Nun Too Soon (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 1) (9 page)

“That’s my bird clock. I have a Christmas carol one that I keep up from November through February. The birdsong clock makes me think of summer.”

Giulia stood. “You’ve been wonderful, but I have to run. Two more interviews are waiting for me.”

“Then I won’t keep you. This has been the nicest surprise.” Geranium stood and ran into the kitchen, returning with her cell phone. “Tell me you don’t mind taking a picture together.”

“No, not at all.”

“I’m so pleased. My granddaughters will get such a charge out of this.” Geranium held the phone at arm’s length and put her curly gray head next to Giulia’s curly brown one. “Three—two—one—smile!”

Blinded by the flash for the moment, Giulia blinked several times while Geranium checked the photo.

“Perfect. All right, Mrs. Driscoll, I’m done taking up your time. You catch whoever murdered that poor thing, now.”

“That’s what I plan to do,” Giulia said as she shook her host’s hand.

She walked steadily down the hall to the elevator, thinking about nothing, then to her car, still thinking about nothing, right up to the point where she locked herself in and opened the voice message function on her phone. Staring at a spot in the distance and unfocusing her eyes, she dictated everything she remembered about the interview. Every word, every impression her mind retained went into the memo: what the apartment looked like, what the cookies tasted like, Geranium’s facial expressions and tone of voice as she described Fitch and Gil and the night she called the cops on them. All the denials that she was nosy and all the details from her eavesdropping sessions.

Twenty minutes later, she saved the memo.

“Mnemonics rule.” She rubbed her eyes and saw the word around her again. “All right, Leonard Tulley, let’s talk about why you set up a Google search for your boss’ boyfriend.” A new idea struck her. “Or for your boss. How much of a stalker are you?”

Fourteen

Leonard Tulley worked Monday through Friday from seven a.m. to three p.m. in the accounting department at AtlanticEdge. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays from six p.m. to nine p.m. he became resident brewmaster at Long Neck, the trendy downtown microbrewery.

Worked for Giulia. She rang the doorbell of his condo at 3:45 on the dot.

The man who answered the door reminded her of about five different people. Bruce Willis, if the actor had been black, stopped working out, and added fifty pounds, mostly in the gut. Samuel L. Jackson and The Rock and Vin Diesel, with the same body issues. Charles Barkley and...that was it. Charles Barkley in his sports announcer job. Flabbier and with a beer gut Giulia’s great-grandfather would’ve been proud of.

“You’re Ms. Driscoll, right?” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Come in.”

The whole place was a monument to college football. Group photos of teams and beefcake shots of a younger Tulley hung everywhere. A framed jersey dominated the wall above the living room couch. Trophies sat on top of the entertainment center, crowning the 42-inch TV like castle turrets. An entire row of sports and war games for the Xbox lined the bottom of the sectioned wooden structure, the Xbox itself in a narrow vertical slot next to the games.

Giulia took note of the doors and windows as he led her into the dining nook. This accountant gave her a definite impression of someone not to be trusted. Foolish, really, since she had no reason to doubt he was exactly what he appeared to be: An ex-jock gone to seed.

The Scoop
’s daily half-hour of rumor and mud-flinging blared on the TV. Giulia turned away from the screen.

She and Tulley sat opposite each other at the octagonal table, between them a football-shaped Lazy Susan stacked with condiments.

“So what do you want to know about Roger?” His flat voice challenged her to convince him she was legitimate or else he’d toss her out onto the landscaping.

“In your case, Mr. Tulley, I’d like some information about the video of him you discovered online.” Giulia kept her voice efficient and bright, but not perky.

“Huh? Why?”

“It’s part of the investigation Mr. Fitch’s attorney hired us to do. In the first place, how did you happen to notice it? The web is overflowing with videos of people’s dirty laundry.”

His wheels turned, but at a slug’s pace. Giulia, watching his eyes, wondered if he was drunk. Then she wondered if he was punch-drunk. A thirty-four year old former defensive tackle—she’d seen that in the photos—would’ve played in the pre-concussion awareness years.

“I was bored,” he said at last. “Nothing on TV, nobody online to play Madden.” His eyes slid to her right. “You know how that is. You sit there and surf the web.” His eyes slid to her left.

Liar, Giulia thought.

“We all do that,” she said with a smile. “I’ll start looking at cat pictures and the next thing I know an hour’s disappeared.”

One corner of his mouth curled up. Giulia couldn’t tell if it was the beginning of a smile or a sneer.

“Yeah, you don’t look like the online porn type. It was like this: I’ve got a few search strings I use whenever I think I’ve been a bachelor too long. Nagging wives, screaming in-laws, kids from hell. Everybody uploads their sneaky videos.” His eyes didn’t shift as much during that confession.

