“Cruel woman. Put this one on speaker.”
The timestamp on this last message read 1:15 a.m.
“You’re sound asleep, aren’t you?” Fitch’s voice slurred a little. “Think you’re safe in your bed with your big, bad cop hus-sband next to you, huh? Lori thought she was safe in bed next to me ’til s-somebody opened the balcony door.” He laughed, belched, and hung up.
Giulia flicked the phone across the kitchen table. “Everything that man does and says is slimy.”
Frank was smiling. “You don’t appreciate the little gifts he just left us. If you’re right—and I think you are—concluding he finagled his co-embezzler into killing Gil, a good lawyer can use those two messages to bolster that part of the case. The prosecuting attorney for Fitch’s trial is a very good lawyer.”
Giulia considered that. “Then why did he allow Fitch to delay the trial for us to chase this wild goose?”
Frank shrugged. “Strategy. He wanted the extra time to refine his case. Also, hiring you gave Fitch more rope to hang himself. Win-win for the other side.”
“But he didn’t win. Fitch didn’t kill Loriela. I’m even more sure this morning now that I’ve got it down in order on paper. Petit will be able to get an acquittal on reasonable doubt. You know he will. He’s that good.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. The state will find enough to indict the other guy and will find ways to work around the fact that all this new evidence is circumstantial like the Fitch evidence. From what you’ve said about the other guy, he’ll stab Fitch in the back to get a reduced sentence, and that will be that. I’m not even counting the embezzlement issue, which will put both of them in jail anyway.” Frank downed the rest of his coffee and grinned. “I hope they get assigned to the same cell.”
Giulia stood and brought her cup to the sink. “When I asked Fitch about his pregnant ex-girlfriend he talked about backstabbing. Tulley was the one who told me about her. I should’ve picked up on their rivalry earlier.” She rinsed the cup and put it in the dishwasher. “Today might be another long day. We have to get everything to Fitch’s lawyer before noon and I want to complete the AtlanticEdge report by five.”
“I will revitalize your day by opening the door for you tonight wearing only a kilt and a smile.”
Giulia splurted a laugh. “I dare you.”
Thirty-Nine
Giulia left identical voicemails for Sidney and Zane: “I’m bringing breakfast.” That meant the Garden of Delights, which was worth every extra minute in rush-hour traffic. She positioned the logo side of the box so it preceded her into the office.
Sidney squealed. “You are the best boss ever.”
“Whoa,” Zane said. “Thanks.”
“It was the obvious choice.” Giulia searched for a place to set down the box. “Sidney, you’re right. We need a table in here.”
A cough from behind Sidney’s monitor sounded a lot like “I told you so.”
“Set it on this corner.” Zane dumped his desk calendar and unfinished projects on his chair. “Dibs on first choice.”
“Weasel,” Sidney said. “Doesn’t matter, anyway, because we don’t eat the same things.”
Giulia passed out two cups of coffee and one of peppermint tea.
“Jane, I don’t know your caffeine preference, so I got sugar and creamers on the side.”
“Wow. Thanks.” Jane held the paper cup like she’d been transported direct to Christmas morning.
“Sidney, these are almond with raspberry cream and carrot with raw milk cream cheese.” Giulia handed her two cupcakes on a Garden logo paper plate. “For the rest of us, I got an assortment: Two each of tiramisu, triple chocolate, strawberry shortcake, and snickerdoodle. The shortcakes are vegan too, if mini-Sidney is particularly ravenous this morning.”
For several minutes silence reigned in the office. Giulia finished her second cupcake and tossed the paper in Zane’s trash can.
“Tiramisu,” she said.
“Triple chocolate,” Zane said. “You can never beat three kinds of chocolate in one.”
“If you people would ever try their vegan cupcakes,” Sidney said, “you’d see that the almond-raspberry is unsurpassable.”
Jane said in a hesitant voice, “Snickerdoodle?”
“See, the texture is all wrong for me,” Giulia said. “My mouth agrees with the taste, but can’t accept that it’s not flat and chewy. Same with the shortcake, but the strawberry whipped cream filling makes up for it.”
The phone rang.
“Interlude over,” Zane said.
“Alas,” Giulia said. She lowered her voice so Zane could hear the caller. “Go ahead with training, both of you. Zane and I will type our fingers raw for the rest of the day.”
“Thanks for breakfast,” Jane said.
“It’s not a regular thing,” Giulia said. “Driscoll Investigations went above and beyond yesterday.”
Zane hung up the phone.
“New client.” He wrote on a miniature legal pad. “Wants you to call him. Nothing urgent.”
“That’s good, because we don’t have space for urgent today. I’ll take the AtlanticEdge report because I wrote up Fitch’s case in a lot more detail.”
Giulia closed her door, opened the window and typed. Not twenty minutes later, the phone rang. Her buzzer sounded right after.
“Sorry, Ms. Driscoll, but it’s Leonard Tulley. I thought you might want to take this one.”
“You thought right. Thanks.”
The transfer button turned red. She switched mental gears and pressed the button.
“This is Giulia Falcone-Driscoll, Mr. Tulley. How may I help you?”
“Remember when I told you about Roger and Colby’s high school rivalry and then about his pregnant ex?” His voice was sharp without the lazy-guy camouflage.
How about “Good morning, Ms. F-D. Thanks for taking my call.” All she said out loud was, “Yes.”
