Nun Too Soon (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 1) (24 page)

Forty

Lunch hour traffic plus the anticipation of a hungover Roger Fitch put Giulia in a miserable temper. By the time she pulled into the apartment’s parking lot she briefly considered taking her Glock out of her locked glove compartment and placing it in her belt. The sight ought to give Fitch extra incentive to get dressed and out the door. After a moment of pleasant visualization she thought better of it and locked the Nunmobile as usual.

She buzzed his apartment a dozen times without result. Before she attempted to pick the lock, which might in turn trip a silent alarm, she remembered Geranium Asher. With a smile, she pressed the button for the old woman’s apartment.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Mrs. Driscoll.”

“Hello! You come right on up.”

The lock disengaged with another buzz and Giulia climbed the stairs to the second floor. Geranium was waiting in her doorway with a huge smile on her face.

“I never expected you to come back this soon. I made cookies again this morning. Chocolate-covered cherry. You come in and tell me what you think.”

“I wish I could. Unfortunately I’m here to fetch your next-door neighbor. He’s needed at his lawyer’s and probably sleeping off an epic drinking bout.”

Geranium wrinkled her nose. “You’ll have to drag him out of bed, most likely. I heard him late yesterday shouting into his phone and slamming doors. He always drinks when he gets mad.” Her eyes got big. “I saw you on that nasty TV show with those young women throwing food and ripping each other’s earrings out. This floor surely won’t miss him when they throw him into jail.” She tipped her head to one side. “That is, if you uncovered enough nastiness to send him to jail.”

“Officially, I won’t comment,” Giulia said with a smile. “Unofficially, you all should be sleeping a lot better soon.”

Geranium nodded. “I didn’t hear you say a thing. Well, you have a job to do. For my part, I think it’s time to rearrange a chair over by a certain wall. I’m trying out that
feng shui
I’ve heard so much about.” She winked and closed her door.

Still smiling, Giulia rang Fitch’s doorbell. She hoped he’d do Geranium a favor and shout. Maybe even throw something. That would give her an entertaining morning. A minute later, she rang again, this time leaning on it for a good thirty seconds. Still no sound from the other side. She pounded on it with the side of her fist.

“Roger Fitch! Wake up!” She pounded again. “Ro-ger Fitch!”

Her hand started to hurt, so she took off one red shoe and banged on the door with the heel.

“Roger Fitch! Wake up! Let me in! Roger Fitch!”

She leaned in closer to the door. Another groan and a thud.

She put her shoe back on and reached into one of the zippered compartments in her purse for a large paper clip. With a sharp twist she snapped it in half and crouched so the lock was at her eye level.

“From the convent to breaking and entering. Sister Bart would be thrilled to watch this.” Her hands worked as she muttered to herself. “Insert the hook end into the lock below the pins so the L shape points up. I should’ve practiced this more often. Push it down...do it right so it doesn’t pop out...turn the L away and stick the other half right up underneath the pins. There. Felt it. Hands, find some muscle memory.” She wiggled the top half and applied clockwise force to the bottom half. “I felt that. A little more until it...pops.”

The lock disengaged.

“That should’ve been harder. Either it’s a cheapo lock or I’m getting better at criminal activities.” Giulia dropped the paper clip halves back into her purse. “Rise and shine, Mr. Fitch. Your attorney awaits.”

She opened the door. The hall was way too dark for just past noon and the air stank of nachos and old pizza. She thought she remembered a light switch...there it was, beneath a framed photo of a microbrew tasting at Long Neck.

With a muted click, ceiling fixtures illuminated the hall. She walked into the open space between the kitchen and living room and called, “Mr. Fitch? It’s Giulia Falcone-Driscoll.”

She walked all the way into the kitchen. Nothing. She turned toward the living room and saw a sneakered foot next to the chrome and glass coffee table. A step further and she saw a denim-clad leg and two empty bottles of vodka. A third bottle rolled back and forth on the edge of the table, spilling clear liquid with every swing. Empty beer cans lay in an open pizza box.

