Nun After the Other

by Alice Loweecey

  “At least within the real estate redevelopment world.” Beech shook her head with an indulgent smile.

  “Are the residents generally happy to be relieved of the burden of living in deteriorating neighborhoods?” Only Giulia’s years of undercover experience enabled her to mouth such platitudes without breaking character.

  Eagle rolled his Smurf eyes. “You’ve been watching those teasers from The Scoop.” His voice soured when he said the show’s name. “I don’t waste my time on their scandal-mongering but my rivals take great joy in tweeting the links at me. Eagle Developers knows how to maintain goodwill. We pay a fair price for the properties and the residents get to move out of their shit holes.”

  Giulia smiled. “I think I’ll rephrase that for the article.”

  Eagle possessed an infectious belly laugh. “Sounds like your reporting will make up for The Scoop.”

  Beech stepped in. “Before you pose a careful question about the State Attorney General’s attempt to use us as a stepping stone to get himself re-elected, the only charge he managed to stick to us was underbidding on certain low-profile projects.”

  “Our government needs to remember it represents the entire commonwealth, not just the capital city.” Eagle stood next to his wall of windows. “Get a picture of us here. See the symbolism? We’re looking forward to the day Cottonwood is the showcase of Pennsylvania. We’re leading the charge.”

  Giulia complied.

  Twenty-Five

  The best part of Giulia’s day was getting out of the makeup and skirt. The second best was her niece and nephews not bickering on the drive from school to home. She left the boys playing the latest Assassin’s Creed and headed to the convent with Cecilia.

  Steve the Chihuahua did not disappoint. He limped. He turned big, soulful eyes up to Cecilia. She sat on the stoop and took him into her arms, cooing and petting him. Sister Olive laughed and explained Steve’s ruse in the same gentle voice she used with Sister Helena.

  “You little weasel.” Cecilia put her hands on the dog’s face and touched her nose to his. “You live with the Sisters and you think it’s okay to lie to people? They should make you do charity work with abandoned cats as penance.”

  Steve licked her face. Cecilia turned flat on her back and the dog plopped its four-pound self onto her chest. For the first time, Giulia heard Cecilia giggle like the young girl she was.

  Sister Olive gave Steve thirty seconds before freeing Cecilia. She deposited the dog onto the hall floor and swatted its behind. Steve yipped and returned to the kitchen.

  Bart appeared in the hall. “Hey, Cecilia. I’m so glad you came. The Sisters are looking forward to your visit.”

  Cecilia held up a manila folder. “I painted some pictures for them in art class.”

  “You’re terrific. Did you forget I never showed you yesterday how to braid puka shells into your hair? We’ll have a makeover session after your visit.”

  Polite Cecilia followed Bart upstairs. Giulia marveled at the transformation.

  Sister Olive returned to her usual self. “Come with me.”

  Giulia followed her down to the cellar, wondering what conspiracy theory evidence was about to be revealed. All the windows broken? Oil-based paint splashed in the washer and dryer? A disheveled teenager tied to the hot water heater?

  The nun stalked to the ragged stack of newspapers. “Look.”

  Two dead rats lay on the floor against the wall.

  Giulia went with the straight line. “You set out powerful rat poison.”

  “We don’t use poison because of Steve. You should know that. We’ve never had a rat in this house. Not even a mouse, because some big, nasty cats roam the neighborhood. Eagle’s thugs planted these dead creatures to scare us out.”

  “How would a saboteur enter the house unnoticed to deposit the rats?”

  “You think this old place is air tight? The windows only latch when they feel like it. The floor only looks solid. If I were twenty years younger, I’d crawl into every dark corner down here. I’d bet you anything I’d find a brand new hole in the foundation or a suspicious mound of dirt between two peeling pieces of Linoleum.”

  Always the professional, Giulia refrained from the obvious comment. The door warden would not appreciate knowing her continual harping on Eagle was having the opposite of its intended effect.

  “Sister Olive.”

  They both turned. Sister Kathryn stood on the bottom step, arms crossed and eyebrows merged into a single disapproving line.

  “I was showing our detective the latest gift from—”

  “We have no proof the rats are connected to anything other than hungry rodents searching for their next meal.”

  “We have circumstantial proof. Have you forgotten our last two break-ins?”

  “Those were perpetrated by drug addicts looking for money.”

  “Addicts don’t target houses like ours on their own.”

  “Olive—”

  “The rats were planted.”

  “If you cannot control your unguarded lips I will place you under a vow of silence.”

  Her subordinate breathed in slowly and heavily. Giulia sympathized with Olive’s inner conflict, as she’d had too many similar conflicts back in the day.

  Olive said a measured voice, “But you keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, and discharge all the duties of your ministry.”

  For one second, Giulia thought the Superior was going to slap the door warden. Her nostrils flared. “Be subject to your masters in everything, try to please them, do not talk back to them.”

