Nun Too Soon (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 1)

by Alice Loweecey

  “But they’re confidential.”

  Giulia lost her patience for an instant, but didn’t answer ’til she regained it. “DI is confidential. Everything goes in the shredder at the end of tonight’s session. Petit can’t expect us to come up with answers if he takes away our tools. Here. Credit card statements first.”

  Zane shut up and made the copies.

  Twenty minutes later he replaced the originals in the same envelope and called their usual courier.

  “That little print/copy/fax machine has never seemed so slow,” Giulia said. “I’ll call Petit’s office and let them know the courier’s on their way here.”

  Zane said, “That’s my job. Let me—”

  Giulia had already lifted the receiver and pressed the first digit in the courier service’s phone number when Roger Fitch’s voice from the earpiece said, “Hello? Is this Driscoll Investigations?”

  Give me strength. Giulia inhaled deeply and said in an imitation of Sidney’s voice, “Yes it is. May I help you?”

  “Give me that Driscoll woman now, dammit.”

  In the same imitation-Sidney voice, Giulia said, “One moment, please.” She pressed hold and swiveled to face first Zane and then the other two, a finger over her lips to signal silence. Then she took Fitch off hold.

  “This is Giulia Falcone-Driscoll,” she said in her normal voice.

  “This is your client, the one who’s paying you good money for doing nothing!”

  About that infusion of strength...“Mr. Fitch, I’ve already spoken to Mr. Petit.”

  “Yeah, and he’s just as useless as you. Both of you are siphoning money off me and giving me nothing in return.”

  “Mr. Fitch, I understand that the judge’s decision came as a surprise. However—”

  “Don’t give me customer service speeches. I hear them every day at work. Listen, you spineless do-gooder, I’m paying you to keep me off of Death Row. You’re no detective. You’re a thief and a con artist and I’m going to—”

  Giulia hung up on him. Heat radiated from her face. Her ears throbbed.

  “Are you okay?” Sidney said. “Want me to get your spare coffee mug for you to smash?”

  A short laugh burst out of her mouth. “Do I look that bad?”

  Zane said, “You look like my sister when her kids have pushed her to the edge.”

  “I gather that’s bad.”

  “She needs a warning siren. What did he say to you?”

  Giulia exhaled a long, slow breath. “First he accused me of stealing his money, then he called me a spineless do-gooder. Then he called me a thief and a con artist. That’s when I hung up.”

  “Whoa,” Sidney said.

  Jane said, “He packs a lot of insult into a few words.”

  Giulia said, “He would’ve used more words if I’d let him.”

  The phone rang again. Zane grabbed it before Giulia could. Everyone in the room heard Fitch shout: “Tell that bitch I’ll sue her for taking money under false pretenses! I’ll take her for every cent she’s got!”

  Zane hung up. “Ms. Driscoll, speaking as your admin, I think we should place a service call with the phone company. They’ve obviously crossed our lines with someone’s anger management therapy session.”

  Giulia leaned both arms on his desk and laughed. It was a thin laugh, but with it the heat drained from her face and ears.

  “Someone host a séance and call up Alexander Graham Bell,” she said. “This complaint should go right to the top.”

  Sidney and Zane replied with thin laughs of their own.

  Giulia straightened up. “All right, team, let’s get this boil off our butts as soon as possible. Zane, please call Petit’s office to tell them the records will be there shortly. Sidney, here’s my iPad. Please queue up any surveillance videos which correspond to the dates of the altered POs. Jane, please go through Long Neck’s checking account and make a list of the Friday and Monday morning deposits starting with April of the year before last.”

  “Why April?” Sidney said.

  “I have an idea that Roger Fitch’s ego is the kind to make him start important plans on dates that mean a lot to him. April first is his birthday.”

  Giulia returned to the corner by the window and studied her collage. The courier arrived a few minutes later. Frank called right after that.

  “Remember that Italian cheesecake I asked you to make for DeWitt’s stag party?”

  “Yes. So?”

  “So, lovely bride, that cheesecake got you a flash drive with six months’ worth of traffic cam footage from the corner of Seventh and Larch.”

