” Sidney said.

Zane blushed, for him, which meant his ghost-pale skin didn’t quite match the stack of paper in the printer. “We weren’t going to tell you about Sidney’s water breaking because she said you’d panic.”

“What?” Giulia leaped across the room to Sidney’s desk. “Why are you still here? Did you call Olivier? Do you need me to drive you to—”

She stopped. Sidney lost her straight face as she pounded her desk with laughter. Behind and to Giulia’s left, Zane hiccupped.

Giulia planted her hands on her hips. “Sidney, you evil woman. How dare you take advantage of...” She leaned against the desk and laughed. “All right. That was one of the best pranks ever.”

“It was better than that,” Sidney said. “Zane thought it up.”

“Zane did?” Giulia waited a beat, then went to the bottom drawer of the file cabinet next to Sidney’s desk. She took out the first aid kit, ran to Zane’s desk, and slapped one of those temperature strips onto his forehead. Zane sat frozen in place, except for the occasional stifled-laughter hiccup. Ten seconds later, Giulia forced her forehead into worry lines.

“I don’t understand,” she said with concern. “This thing says you’re not running a fever. But you have to be sick, doesn’t he, Sidney?”

Behind her, Sidney choked and gasped. “S-stop it—or I’ll really go into labor.”

Slowly, Zane began to smile. “You liked the joke, Ms. Driscoll? You’re not mad?”

Sidney groaned.

Giulia smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead. “And he ruins it. Just when he showed promise.”

“I’m trying,” Sidney said, switching to deep breathing exercises. “For someone so smart, he’s sure slow to pick this up.”

“He’s young. There’s still hope. Take the thermometer off, please, Zane.”

The door opened and the temp walked in, minus brown wig and concealing makeup.

Giulia and Sidney, and a moment later Zane, all started laughing again.

Jane Pierce pushed jet-black bangs off her left eye and clapped her other hand over the buzzed back of her head, without obscuring the stylized sun and moon tattoo on the right side of her neck.

“Shush, everyone. Jane, welcome! Come on in. I don’t have your papers ready because these two just pranked me like pros.”

Jane took half a step backward. “You’re not...I mean, you all started laughing when I opened the door, and I thought...”

“No, no! Of course not.”

Sidney said, “You came in right after Zane made his first joke ever. And there you stood as we all looked like loons and you were probably thinking you still had a chance to run away from the crazy people.”

Giulia said, “That is a beautiful tattoo. Zane, since you lost me my five extra minutes, could you print out everything for me?”

“Sure.” He opened a file folder and hit the print button several times. He reached up with his free hand to scratch his forehead and felt the temperature strip. With a wry smile he peeled it off and dropped it in his trash can.

Sidney and Giulia snickered.

Giulia took the stack of papers out of the printer.

“Come on, Jane. I’ll prove to you we’re also professional.”

Closed into Giulia’s office, Jane lost a little of her wariness. “My tattoo artist took me out to dinner to celebrate me being gainfully employed for the next two months. I told him about this place. He said I lucked out.”

Giulia didn’t look up from filling in her parts of the forms. “Has he heard of us?”

“His aunt does piercings over at Glitz, the big multi-tasking makeup and hair and ink and piercing place over on Larch. She remembered you from a couple years back when you came in to hold someone’s hand for a navel piercing.” A pause. “She said you used to be a nun. Was she kidding?”

Giulia held up one finger while she filled in the last fields. A moment later she clicked the pen closed and slid it and the papers across her desk.

“No, she wasn’t kidding. I remember that trip. I had to get my hair straightened for an undercover job. I told a bunch of convent stories while the chemicals cooked.” She took in Jane’s expression. “Is there a problem?”

Jane gripped the pen.

“Well, I’m an atheist. I didn’t know this was a religious detective agency.”

Giulia laughed. “It’s not. I’m interested in one thing: Can you do the job? Everything else is your business.”

“Of course I can do the job. I just thought, well...my experience with religious types hasn’t always been positive.” She stacked the forms and wrote rapidly on the top one.

“You and Zane should get along,” Giulia said. “His whole family’s pagan and he’s Buddhist. Thanksgiving at his mother’s house is an interesting experience.”