Another step and she got a full view of her client. He lay passed out on the rug, vodka splashes on his arms and two empty pill bottles mixed in among the beer cans.

Giulia leapt the rest of the distance and snatched up one of the pill bottles.

“Hydrocodone, ten milligrams. Fitch, you idiot.”

Giulia dropped her purse, picked up Fitch’s arm with one hand, and pushed up his damp sleeve with the other. He still had a pulse.

She yanked open her purse and found her phone. Her fingers hit the password on the first try and she started to dial 9-1-1. Fitch grabbed the phone out of her hands before she could hit the last digit.

“Sorry, darlin’. That’s not part of the plan.”

Giulia stared at the Smith & Wesson in his right hand. Fitch’s eyes were clear and his voice was crisp and pleased. “You really are a useless bleeding heart.” He pocketed her phone and got to his feet. “Colby sent you, didn’t he? I figured he would when I didn’t answer his calls all morning. Knew his famous charm would get you to do what he asked.”

Giulia was flogging herself harder than Fitch was sneering. She should’ve been more careful. She knew he couldn’t be trusted.

Fitch kept the gun aimed at Giulia’s stomach.

She had never wanted to curse more than at this moment. If he shot her at that distance, it would disable her enough for him to get away. He was the type to use more than one bullet to make sure of the kill, too. Her scattered thoughts scrambled for a way out.

Then her brain rebooted. Fitch had called her “bleeding-heart” and “soft” more than once. He thought she was gullible—well, he was right about that. Why else was she standing here with a Smith & Wesson aimed at her gut? He thought she was still the timid church mouse who’d joined the community theater orchestra four years ago. He’d given her the perfect camouflage. He also had no idea that she could cry on cue.

“Move, Driscoll.” Fitch gestured with the gun.

“I—but—where do you want me to go?” She made her eyes big and round.

“You’re my driver, woman. It’s time for me to get out of Dodge.”

Giulia planted her feet but made sure her hands trembled. “I’m not letting you take my car.”

He laughed. “What would I want with that used toy car you drive? We’re taking my car, now that it’s fixed up. A nice, anonymous dark blue Buick.”

“Mr. Fitch, you don’t have to go anywhere. We believe our investigation proves that you didn’t kill Loriela Gil.”

She pulled up her mental map of the apartment. The balcony was too far from the living room. The window above the sink was too small to squeeze through. The front door was the only option.

“No shit, Sherlock. I’ve been telling everyone I didn’t kill Lori for a year. Come on. We’re heading out.” He prodded the small of her back with the gun.

She deliberately stumbled. He grabbed her arm and wrenched her upright.

She held her breath for a moment and tears grew in the corners of her eyes. She turned her face to give Fitch the full effect.

“You’re crying? Good God, how do you function in normal society?” The gun jabbed her ribs. “Let’s go, little girl. It’s time to drive daddy to freedom.”

At that moment she remembered Geranium was listening. How could I forget? Have to make noise.

“No! Please, Mr. Fitch, put down the gun!” Giulia snatched one of the empty vodka bottles and skidded around the coffee table.

“Get back here, bitch!”

“Help!” Giulia threw the bottle so it bounced off the coffee table.

Fitch made a grab for it but missed. The bottle hit the TV stand and shattered with a lovely loud smash. Giulia ran for the door but Fitch moved much faster than she expected. He caught her by the hair and yanked. The false tears in her eyes became real ones.

He jerked her head back so she looked up into his face. “None of that escape crap. We’re going out the back stairs now. You and me.” He dug the gun into her spine at every other word. “You will not. Say. One. Word. You don’t want to end up like Lori. You want to get back home to your big, strong cop husband.”

Giulia nodded, making sure she trembled enough for Fitch to notice.