“Did you tell Roger I told you about them?”
Giulia stiffened. “Certainly not. We are professionals.”
“Didn’t think so. Well, somebody told him, or he figured it out for himself, because he kept looking at me with his snake face yesterday.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Jeez, don’t you ever watch Animal Planet? When a snake’s on the hunt it gets real still and its face sorta loses all expression. I know snakes don’t have facial expressions. I’m not stupid. But it’s like they get an aura or something.”
“Mr. Tulley, I’m not sure what your point is. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I dunno. You own a mongoose?”
Giulia laughed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, but that was a funny question. No, I don’t own a mongoose. Are you worried that Mr. Fitch will try to retaliate for something he thinks you’ve done?”
“You’re not the brightest bulb in the box, are you? I thought you had brains. Of course I’m worried. When Roger likes you, the world is perfect. If he changes his mind, watch your back. Free advice. Take it.” He was silent for a moment. “It might have been my ex who talked to him. We got hammered a couple of times and I could’ve said something. Women. Can’t trust ’em. Bye.”
Giulia hung up the phone without slamming it. Tulley had more than an angry Roger Fitch to worry about. In a week or so, depending on how fast AtlanticEdge acted on the report she was writing, Tulley would be scrambling for bail money. What he’d stolen from them might not be enough to cover it.
She dismissed Tulley from her mind and typed for the next three hours. The traffic noises kept her alert, especially the occasional siren. The phone rang twice, but Zane didn’t buzz her. She’d inserted the first screencap when Zane knocked on her door.
“Ms. Driscoll, I’ve got the summary typed up. Want me to bring it in?’
“I’ll come out.” She un-hunched and opened the door. “Oh, look. Four different walls.”
Zane was alone in the office. “The other two went to lunch.”
/> “Sure. Let’s see what we’ve got.” She walked around the office as she read, green pen in hand. “Good...good...no, I should’ve fleshed this part out more.” She bent over Sidney’s desk and added a few sentences. “Typo...Bah, that’s not what I want it to say.” She scratched out a paragraph and wrote several more sentences. “In conclusion...yes...not dramatic...logical. Good.”
She handed it back to Zane. “It doesn’t read too much like I wrote it at five o’clock this morning. Make those changes, please, and we’ll send it to Petit along with all the documents he gave me. Which reminds me: I’d better put them back together.”
Zane started retyping and Giulia took the rest of the Clue Collage apart. She carried them into her office and closed the window so they wouldn’t blow around the room. Then she tipped everything out of the courier box and began to jog the removed pages back into their original places.
The phone rang.
“I’ll get it.” She picked up. “Driscoll Investigations.”
“Ms. Falcone-Driscoll?” Colby Petit’s voice. “Is that you?”
She closed her eyes and channeled her inner admin. “Yes, Mr. Petit. We’re finishing up our final report right now.”
“Oh, terrific. I knew you’d come through. But that’s not why I’m calling. I’m neck-deep in last-minute preparations and I can’t get hold of Roger.”
“I’m sorry; is there something you think I can help you with?”
“Actually, yes. How close are you really to finishing the report for me?”
“I should have it to you by two o’clock.”
“No, that’s too late.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh. Sorry. I was thinking out loud.” His voice added an extra layer of charm. “It’s a huge favor, but would you be able to drive over to his apartment and drag him down to my office? He lost his temper last night and might have turned off his phone. I can’t get hold of him and there’s no one here I can ask to go over there. I don’t rate my own errand-runner.”
Giulia pounded her forehead on her desk. Did the man think no one besides himself had a desk full of work?
“Ms. Driscoll?”
Then again, the sooner she helped him, the sooner they’d both be off her back.
“I can squeeze it in, Mr. Petit.”
“Wonderful. You’re a life saver. I don’t care if he’s in his boxers and so hungover a whisper makes him cringe. All I ask is you throw him in your car and bring him to me.”
“I would care if he’s wearing nothing but boxers, but I get your point. Expect him in about an hour.”
Zane was still typing when she took her jacket and purse off the coat rack.
“I’m going over to Fitch’s apartment to drag his lazy butt out of bed. He turned off his phone and Petit needs him.”
“Why’d he do that?”
“I called Petit last night with the highlights of what we found and he had the brilliant idea to tell Fitch.”
Zane winced.
“For a lawyer he doesn’t score high on the common sense scale.”
“Olivier should get Petit into his office for a few sessions. Look at the way Petit is hanging onto a grudge from high school and trying to be the bigger person about it at the same time.” She checked the time. “I’ll be back in less than an hour if the traffic cooperates.”
Zane made a move toward his leather jacket. “I should come with you. You know, as muscle.”
“You were great on Saturday, but he won’t be a problem this time.” As soon as the words left her mouth, one of Frank’s lectures began playing in her head: Don’t underestimate any criminal suspect. Cornered animals attack.
“Are you sure?”
Giulia smiled at him. “You sound like Frank. Don’t worry. He’s either hung over or sleeping it off. I was a star pupil at my self-defense classes. I can take care of myself. Besides, I’m packing heat.” She laughed at the expression on Zane’s face. “I’m also going to take great pleasure in banging on Fitch’s door as loud as possible.”
Zane grinned. “Try to film it. We can upload it to YouTube under a throwaway account.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
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.
Nun Too Soon (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 1) Page 23