“And?”

“And I could’ve sworn I started watching some streaky-haired broad ripping Roger a new one. I blew it up full-size and sure enough, there was Roger and Loriela and, according to the description, Roger’s ‘mother-in-law,’ all of ’em looking like an episode of
The Jerry Springer Show
. You remember that one? Back when they used to throw chairs at each other and the bouncers would wrestle the idiots to the floor.”

Giulia nodded.

“Loriela’s mother kept switching from English to Spanish but I got the gist of it. Especially the cursing. That broad can cuss with the best. Then a barstool went flying and Loriela was bleeding and things got even crazier.”

“I’ve seen the video.”

“Roger showed it to you? He’s got balls.”

With an effort, Giulia refrained from reacting. Tulley appeared to be trying to get her to rise to his locker-room language. The longer she kept her interested face on, the more it ought to goad him into revealing something juicy. If Giulia could play one part well, it was the proper lady.

She said, “He recognized that concealing information I could find out on my own would be counterproductive to our investigation.”

That did it. Tulley’s eyes rolled back in his head before he caught himself.

“Yeah, whatever. So Roger’s baring his soul to you to keep his butt out of the death chamber. Always said he was the smart one.” He tilted his chair back and twisted his head to the left. “It’s after four. I gotta get to the brewery soon. You need anything else?”

Giulia thought fast. “I’m going over some of the ground the police already covered, if you’ll bear with me. Did Mr. Fitch or Ms. Gil have any enemies that you knew of?”

A snort. “You serious? Loriela stepped on a bunch of heads to get to the top of Accounting. Roger’s broken a bunch of hearts and pissed off a lot more. I heard he dumped one of his pieces when she got pregnant, but he’ll deny it.”

“I’ll check into that. Thank you. Would you consider any of those people capable of murdering Ms. Gil out of revenge or out of a desire to frame Mr. Fitch for the killing?” Giulia didn’t move when she asked this crucial question, just like she’d kept still in Geranium’s apartment.

The sluggish eyes dropped their glaze and came into tight focus on her. Giulia kept her own camouflage in place: The precise, pedantic investigator, checking off points on her invisible list.

“That’s what you think?” Tulley said. “Or is that what his lawyer thinks?”

“I’m exploring every possible angle. We have less than two weeks until the start of the trial.”

“Damn, you’re twisty. Roger told me you were a pushover because you used to be a bleeding-heart nun.” His grin turned hard. “I think I’ll let him find that out for himself.” He stood. “All right, Ms. Driscoll, point to you. Here’s who I’ve got money on: One, Loriela’s ex—the bartender, not the actor. Two, Roger’s apocryphal baby mama. Three, Roger’s hotshot lawyer. Four, Roger.”

Giulia stood and pushed in her chair. “You surprise me.”

“No smoke without fire. Did you know that Roger and his lawyer went to high school together? Big sports rivals, but all friendly and best buds. That is, ’til they got to fighting for the last starting position on the basketball team. They’ll say they’re over that high school rivalry now, but what man ever lets go of the sports glory he thinks he should’ve had?” Tulley pointed to his knees. “I was second string All American. All set for the NFL draft ’til I blew out both knees. Trust me when I tell you I’ve never forgiven the bastards who ruined my career with a deliberate below-the-belt tackle.”

He opened the door on another ex-jock type whose finger stopped short of the bell.

“Dude. Gimme a ride?”

“Sure. Come in for a minute.” Tulley shook Giulia’s hand. “Roger and his lawyer haven’t forgotten it either. That lawyer’s big on justice and second chances and all that, but you ask him about the season Roger got the last starting position and the lawyer warmed the bench.”

He closed the door on her.

Giulia took a deep breath and walked straight to her car. She opened the voice memo function on her phone and talked. 

Fifteen minutes later, she saved it and sank back against the headrest. “I need an extra-large glass of red wine.”

Fifteen

Red wine and driving being incompatible, Giulia drove to her last appointment instead.

Cottonwood was a mere twenty minutes from Pittsburgh, on a good day. A good day not at rush hour. Giulia maneuvered the Nunmobile off bumper-to-bumper route 376 much too soon for the GPS on her phone, which shut up in the middle of a word. Giulia stuck her tongue out at it.

Her detour saved her eleven minutes. She reached Cassandra Gil’s apartment building four minutes early and found a narrow slot labeled “Compact Cars Only” in the parking lot.

Theories and interview plans spawned by Tulley’s quick-change revelations jostled each other for headspace. This interview would be a waste of her time if her mind wasn’t clear.

Last year, Sidney discovered Kundalini yoga. Giulia had let herself be dragged to a few sessions, but she preferred attacking an elliptical machine or a circuit training session. She did find the breathing exercises quite useful. Sitting in a bucket seat was pretty much the worst position, but Long Deep Breathing was what she needed.