He snickered. She was satisfied. He opened the door and they went through. Giulia tried to see Geranium’s door out of the corners of her eyes. It looked closed. She tried to send her thoughts to Geranium through the door: Please be listening. Please call the police.

He marched her to the stairs at the end of the hall, keeping close to her side.

Giulia pushed open the door to the back stairs and they walked down each tread together. The awkward descent took twice as long as Giulia did walking it alone and she hoped the delay would give the police more time to arrive. Fitch cracked open the door to the back parking lot. “Stick your curly head out and check for innocent bystanders.”

Giulia complied. “No one.”

“Good. We’re walking straight to my car, which is conveniently parked against those nice bushy pine trees.” He gave her a calculating look. “While we walk, let’s have a conversation. If any nosy old ladies are looking out their windows, they’ll see two people having a casual conversation. Who do you think killed Lori?”

Giulia pushed open the door and they walked into a smaller parking lot surrounded on three sides by other buildings and on the fourth by stunted pine trees. Four cars and two pickups were scattered among the twenty lined spaces.

Fitch aimed them at a dark blue Buick with its back against the trees.

“Well? Who’d you pin her murder on?”

“Leonard Tulley.” She glanced around the parking lot. The street wasn’t visible from there, leaving no way to signal anyone.

“Ding ding ding! The kids playing detective get one right.” He laughed. It was an ugly sound. “Twenty more steps. Don’t get stupid, or no happy reunion with coppy.”

“I understand, Mr. Fitch.” The one time she should’ve brought her gun in with her...

He whispered into her ear, “I bet you don’t know why he killed her.”

His breath steamed up her skin. She repressed a shudder and remembered to play dumb. “We didn’t get a handle on that. When Mr. Petit called to say the trial had been moved up, we spent the time writing up all we found so he could use it in his arguments to the jury.”

“And people say no one is willing to work hard for their paycheck these days.” He pulled a key ring from his pants pocket and pressed a button. The door locks released.

“You’re going to sit in the driver’s seat, and you’re not going to do anything stupid while I get into the passenger seat.”

Giulia climbed into the seat without replying. Fitch crossed in front of the car and opened the passenger door, keeping the gun visible to Giulia with every step.

“Buckle up, Driscoll. First rule of criminal activity: don’t draw unnecessary attention to yourself.” He waited so they buckled together. “Here’s the plan. We’re heading west on 376 ’til we get to the Ridge Road exit.”

“And then?”

“Nope. That’s all you need to know for now. Start the car.”

Giulia couldn’t come up with an escape route that didn’t involve Fitch shooting her at point-blank range. Yet. She started the car.

“Don’t speed,” Fitch said. “Don’t drive too slow. Keep to the exact speed limit. Let’s go.”

She put the car in gear and drove around the side of the apartment building to the street. Fitch kept the gun in her ribs, out of sight of anyone driving in the lane next to them. She merged into the street and got up to speed without gunning the engine.

“It’s hard to concentrate with a gun pointed at me.”

“Too bad. Keep your goal in mind: getting home alive. I always keep my goals right in front of me. That’s why I’m leaving town with a hundred thousand in the bank and another hundred in the trunk.”

Play dumb.
“Did you steal that money?” She stopped as the corner light turned yellow.

A long, braying laugh. “I didn’t get it panhandling on the streets.”

A minivan pulled up next to her, two small girls in the backseat beating each other with sock monkey dolls. Giulia kept her eyes on the light. The mother driving yelled without effect at the girls.

The light changed. The minivan pulled into the intersection. Giulia followed suit.

“Very good.”

Giulia thought with satisfaction about breaking his jaw. No, his nose because they were in tight quarters.

Fitch settled his shoulders into the bucket seat and braced the gun with both hands. “We have time. Let me tell you a story about a lovely woman, a handsome man, and their clueless flunky.”