  Tension crackled in the air.

  “If you were more interested in listening to what we’re saying instead of hiding behind your brick wall of authority—”

  “If you had any recollection of taking a vow of obedience—”

  “A superior is supposed to look after the welfare of her charges.”

  “Which is exactly what I’ve been doing all these years.”

  “The situation has changed. You’re supposed to adjust with it.”

  “I’ve been adjusting since the day I was appointed Superior of this cross to bear.”

  “Now you’re saying we’re your personal crosses?”

  Giulia walked between them and up the stairs. Much more of this and she’d want to inaugurate DI’s often discussed fifteen percent grief upcharge to the bill, and the nuns couldn’t afford it.

  Bart and Cecilia weren’t in any of the invalid nuns’ rooms, so Giulia climbed to the third floor. She followed the sound of conversation to the spare bedroom and got a snootful of cigarette smoke.

  “Bart, what are you doing?”

  Bart and Cecilia looked up from the bed. Cecilia’s hair had been pulled into a partial braid over one shoulder. Bart’s fingers were on Cecilia’s, threading shells on the loose strands.

  “We’re ornamenting Cecilia’s hair.”

  “Why are you sneaking cigarettes in the presence of a minor?”

  Bart’s baffled expression took Giulia aback. “No one smokes here. It’s too expensive.”

  “Smoking will kill you, Aunt Giulia. Everybody knows that. It tastes gross, too.” Cecilia’s cheeks burned bright red as the words left her mouth.

  Giulia didn’t bother to roll her eyes. “Tried it in the gym locker room to play tough?”

  “Maybe.” A small voice.

  “I tried in fifth grade. It cured me forever.”

  “Third grade for me,” Bart said. “One of my dad’s friends who hung around the gas station let me sneak a puff of an unfiltered Lucky. Disgusting.”

  Cecilia’s eyes and mouth turned into miniature hula hoops.

  Giulia softened. “Nuns are human too.”

  Bart chuckled. “Yes we are. Are you saying you smelled cigarette smoke in the hall or something?”
r />   “Yes. Twice now.”

  “Someone must be smoking outside and it’s blowing through the windows.”

  Cecilia bounced. “Maybe it’s a ghost or something. This is a really old house. Wouldn’t a ghost be cool?”

  “There’s no such thing as ghosts.” Giulia controlled her own urge to blush, since she was parroting Sidney rather than expressing her own thoughts.

  “Who used to live here, Sister Bart?” Cecilia’s voice turned ghoulish. “Maybe there was a murder. Ooh! Maybe there’s a dead body buried in the cellar.”

  Bart finished Cecilia’s braid. “We had the cellar floor fixed a few years ago, but maybe there’s a secret passage we don’t know about.”

  “The ghost could hide in the passage and make scary noises.” Cecilia stood to peer into the tiny mirror next to the dresser. “This is awesome. Thanks, Sister Bart.”

  Bart winked at Giulia. “I could take Steve up into the attic in the middle of the night. Animals are supposed to be able to sense ghosts.”

  “Where is he now?” Cecilia ran to the door. “Aunt Giulia, I don’t smell anything. Do you? Hey, ghost! Come visit us!”

  Giulia glared at Bart. “There is no ghost in this house. Let me prove it to you.” She took out her phone and opened the EMF app.

  “WEEoooWEEoooWeeoooweeooo…”

  Giulia stared at her screen as the jarring sounds faded into silence.

  Cecilia glommed onto Giulia’s arm. “What’s that? What does the noise mean? It sounds like a siren. Is it calling ghosts? Do they answer?”

  Bart approached Giulia’s phone with slow steps. “Is that a ghost-hunting app?”

  Giulia nodded, adjusting the settings. She closed the app, shut off her phone, waited ten seconds, and restarted it. This time when she opened the app, it remained silent.

  “Sorry, Cecilia. No ghosts here. Only electronic interference.”

  Her niece rewarded her with an epic pout. “I’ve never seen a ghost. It would’ve been cool.”

  Twenty-Six

  After dinner, when the kids were all at the kitchen table with their homework, Giulia sprung her latest idea on Frank.

  “The Attorney General’s office?”

  Giulia pecked him on the nose. “You are adorable when you’re mystified. When the current state Attorney General was running for reelection, he investigated Eagle Developers. Either Eagle is more honest than some people think, or they hired phenomenal lawyers. I’m betting on the latter.”

  “Because?”

  “The Attorney General managed to make only one minor infraction stick. If I’ve lived a good life, there will be a disgruntled paralegal who expected to use the Eagle case as their boost up the state ladder. I want to convince this person to help me.”

  Frank’s mouth crimped. “You’re ringing a bell…” He went to his gaming closet. “Have you seen my iPad?”

  She followed him in and pulled it from between Super Mario and The Legend of Zelda. “Have you considered bringing your games into the twenty-first century?”