“Oh, cripes, don’t talk about holidays.” Jane shuffled that form to the bottom and started on the next one. “My sisters foist their spawn on me to ‘encourage me to be a proper woman.’ I love my nieces and nephews, but babysitting them isn’t going to make my womb sabotage my brain so I’ll go on a date with the dweebs they try to set me up with.”

Giulia coughed.

“Go ahead and laugh,” Jane said. “It’s like a bad TV reality show. This past Christmas I kept checking the tree for a hidden camera feed.” She unbuckled her black leather knapsack purse and took out her checkbook. “Thanks for having direct deposit. Sometimes my neighborhood isn’t the safest on paydays.” She voided a blank check and paper-clipped it to that form.

As she filled out the last paper, she said, “The rainforest hates US employment rules.”

“Even if we could do all of this electronically, I’d still keep a paper backup,” Giulia said. “There are too many ways data can be tampered with.”

“Spoken like a cautious woman.” Jane’s pen stopped. She swallowed. Her shoulders hunched as she looked across at Giulia. “I apologize...That was inappropriate coming from the employee to the employer.”

The employer studied the employee.

Giulia nodded once. “Getting used to the dynamics of an office again? Let’s call this an adjustment period. Is everything complete?”

Jane exhaled. “Um, yeah. Yes. I’m all set.” She handed everything back to Giulia.

“Great. Oh, look. It’s only quarter to three. It ought to be midnight. Come out and meet everyone.” Giulia put her hand on the doorknob. “‘Everyone’ being a relative term.”

She opened the door on the sound of water running in the bathroom sink.

“Sidney, you are killing our water bill budget.” Giulia raised her voice to carry through the closed door.

The door opened. “Mini-Sidney has no sympathy for water bills or what she’s doing to my bladder.” She sat in her desk chair with a sigh. “Or my feet.”

Giulia tried to cover her amusement with sympathy. “Two more weeks. In the meantime, this is Jane Pierce. She will be you for the duration. Jane, this is Sidney Martin and mini-Sidney.”

Sidney held up her hand. “Nice to meet you. Do you like alpacas?”

Jane’s mouth opened then clicked shut. “Um...I guess.”

“Great. We have a farm. I’ll bring you some fertilizer. Alpaca poop is the best. It’s small, it’s easy to handle, and it hardly stinks at all. Seriously.”

Jane was starting to appear shell-shocked. Giulia swooped in. “It really is. I use it on my indoor tomato plants. Sidney, give the poor woman a chance to get her feet under her.” She turned them toward the door. “This is Zane Hall, the king of admins. Zane, Jane Pierce, Sidney’s replacement while she’s on maternity leave.”

They shook hands. “Pleased to meet you,” Zane said. “Is that tattoo for the art or the belief?”

Jane became a deer in the headlights.

“Stop interrogating the new girl,” Giulia said. “We have no window to keep searching for temps. If Jane runs away I’ll be forced to hire that one who told me how completely wrong I’m running my own business.”

Zane put his hands together and bowed. “Sorry. Sometimes my mouth gets away from me.”

“No problem,” Jane said. “I chose it because it symbolizes rising from the night into the new day.”

“Nice. Sorry you got my drive-by. A former girlfriend got Japanese characters down both arms that she claimed were the kanji for ‘The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.’ I don’t know what ticked her off more: When I told her she’d misquoted it or when I told her the kanji actually were the names of characters in a manga series. She walked out without paying her half of the dinner check. I bet that tattoo shop got a visit from her early the next morning.”

“You read manga in Japanese?” Jane said. “I have to wait for the translations.
Evangelion
or
One Piece
?”

“Both.
Death Note
or
Fruits Basket
?”

“Do I look like a
shōjo
person?”

Sidney said to Giulia, “What am I missing?”

“They’re graphic novels. My nephews and nieces devour them, which is the only reason I understand this conversation.” Giulia waved a hand between the manga discussion. “Zane, how’s the transcribing?”

“Done. I emailed everything to you. Here’s your phone.”

“Excellent. Can you print them out for me by end of day?”

He handed her five paper-clipped groups of printouts. “Anticipated and achieved. Sidney reminded me that you like to spread hard copies all over the floor like a jigsaw puzzle.”