  “Yes.” Giulia fist-pumped. “Can you send a courier over with it?”

  “Will do.”

  She hung up and said to the others, “We have photos from the traffic camera that faces Long Neck’s front door.”

  Sidney stopped searching files on Giulia’s tablet. “I’m missing something. Why do we need to see what happens outside of Long Neck?”

  “There’s a connection between Fitch, Tulley, and Long Neck that goes beyond the obvious. Long Neck sells Tulley’s microbrews. That makes Tulley a vendor for Long Neck. Sort of. I don’t know if Tulley tends bar too, which would make the connection a bigger knot. I have an idea about those microbrew nights.” Giulia massaged her temples. “Roger Fitch thinks I’m not giving him his money’s worth. Hah.”

  Thirty-Six

  A different courier brought the flash drive. Giulia took charge of it and plugged it into a USB port on her computer.

  “Dear God, there are thousands.”

  She pulled up the previous year’s calendar in a different window and scrolled to the camera images from the first Thursday in January.

  “Early morning rush hour...more rush hour...” She hit the down arrow until the time stamp read 4:30 p.m. A considerate red Buick ran the light as an employee of Long Neck set out a chalkboard sidewalk sign. Which Giulia couldn’t read, because the sidewalk was covered with snow and the sign was set up in the doorway to protect it.

  “You are being uncooperative,” she said to the back of the unknown employee. More arrow keystrokes until the timestamp read 5:15 the following Saturday. The sidewalks were wet but clear and the chalkboard had been moved out from the doorway. She enlarged the photo and slid it down and to the left then enlarged it some more.

  The sign read:

  Microbrew Tasting Tonight

  7-9 p.m.

  Touchdown Ale

  Play Action Lager

  Small cover charge

  “Those would be Tulley’s creations, all right.” She wrote the date on a clean sheet of her legal pad.

  She checked week after week of camera stills from every Thursday and every third Saturday nights. The camera caught a large group of regulars every Thursday. Sometimes the Saturday tasting featured three beers, but the regulars—a fancier set judging by their clothes—didn’t increase proportionately.

  That intersection featured a quick yellow light which meant a lot of red light runners. Enough that Giulia went through the Thursday and Saturday photos a second time and came out with a ballpark estimate of how many people took advantage of Happy Hour and Microbrew Tasting nights.

  A lot.

  She’d tuned out any sounds from the outer office. When she entered that room again she saw there wasn’t a lot to tune out. Jane had left and Sidney and Zane were hunched over their monitors.

  Sidney pointed at the clock with her right index finger while keeping place on her screen with her left. “Jane left a list of all the deposits you asked for and said she’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Giulia blinked at the clock. “It’s quarter to six? Good Heavens. Shall I make a caffeine run downstairs before they close?”

  “Yes, please, if you don’t mind,” Zane said.

  “You’re awesome,” Sidney said. “Chamomile smoothie, please? They make it for me even though it’s not on the menu.”

  “Large regular, three sugars, please,” Zane said.
/>   “Be right back.”

  Giulia took the steep wooden stairs two at a time, something only accomplished without injury after much practice. The afternoon barista at Common Grounds was just starting to straighten chairs and wipe tables.

  Ten minutes later, Giulia returned triumphant. “He locked the door behind me. Sidney, he says you should name the baby ‘Chamomile.’ I didn’t tell him what I thought of that.”

  Sidney sucked a mouthful of the smoothie. “Men. No offense, Zane. Oh—” She massaged her belly with slow circular motions. “Mini-Sidney always jumps when I drink these. Olivier’s going to be disappointed if she’s a vegetarian like me.”

  “He’ll sneak her bits of steak behind your back. It’ll be their bonding ritual.”

  Sidney sucked another mouthful. “That’s actually kind of cute.”

  Giulia sipped her coffee. “Hmm. Cherry-lime syrup is not a winner. Sidney, you’re mellowing. I vividly remember a certain wedding with carnivore and vegetarian food stations at opposite sides of the room.”

