Nun Too Soon (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 1)

by Alice Loweecey

  “First I’d like to know what you thought of both of them, Fitch and Ms. Gil.” Giulia slipped into her mnemonic memory space. People always talked more freely when she didn’t bring out a tape recorder or pen and paper.

  “They liked their battles, those two. At least once a week they’d be yelling about this and arguing about that.” Geranium’s eyes rolled up beneath her wrinkled eyelids. “Money, sometimes. Roaming eyes, most of the time. Mind you, I don’t think either of them cheated on the other, but they liked to pretend.”

  “They actually enjoyed fighting?” This didn’t surprise her, despite her appearance that it did.

  “Well, if you’ll pardon the expression, I think what they liked was the making-up.” For a moment Geranium appeared embarrassed. “The walls in this building could be thicker, if you get what I mean. Those two had...stamina.”

  Giulia nodded. “I get what you mean. Do you know anything about the police being called during one of their fights?”

  “Darn right I do. I called them once, and Nosy Nora across the hall called the police twice.”

  “Three times in two years? They sound like the floor’s personal reality show.”

  Geranium held up a hand. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. The first time I called the cops, the two of them were cussing and throwing dishes or some such. Crash! Cuss! Smash! It got so bad me and Sue Ann and Katsuo stood out in the hall waiting for one of them to bust through the door. Finally Old Man Vandenburg knocked on their door loud enough to shut them up. That Fitch opened it and cussed him right to his face, and Vandenburg’s old enough to be his grandfather.”

  “And yet Fitch always seems so charming.”

  Geranium’s laugh sounded more like a cackle. “Never trust the ones who can turn that charm off and on like a light switch. Anyway. After Fitch slammed the door in Joe Vandenburg’s face, I went right back into this apartment and called 9-1-1. They got here pretty fast. It’s nice to live in a higher rent district.” She grinned.

  Giulia returned the grin and the sentiment. She’d lived in some places where it wasn’t safe to go out in the daytime, let alone after dark.

  “What did the police do?”

  Geranium rubbed papery-sounding hands together.

  “Oh, it was a show. The cops banged on the door too, and all the while the screaming and breaking noises still came through, but not as often. Finally Fitch opened the door and opened his mouth like he was about to say something that would’ve made his mother slap him silly. Then he saw it was the cops. He choked on whatever had been in his mind to say, and called to poor Miss Gil calm as you please. Said something like the police were there, honey, and could she come talk to them with him.”

  “What did the police do?”

  “They stood in the hall and talked to Fitch and Miss Gil together. Said they’d gotten a report.”

  Giulia recalled Fitch’s quick-change personality in her office. “Could he always shut off his anger that quickly?”

  “I couldn’t speak to ‘always.’ Most times I’ve seen him, he’s talking into his cell phone. As long as they lived here, they never took their fights outside of their apartment. They knew how to keep the right face on in public.”

  “What did they say to the police that night?”

  “Some bold-faced lies about him dropping the dish that was her mama’s favorite dish, so she broke his favorite coffee mug.”

  “The police believed it?”

  “Not much else they could do. Miss Gil said everything was just fine now and Fitch backed her up. Her hair and clothes weren’t mussed, she didn’t have a mark on her, and neither did he. They both laughed about the old biddies who liked to pry into everyone’s business. Finally the police asked them to keep the noise down and left.”

  “And they winked and laughed and said they’d do their best?”

  Geranium nodded, chomping down harder than necessary on her soft cookie.

  “Why do you think they were together if they fought so much?”

  Geranium studied the rest of her cookie with a critical eye. “I prefer the blackberry jam to the raspberry. You try one and tell me what you think. As for those two next door, they loved each other, far as I could tell. But they both wanted things their own way too much. Especially about money. Lord, did they fight like cats and dogs about money.” She washed the cookie down with the rest of her coffee.

  “How do you know, if you didn’t talk to them much?”

  Her host chewed the inside of her cheek. “Well, you see, I’m retired and I don’t watch much TV. All those greedy people screaming and fighting or hopping in and out of bed like it was an Olympic event.”

  Giulia bit into a blackberry cookie to conceal a smile.

  “I can tell you this, because you were a good influence on my granddaughters back when you were a nun. People don’t change, not deep in their bones. So you won’t look down on me like Miss Nosy across the hall.”

  “Of course not.”

  Geranium nodded once, a sharp movement. “I knew it. You see, they were loud and the walls are thin, like I said. So when things got interesting on the other side of the wall...I scooted a chair right up to it and listened.”

  Giulia held up the remaining half of her cookie. “I see what you mean about the blackberry. Now, since you had a front-row seat, you can help me find justice for Ms. Gil.”

  “Oh, yes. That poor thing needs peace. And her mother, too. I only met her once, but she sure left an impression.”

  It took a lot of restraint for Giulia not to lean forward, to stay sitting quite straight as though this upcoming information was no more or less important than everything else she’d learned this afternoon.

  “Like I said earlier, they fought about money and each other’s roaming eyes. The worst fights they had, though, were about wanting things. He wanted a bigger TV, a faster car, pricey liquor, things like that. She wanted stuff too, but what she really craved was power. There she was, young and pretty and head of the bookkeeping at that huge company, but it wasn’t enough.”

  “And Fitch didn’t want power?” Giulia’s posture still didn’t alter.

  “Not that kind. He used to lecture her like a preacher on Sunday. He liked working for someone with power so he could sell things when he wanted and play when he wanted. It was all what he wanted and to the devil with anything in his way.” Geranium studied Giulia the same way she’s weighed the finer points of the cookie. “But I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”

  “I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

  “That’s what you’re supposed to do, I guess.” Geranium made a face. “Me, I don’t have to play nice. That Fitch is a real piece of work. Mind, I’m not saying he’s a killer. I wouldn’t want anybody, not even my mother-in-law, God rest her wicked soul, to be wrongly convicted for murder. Nobody gets a do-over for the death penalty.”

  A black-capped chickadee whistled from the kitchen. Giulia started. Geranium chuckled.

  “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.