“A clue collage, actually. Someday I might get the phrase trademarked.” She turned to Jane. “We’ll see you at nine o’clock Monday. Remember: Business casual, but jeans are okay too. Nothing raggy is the key.”

The phone rang. Zane got to “Good afternoon, Dris—” before the voice on the other end shouted him down. He yanked the receiver away from his ear. Jane slipped out the door. The voice got louder.

Giulia winced. “That’s Roger Fitch. I’d better take it in my office. Don’t hang up ’til I pick up. I don’t think he’ll hear you if you try to put him on hold.”

Giulia closed herself in, inhaled and exhaled slowly, and picked up the receiver. Fitch’s voice assaulted her ear.

“Mr. Fitch. Mr. Fitch. I can’t understand you.” When that didn’t make a dent in his tirade, she yelled, “Shut up!”

The voice stopped.

“This is Giulia Falcone-Driscoll, Mr. Fitch. What is the matter?”

Twenty

Roger Fitch started shouting again. “My car! They trashed my car. I just paid it off last year!” He spewed curses into the phone.

Giulia swore she could hear spittle hitting the mouthpiece at the other end.

“Mr. Fitch. Mr. Fitch.” She paused. Again without raising her voice, “Mr. Fitch.”

Fifteen long seconds later he ran out of steam and her steady voice repeating his name squeezed into a moment of silence.

She took the advantage. “What’s happened to your car? Please don’t shout at me again or I’ll hang up the phone.”

“What do you mean, you’ll hang up on me? I’m paying you. Who do you—”

She hung up. Then she buzzed Zane. “He’s going to call back in a second. I’ll get it.”

Half a minute later, the phone rang.

“Driscoll Investigations,” Giulia said.

“It’s Fitch. You really hung up on me.”

“Mr. Fitch, I asked you more than once to modulate your voice. I am a professional, as are you. I expect to be treated as such. In return, I will do the same. Is that clear?”

A pause. “Are you sure you’re not related to my domineering great-aunt? Okay. Sorry I lost it.”

“Thank you. Now please tell me what happened to your car.”

“I was out late last night. Didn’t get up ’til noon and had to keep the blinds closed for an hour, if you know what I mean. It’s sunny today.”

“Yes. And?”

“I went down to the parking lot around two to get some groceries. No car. Walked through the lot twice. Nothing. I was sure I remembered parking at the far end of the first row when I came home, next to old lady Asher’s pink VW Bug.” He made a gagging noise, but sobered up right away. “This skinny broad who lives below me opened her window. She had to talk loud so I could hear her over her brat squalling inside. Said she saw two guys jimmy my lock and drive away about half an hour earlier. She called the cops but then her kid woke up and she didn’t have time to come upstairs to tell me.”

Giulia was typing into an open Word doc. “Did the police come around while you were still in the parking lot?”

“Yeah, two uniforms showed up. The skinny broad came out with her kid—quiet by then, thank God—and told them what she’d seen. I gave them make and model and license plate. I was mad enough to punch right through the glass entrance door of the building.”

She named the document. “You said your car was vandalized?”

“Vandalized? That’s too good a word for it. An hour later the cops called to pick me up. They found my car six blocks away in the back lot of some boarded-up store or other. I could kill those punks! They smashed the windows and cut through the upholstery on the seats. They slashed the tires. They stole my gym bag from the trunk. They keyed the top and sides and spray-painted insults over that. They pissed into the glove compartment!”

Giulia made a gagging face at her screen. “You said they painted insults on the car? What specifically?”

“I took photos along with the cops. Come to my place. You know where it is, right? I’ll show them to you.”

“I can’t come over to your apartment right now. If you think this is connected to the case, please give me the information so I can attach it to the rest of the evidence.”

“Fine.” His tone implied offense at her unwillingness to jump on command. Or perhaps it was nothing more than Male Indulging in a Pout. “I’ll put you on speaker so I can check my pics.” A moment of silence. “Still there?” His voice acquired a slight echo.

“Yes.”

“Just a sec...They wrote ‘Die, murderer’ on the hood, ‘Killer’ on the doors, and drew a needle with a skull and crossbones on it on the trunk.”

Giulia’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. “That was thorough.”