Forty-One

Giulia reduced her speed to forty as she attempted to merge onto the interstate. An eighteen-wheeler changed to the right-hand lane directly in front of her, cutting her off. She took her foot off the gas, but Fitch dug the gun in deeper. “Speed up. Merge directly into the middle lane. Now.”

“I have no desire to die under the wheels of a semi.”

“Me neither. I could’ve managed that merge without instructions, though. Didn’t they teach you to drive in the nunnery?”

She didn’t bother to answer.

Giulia drove in the right-hand lane, letting everyone pass her. She hadn’t realized how few cars actually drove the speed limit. Funny.

Amazing what her brain came up with when she was in mortal danger. Because she was. Fitch wasn’t about to let her go. If she wanted to survive, she had to take his gun away.

“To continue the story of our three-way strategy game. There we were, Lori and I, working for The Man. It wasn’t enough.” He watched the traffic for a few seconds. “Look out for that moron changing lanes without signaling.”

Giulia bit her lip so she wouldn’t talk back to the guy holding a gun on her. “But Loriela became head of accounting in less than a year and you’re head of sales. Those positions must come with impressive salaries.”

A set of three minivans whirred past them on Fitch’s side. A moving van rumbled by Giulia.

“Impressive by some standards, maybe. The trouble was, Lori and I were tired of waiting, doing it the slow way. That’s for grunts and women on the Mommy Track.” He glanced out the windshield again. “Cop on your left. Be a good girl now.”

Giulia amended her earlier promise to herself. She was going to break more than his nose.

The police car hit its siren. A silver mustang accepted defeat and signaled its trip to the right shoulder and a speeding ticket.

“Back to the plan. What’s a great set up without some eager fanboy to do the real work? Tulley had it bad for Lori. He practically drooled when she wore shirts that showed cleavage, and Lori knew how to use people.” He leaned closer to Giulia. “Right at the speed limit. You obey orders so well it’s a wonder how you haven’t run your husband’s agency into the ground.”

Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but she loosened them a moment later. Body language could give her away. 

“I know what you’re thinking. Lori used me. Yep, she did, and I used her. We both knew it. Then Len got the idea that Lori would be better off with him.” The ugly laugh reappeared. “Lori and I used to laugh our asses off about Len. I kept laughing even when Lori started to turn into her shrew of a mother. That’s when I went to work on Len. Took that lump of fat an entire year to figure out I played him.”

Traffic thinned. Giulia kept checking for the marked or unmarked police car that should be following her. If Geranium had been listening. If Geranium made that call.

Fitch pointed to the upcoming exit sign. “Ridge Road. Don’t get any ideas.”

Giulia changed lanes.

“Can’t leave this story without a punch line. When I found out the other day somebody tried to pin Lori’s murder on me because of that old abortion story, I didn’t have to look far. Only Lori and Colby and Len knew that story.” His foot beat a pattern on the floor mat. “Nobody plays Roger Fitch. So I changed plans fast. Withdrew everything from our shared bank accounts except a hundred bucks. Who’s he going to complain to? Not the cops. Not the bank. Now he’s dumb and broke and screwed. I’m free and rich and about to drive off into the sunset. Starting tomorrow, there will be no Roger Fitch to track down.”

Giulia went with the obvious TV show dialogue. “Mr. Fitch, there’s no way you can escape the police. They know your car because you reported the theft.”

Another laugh. “Planning, Driscoll. Planning is everything. I’ve got a spare set of plates stashed in one of the cabins. Rented it last week under a fake name and paid cash. There’s the off-ramp. Exit now.”

She left the expressway and circled onto Ridge Road. This wasn’t good. If Geranium had made that phone call, surely the police would’ve caught up to them on 376. And if she did call and the police were searching, how were they going to find the car now that they were off the main road?

“Speed limit change. Slow down.”

Shut up, Fitch.

“Turn right on Bayer. See it? About a hundred yards ahead.”

Giulia couldn’t think of a reason to stop the car while they were still on a somewhat busy road. She stopped it anyway.