  Sidney blushed. “I’m not saying I’d eat steak. It’s only fair to give Olivier’s viewpoint equal time. It’s like church. We’re going to raise mini-Sidney Catholic, but she should be able to choose when she grows up.”

  Zane muttered, “I’m so going to tell my mother that the next time she calls to nag me about deserting the family religion.”

  “What do you usually say to her?” Giulia said.

  “I usually hang up.”

  “Been there. Are you guys ready for a brainstorming session?” Giulia grabbed her legal pad from her desk.

  They gathered at Sidney’s desk.

  “All I can say is that Long Neck must put something addictive in the beer,” Sidney said. “The deposits on the days after their tastings and happy hour are a little less than huge but a lot more than respectable.”

  “I like it when I’m right.” Giulia set her list of cover charges and estimates of bodies passing through the door on each targeted evening. “Here. Third week of April, two years ago. Based on the traffic cam photos, about sixty people paid the cover charge. Let’s figure I missed another forty because of inconsiderate drivers who didn’t run the red light. If we make it an even hundred, there should be, what? An extra five hundred in the Monday deposit from the cover charge, maybe. That is, compared to a Monday deposit on any other week of the month.”

  Sidney poked at Jane’s handwritten numbers. “Four hundred ten the first week, four hundred thirty-four the second week, eight hundred six for Microbrew week, three hundred sixty-one the fourth week. Whoa.”

  “Those numbers make too much sense. Let’s try the next month.”

  The deposits followed the same pattern for May through July.

  “Wow.” Sidney circled August’s third Monday deposit. “Twelve hundred and change.”

  Giulia checked her own list. “No way. They had fewer people than usual for that tasting.”

  Zane said, “Are you sure you got the numbers straight? My eyes are starting to cross and I’ve had to triple-check a few things. Um, no offense.”

  “None taken. Let me check.” Giulia returned to her computer and found the relevant dates in the photo index. “Nope,” she called. “It poured that Saturday and only about half the usual number showed up.” She was smiling as she came back to Sidney’s desk. “Thank you for being greedy, Roger.”

  “Yes, but how can we use it?” Sidney said.

  “This was my idea: Fitch is using the bar account to launder the money he’s embezzling from AtlanticEdge. What we need now is Frank. I only know the basics of money laundering. He knows a lot more.” She glanced at the clock. “He’s probably on the way home from basketball. I’ll try him in a little bit.”

  A single knock sounded on the door and it opened at the same moment.

  “Olivier!” Sidney stood as fast as a woman with a baby ready to pop could stand.

  “I bring food for the hard-working detectives,” Sidney’s husband said, plastic bags with smiley faces on them hanging from his hands.

  “You are awesome.”

  “I agree,” Giulia said. “Let me take those.” She set the bags on Zane’s desk.

  “You brought Buddhist Delight. I love you.” Sidney unpacked the bag nearest to her.

  “I know you do,” he answered in his calm, deep voice. “I also brought hot and sour soup and eggrolls for Giulia, General Tso’s for Zane, barbecue ribs for me and water for everyone.”

  Giulia pecked him on the cheek. “You are a life saver. Our deductive skills were circling the drain.”

  They shoved everything on Zane’s desk to one end and used the other end as a table. No one spoke for a good five minutes.

  Another knock and the door opened again.

  “Pizza delivery! Hey...” Frank stopped in the doorway. “Who stole my idea?”

  Thirty-Seven

  Everyone laughed. Giulia set down her eggroll and pushed back her chair.

  “Sidney and I have the most thoughtful husbands in town.” She stacked all the papers on Sidney’s desk and laid them over her keyboard. “Do I smell black olives?”

  Frank set one small and one large pizza box on the cleared space. “Of course you do. I brought water since I didn’t remember what Sidney couldn’t drink. Hi, Olivier. Do I say great minds think alike and do you say we tapped into the collective unconscious?”

  Olivier winced. “I’ll book several sessions for you in which I will open your eyes to the true nature of the collective unconscious.”

  “Only if you ride shotgun on my next drug bust.”