She closed her eyes and corrected her posture as much as possible. Inhale...fill the abdomen...expand the chest...fill the lungs...hold it...contract the diaphragm and force out the air.

Four of those and her head cleared. She checked her hair—like it made a difference—and headed to apartment 517 to meet the mama bear in that bar fight video.

Mama bear must have been on the lookout, because her door popped open when Giulia was still five feet away from it.

“Mrs. Driscoll, I am very happy you are here. Please come in. Thank you for arriving on time. Not everyone remembers to be courteous to old women.”

Giulia said something polite and followed her in. The blond-and-black streaked hair had been replaced by plain black speckled with gray. She was still rail-thin, but her shoulders stooped a trifle now and frown lines marred her otherwise flawless skin.

The apartment was smaller and darker than Geranium’s. It also had signs of more than one person occupying it. A well-used recliner faced the TV on one side of a low table and a slider rocking chair faced it on the other. Two cell phones lay on the kitchen counter, and when Giulia came all the way into the kitchen, she saw a laundry basket with lacy bras and tightie-whities on top of a pile of clothes. The sound of a running shower reached her from somewhere to the left.

“Come and sit down, please. Would you like coffee? A beer?”

“Thank you, no. I’m fine.”

Cassandra sat kitty-corner to Giulia, hands interlaced before her on the table. “Why are you working for the piece of
mierda
who murdered my Loriela?”

Giulia blinked. “Because there is a chance he didn’t. I’m going to find out who’s responsible, whether it’s Roger Fitch or someone else.”

A sharp nod. “You are a fair woman. I will prove to you he is the killer so I may watch his execution and drink a glass of champagne at the moment he dies.”

Before Giulia could form a neutral yet encouraging response, the shower turned off.

“George!” Cassandra called into the silence, “We have company. Put on pants if you are coming out here.” Her voice modulated for Giulia with the next sentence. “He works seven-to-three at the nursing home. Sometimes he’s so tired he comes out in nothing but his underwear and drops into his chair for a few hours. He is a hard worker.”

Giulia answered the pride in Cassandra’s voice. “Hospital work can be grueling. A friend of mine is an emergency room nurse. The stories she tells make me tired just listening to them.”

Cassandra perked up. “George is a nurse too. I thought it was strange, a man being a nurse and not a doctor. Then he told me of the muscles it requires to lift the old people who cannot walk and I told him that I am not too old to learn something new.” She resettled herself. “Where do you want to start?”

“Tell me about the restraining order.”

Loriela’s mother indulged in several unprintable Spanish words. Giulia had heard worse in her years of teaching high school. A tall man with long, wet hair in a ponytail walked into Giulia’s line of vision. Wearing (
oh, good
) pants and a t-shirt.

“Cassie, stop it.” He kissed the top of her head. “She knows you’re angry. Use it.” He held out his hand to Giulia. “I’m George Barras.”

“Giulia Falcone-Driscoll.” She shook his hand, if her own hand disappearing completely in his gigantic muscled fingers could be called a legitimate handshake.

“I’ll leave you two to business. The TV volume won’t disturb you, I promise.” He snagged a Bud from the refrigerator and settled into his recliner.

Cassandra pressed the heels of her hands into her temples. “George is right. I apologize. What do you want to know about the restraining order?”

“Let’s start with the video someone took at the bar.”

More Spanish invective.

“He and Loriela stayed here that Christmas. She wanted me to meet him. I told her he was bad business, but she told me I had made too many bad decisions to throw stones at her.” She pressed her lips together and breathed deeply. “Loriela preferred dangerous men, like I used to. I could have wished she took after me in keeping to a household budget instead.” A small smile.

Giulia returned it, but didn’t interrupt the flow of words.

“That man lounged around for four days, complaining that he was bored. Then he would go drinking and return after midnight. He disliked my cooking and argued with Loriela and tried to ignore me. I might as well have sold tickets to the neighbors. Every time I opened my door all the other doors in the hall closed much too fast.”

Giulia made a sympathetic noise.

“The last day, all three of us had had enough. We said out loud everything we had been thinking all that time. He walked out. Loriela and I said terrible things to each other before she walked out after him.” Her bony hands twisted together on the tabletop. “I saw through his charm and he knew it. Loriela might have, because she was smart and also beautiful, but she loved him so it didn’t matter to her.” Another small smile. “I made use of the neighbors for once. After she left, I knocked on Mrs. Harper’s door at the end of the hall because her windows look out onto the whole street. Her face was a picture. I asked her where Loriela went and she told me.”

A laugh track from the TV filled the momentary pause.

“Sorry,” George said.