“You think? Since you’re too busy to come over here, when are you going to give me the report you owe me? You remember? The one on all the people you talked to who bad-mouthed me.”

If Giulia hadn’t spent ten years serving others in the convent, she would’ve told her client what she thought of his attitude. In precise, grammatical Shakespearean English. Shakespeare could insult with the best.

“Shall we say between ten and eleven tomorrow morning?”

“I might be at the car rental place then. I’ll call you. You going to be around all day?”

Giulia fixed her gaze on the framed painting on the wall across from her. The twelve-by-twenty-four inch watercolor of a garden in summer—exactly the bright, sunny kind of art she preferred—eased her tension enough to answer Fitch with civility.

“I have errands to run as well. If I don’t answer when you call, please leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

“Fine. No problem. I’m only one more day closer to a jury tying a noose around my neck, figuratively speaking.”

“I’m aware of the timeline, Mr. Fitch. I’ll expect your call tomorrow.”

Giulia rested her head on the desk for a full minute after she hung up. Then she pushed herself up and went into the main office space.

“Zane, is there any chance you’d be available for about two hours of overtime tomorrow?”

Her admin stared at the ceiling, one eye half-closed.

Good Heavens, Giulia thought. He looked like Bogie in Casablanca when he did that. She kept her gaze away from Sidney, just in case they were thinking the same thing.

“I’m hosting a Final Fantasy night in my game room at seven-thirty. Beer’s my contribution. I can get it tonight after work.” He transferred his Bogie-look to Giulia. “Sure. Any time tomorrow up ’til seven.”

“Your game room?” Giulia said.

“Don’t get him started,” Sidney’s voice vibrated with overdone caution.

“You should see it, Ms. Driscoll.” With that one sentence, Zane morphed from noir leading man to cyber-warrior. “I had the room rewired to my personal specs when I bought the house. It’s got power and tables for four screens, recliners and desk chairs depending on whether you want back support or butt cushioning, surround speakers, a four-cubic-foot fridge, and a half-bath so nobody has to run all the way downstairs during important battles.”

Giulia said, “Sounds...well-thought-out. I didn’t realize you owned your own house.”

“All thanks to PayWright. They tried to suck out my soul, but I kicked butt on commissioned sales. The house was my reward for surviving their evil maw. It’s an older Cape Cod with small rooms and closets and everything, but my cats and I christened it
Veni
,
Vendidit
,
Vici
.”

“I came, I...sold? I conquered?” Giulia laughed. “I love it. Tell me you have that on a plaque above the front door.”

“Well, yeah.” For once he didn’t look embarrassed. “What’s happening tomorrow that you need me for?”

“Our client wants a report on all the interviews I’ve been doing. I want to scope out his apartment and get a feel for how the crime might have been committed.” She dropped into Zane’s client chair. “I keep having to remind myself that just because he’s an arrogant, rude, entitled jerk doesn’t mean he’s a murderer. Anyway. I’m not foolhardy enough to walk into a possible murderer’s apartment by myself. I’d like you to be silent muscle and my backup eyes and ears.”

“Wait a minute,” Sidney said. “Fitch is my height and weight—at least what I weigh now—and you had me begging for mercy in ten seconds at self-defense training.”

“You got Sidney to yield?” Zane said. “Nice.”

“I’ll make the alpacas spit on you,” Sidney said.

“Uncle.” He raised both hands in surrender.

“Fitch has the impression I’m still the passive wallflower he met four years ago,” Giulia said. “I want to use that to my advantage.” She checked her phone. “I need to rewire my brain. I’m going to the gym to turn myself into quivering Jell-O in the circuit training room.”

She returned to her desk, shut down her computer, gathered all the loose papers into the delivery box the lawyer had given her, and turned off her light.

“I know I’m neglecting the retainer agreement you created,” she said to Zane as she put on her coat, “but we’re on the clock with the Fitch case. I’ll call you tomorrow as soon as His Entitledness calls me. He claims he might be busy renting a car in the morning—that’s what the screaming phone call was about. I think he’s power-tripping on me and fully intends to have me come to his place before noon.” She opened the front door. “If the Pope himself calls within the next half-hour to hire us, you guys have permission to contact me, but otherwise I’m in gym rat mode for the rest of the daylight hours.”