  Giulia cut this short. “Gentlemen, all of the wonderful food is getting cold. Frank, grab my client chair and join us. Want an egg roll?”

  They alternated between their Chinese takeout, a pepper and mushroom pizza for Sidney, and a pizza with everything for the rest of the group.

  When the eating slowed from ravenous to human, Giulia said, “Now that you’re both here, may I pick your brains?”

  “Of course,” Olivier said.

  “We have two cases that are jumbled together. First, AtlanticEdge wants us to see if certain employees are embezzling. They gave us certain employee files, two years’ worth of accounting ledgers, and their internal security camera footage. Second, Roger Fitch, the accused Silk Tie Killer, hired us to prove he’s innocent.”

  Olivier tried to stop a smile. He was unsuccessful. “I saw a replay of Monday’s Scoop episode.”

  Giulia took a bite of pizza and chomped it like it was Ken Kanning’s head. “The mere thought of The Scoop raises my blood pressure. So does Fitch, since his trial judge and prosecutor are the reason we’re pulling this late-night session. The prosecutor convinced the judge the two-week delay Fitch’s attorney wrangled is nothing but a stalling tactic. Since we didn’t have anything concrete as of this morning, the trial’s been moved up to Friday at nine.”

  Olivier whistled.

  “Exactly,” Giulia said. “On top of that, we’ve narrowed down the list of embezzlement suspects to Fitch and one of his buddies who also works at the bar Fitch is part owner of.”

  “Technically,” Zane said, “we think Fitch and his bar buddy are both embezzling.”

  “And stealing from the bar,” Sidney said. “Maybe.”

  “You meet the nicest people in this business,” Frank said. He pushed back his chair and walked over to the clue collage. “Give me specifics.”

  Sidney and Zane described the altered purchase orders and the surveillance footage involving Tulley and Loriela. Zane took over for the ledger entries. Giulia tied it into the bar deposits.

  “Frank,” Giulia finished, “come look at these bank statements. I don’t know enough about money laundering, but you do. Isn’t there a way Fitch and Tulley could verbally claim one price as the cover charge for Happy Hour and Tastings but on the books list it as a higher charge? Please say yes.”

  “Yes,” Frank said. “If there aren’t any written records of their cover cha
rge, they can deposit what they want and label it how they want.”

  Giulia and Sidney fist-bumped.

  “Don’t get excited yet,” Frank said. “How are Fitch and Tulley getting this embezzled money? You’ll notice I’m going with your assumptions for the sake of this analysis.”

  “I saw it on the surveillance videos tonight,” Sidney said. “Tulley makes the AtlanticEdge deposits once or twice a week, depending. If they ran a retail sale, then he goes twice.”

  “Wait,” Olivier said. “Don’t they bank electronically?”

  “No.” Giulia pulled a page of Loriela’s employee file off the Collage. “It says here one of the reasons Loriela got promoted to head of accounting was her, quote, forward thinking, unquote.”

  “Corporate babble,” Frank said. “What’s that really mean?”

  “She pitched a cost-effective way to switch from physical checks. Right now, because of their current bank’s procedures and their own systems, AtlanticEdge pays vendors with paper checks, and vice-versa. Employees get paper checks too.”

  “Seriously?” Frank said. “I thought every company with more than twenty-five employees went paperless years ago.”

  “A surprising number have not,” Zane said. “I researched cost-benefit analyses of paper versus electronic. The break-even point isn’t as—”

  “Zane,” Giulia said. “Later.”

  “Who cuts the checks?” Frank said.

  Giulia and Sidney glanced at each other.

  “Good question,” Giulia said. “Just a second.”

  She ran into her office and opened the AtlanticEdge files on her computer. “Eat something, you guys. This may take a minute.” She moused down the list of Human Resources files. “Research and Development, Testing, Quality Control, Marketing, Sales, Accounting, thank you...Somebody not on any of our lists is in charge of timesheets, somebody else cuts the checks, but...just a sec...oh, look at that. Tulley totals the purchase orders and gives the amounts to the check-cutter.”

  “Did they do any employee screening before they hired us?” Sidney said.