“That bar is not a good place for women. When I walked in, he and Loriela were still arguing. I could see he was halfway to being drunk. The words he said to my daughter in such a place made me so angry that I returned to my days in the barrio. You would be surprised, Mrs. Driscoll, at the language that came from me, a mother who raised a successful businesswoman. But you have seen the video, so you know. Do you have children?”

“Not yet.”

Cassandra nodded. “But you will. Then you will watch that video and understand. The drinking men sat there and laughed at Loriela and I fighting like cats in the street. I do not know how it would have ended, but then Loriela grabbed her man’s arm and her man, who should have protected her, threw her away so she injured herself on a barstool.” Her smile wasn’t pleasant this time. “They left the bar together, but I had the man who filmed it send a copy to me. I took that to the police officer who patrols this neighborhood and he went with me to his father the judge.”

“You have connections.”

Cassandra shook her head, her hair swinging across her face. “It is not that. Loriela grew up here. Everyone knows her. The judge’s sister is the nurse who delivered her. She went to school with the police officer. We take care of each other, especially now the neighborhood is older and the crime rate is rising. The judge watched the video and listened to my stories of what happened over Christmas and issued the Order of Protection.” Another unpleasant smile. “Loriela called me the night it was delivered to him. I heard him cursing in the background. She took the telephone out onto her balcony. She was angry that I had interfered, but she did not say evil words to me.”

Giulia risked interrupting the narrative flow. “I understand the order was vacated later on.”

Cassandra’s fingers knotted themselves together again. “She allowed him too much control. I did not care that she loved him. He was bad for her. They demanded a hearing. By that time, he had wormed his way back into Loriela’s heart and mind. At the hearing, he established a rapport with the judge, a man, right away.” A pause. “Loriela took his side against me. The judge vacated the order. I lost my temper and said regrettable things until the judge threatened me with contempt. Roger Fitch strangled my Loriela one year and three months later.”

Her toneless voice, so animated earlier, said much more than her words. Giulia let the accusation slide. Only an idiot would mess with the transient bond they’d established. Giulia was not that idiot.

“Do you know of anyone else who hated your daughter? Anyone who considered her their enemy?” Cassandra opened her mouth and Giulia held up both hands. “I know you think Roger Fitch killed her. That may be the case, but it’s my job to research every possibility.”

Cassandra frowned. “You said that earlier. I understand it with my head, but my heart says you are wrong. Let me think—George, we need your help.”

He stretched out of the recliner and came over to the table. “Yes?”

“What enemies did Loriela have?”

He looked from Cassandra to Giulia with surprise. “There was that actor. You remember him. The one with more ego than talent.”

“Oh. Roger Fitch protected Loriela from him. That is right.” She gave Giulia an innocent smile. “You see? I too can be fair. The actor was a dangerous type. Attractive and forceful and charming, like Roger, only Roger’s charm masks those traits much better.”

“What did the actor do?” Fitch hadn’t mentioned that one.

“He tracked Loriela to work and waited in the parking lot for her. As though threats would make a woman change her mind about a man. She and Roger Fitch were driving to work together, although they were still living separately. The one good thing Roger Fitch did was to send that actor away with a black eye.”

Giulia made a mental note to find out his identity, just in case.

“I heard about a bartender, too.” Giulia couldn’t recall the name Fitch had given her—something to do with a movie actor—and she’d left her tablet in the glove compartment. Not that she was about to do anything to bust up this interview.

George crossed his arms. “He thought he was something.”

Cassandra looked up at George.

“Loriela should have found a man like you.” She said to Giulia, “Loriela had dropped the bartender long before Roger Fitch, but the bartender called me for her new phone number a year later. He had no experience with mothers of young women. I told him that he was a leech and should be squashed under my shoe. He found out her number somehow and called her. She told him exactly what she thought of him and threatened him with the police. Ironic, no? Between both of us we got through to him. He left her alone after that.”

“Mrs. Gil, I appreciate everything you’ve told me. I won’t take up any more of your time today.” Giulia stood. Cassandra stood with her. George headed for the door.

“You will call me, please, when you learn that I am right.” Cassandra shook Giulia’s hand. “I promise I will not say ‘I told you so.’”

“Cassie,” George said. He opened the door.

Giulia shook George’s hand. “Thank you for your help. I’ll certainly call within ten days. We have to finish our investigation before the trial starts.”

“Yes, I know all about the trial. I have been subpoenaed.” She patted George’s arm. “He reminds me at least once a day that I must be calm and detached when the lawyers ask me questions. I am practicing.”

“We’ll make her a model witness,” George said.

Giulia tried to keep her mind blank in the elevator, but one thought squeezed through: If Fitch’s trial were televised, it would eclipse NCAA March Madness.