“What the hell? Drive!”

Timid Giulia said,
“I can’t do this. It’s wrong. I work for the good guys—”

He clipped her across the face with the barrel of the gun. Her lip split.

“Move!”

She shook her head, making it a tight, scared movement.

A siren reached her ears at last. Loud and getting louder with every revolution.

Fitch cursed. “Drive the car.”

Giulia gripped the wheel and kept her foot on the brake. A green hatchback drove past them on the other side of the divided road. In her rearview mirror a school bus appeared from the same exit ramp. She looked right and left.

The shoulders on both sides of the road dipped and rose before they met the treeline.

He hit her cheek twice, harder than the blow to her mouth. “Drive the car or I’ll beat you blind on one side and shove your foot onto the gas pedal myself.”

Her ears rang, but she still heard the siren—sirens, plural—closing the gap between them. Fitch clubbed her knee with the butt of the gun. The sharp pain knocked her foot partially off the brake. The car jerked forward. Giulia caught a flashing red and blue light angling toward them from the exit ramp.

She floored it. Fitch fell back into his seat. She swung onto Bayer and increased speed. Fitch spewed threats and curses at her. The sirens grew loud enough to force him to shout over them. A VW bus chugged along in front of her. She swung around it much too fast and grazed its side mirror when she cut back in front of it.

The VW driver leaned on the horn. Fitch grabbed the wheel with his left hand and tried to spin it out of her grip. The car swerved across both lanes. The sirens got louder. The VW braked and faded from the rearview mirror.

Fitch shouted until Giulia thought she’d go deaf from his voice on top of the sirens. “Slow down! You’re gonna wreck us! Slow down!” They fought for control of the steering wheel. The speedometer inched past seventy. The Buick caught the rear bumper of a Mini Cooper. The Cooper spun and landed with its back wheels in the ditch by the opposite side of the road.

Giulia saw flashing lights in the rearview mirror.

Now.

She wrenched the steering wheel to the left. The front wheels hit the grass. The tires skidded for a heartbeat. The car flipped over on its side and kept rolling. The roof straddled the ditch and the car tilted one last time.

It stopped when its roof smashed against three pine trees, lower branches crunching against the windshield and the passenger windows. The Buick’s wheels still spun, the engine notching down step by step from racing speed.

Fitch sprawled against the door, his seat belt pressing down on his ear. Giulia hung sideways in hers, the edge cutting into her waist. Her ears rang. Her heart pounded. Her face throbbed from Fitch’s blows. Her knee twinged when she tried to move it. She shook her head to get it clear.

She peeled her fingers off the steering wheel. Fitch’s knuckles were white from his grip on the gun and he muttered as he tried to free his trapped elbows.

“You can’t do this to me.” Blood dripped down the side of his face. “I’ll shove your dead body out that door in front of your cop husband.”

He aimed the gun at last. Giulia grabbed his hands. His finger groped for the trigger. She pushed his hands toward the dashboard, away from her. He jerked. She lost her grip for an instant, got it back, and wrenched Fitch’s wrists a hundred and eighty degrees. His bones snapped like the paperclip she used to pick his lock.

He yelled louder than the approaching sirens. Giulia got one hand on the gun barrel. Fitch’s left hand flopped away but his right hand clutched it tighter. His spit struck her face as he screamed at her.

Giulia’s other hand closed around his right wrist. She used that leverage to clamp his elbow to his side. She pushed his wrist into his chest and wrenched it toward the dashboard.
Crack.

The gun fell into her hand.

His swollen, red eyes stared at her. “You broke my wrists.”

If Giulia had been the sheltered convent refugee Fitch had assumed all along, she would’ve been appalled. As it was, she only wanted him to shut up.

“How the hell did you do that, you spineless bitch?”

Giulia trained the gun on him as the sirens reached deafening levels and then cut off.

“Jackie Chan movies.”

His stupefied look was a satisfactory reward.