  He clutched his chest. “You want me to give up my classic discs for a shadow life of online gaming? Never. Old school all the way, baby.”

  She shook her head. “Forget I said anything.”

  He stroked the stacks of jewel cases. “Shh. It’s okay. Don’t listen to her. I’ll spend quality time with you when the kids are in bed.” He looked around the shelves. “Uh, charger?”

  Giulia held up her left hand, cord dangling from her index finger.

  “I’m not worthy.”

  “Far be it from me to argue.”

  He booted the tablet. The homework session became much too loud. Giulia swooped into the kitchen, physically separated Pasquale and Carlo by the hair, cut Cecilia’s smug snarkiness off at the knees,and enlightening each in turn on grammar, algebra, and earth science.

  Several minutes later, Frank said, “Aha.” Half a minute after that: “Oh, really?” In another two minutes: “Could you stop being right all the time?”

  Giulia held an expression of sainted innocence until Frank noticed it.

  “Yes, dear. Okay, because Eagle is a local company, your friendly neighborhood detectives were called to give evidence.”

  “You?” Giulia said.

  “No. I was running DI then. Nash was driving a patrol car and fielded some calls from people Eagle was trying to buy out.”

  Giulia leaned forward. “Could I ask you to ruin his Friday night?”

  Frank gave her the side-eye. “Please. Everyone likes you. My boss still wants you to work for him. Of course Nash will help you.” He opened his phone to call Nash. “Besides, he’s re-grouting his bathroom this weekend. He’ll love the interruption…Nash? Frank. Punched a hole in the tile yet?” He laughed. “Wash your hands and find your laptop, would you? The wife needs a favor.”

  He put the phone on speaker and Giulia explained what she was looking for.

  “That was a couple of years ago. I don’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday.”

  “Two Egg McMuffins and an extra-large coffee with three sugars,” Frank said.

  “Geez, Driscoll, why don’t you just Instagram my life?” Keyboard clicks underscored his words. “Hold on, I’m plowing through my reports.”

  Giulia said, “I really appreciate your help, Nash. Without you, I’d have to wait until Monday to put in a request for the trial transcripts. Who knows how long the bureaucracy would hold it up?”

  “Consider me your personal Freedom of Information Act.” More clicks. “Okay. Two years ago we got a series of complaints about Eagle harassing people who were dragging their heels on his buyout offers.”

  Giulia sat up. “Eagle himself?”

  “I don’t know. One old couple, two old men, and one single mother. They all described a similar pattern of phone calls. They couldn’t prove anything specific against Eagle—the company, not the guy—but when the AG’s office launched its investigation into unethical practices, they were extremely thorough.”

  Giulia wrote bullet points on a smaller sized legal pad. “Marvelous.”

  “Yeah, but you want a contact. I remember half a name. Something like a butler. Jeeves, but not Jeeves. It began with J, though.” Clicks. “Driscoll, our email sort function sucks.”

  “Is this where I say ‘first world problems’?”

  “Screw you. Sorry, Giulia.”

  “Frank has that effect on people.”

  Nash laughed. Frank pulled a ‘sad clown’ face and made Giulia laugh.

  “Nash, he’s pretending to be deeply hurt by our cruel words.”

  “Not even the rawest police academy grad would fall for his act…Here it is. Man, my brain isn’t with it today. Jeremy Butler, assistant to the Attorney General. He was something like third assistant. He got his teeth into the probe like a terrier into a rat.”

  “Please tell me you have his email.”

  “Better than that. I have his cell number. He kept after me for more information so he could leapfrog over assistants one and two.”

  Giulia’s pen hovered over the paper. “Since Eagle emerged with the barest smudge on its reputation, I hope Jeremy Butler is still seething with resentment.”

  Nash spelled out the email and phone number. “He used to call me after hours to dig for more Eagle dirt. The email is part of the public documents. Good thing no one ever wants to read them. Talk about dull.”

  “Nash, you and your girlfriend are invited for sauce and cannolis any Sunday you care to name.”

  Twenty-Seven

  “Aunt Giulia, we’ll clean your house, okay?”

  Giulia stared down at her niece and nephews. “Cecilia, you guys did the breakfast dishes.”

  “Yeah, but you’re, like, wicked busy,” Pasquale said. “Besides, you’re doing all the cooking. Uncle Frank’s getting
the lawn mower from the garage, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Cool. I’ll mow.”

  Carlo said, “Cece, I’ll vacuum if you dust.”

  “Okay, I’ll start the laundry.”

  They scattered. Frank came through from the garage a minute later.

  “The free labor is an unexpected benefit. Easiest Saturday morning I’ve had in awhile.”

  “I’d still rather start with one offspring at a time.” Giulia picked up her notes from last night’s phone call. “I’m off to cajole an attorney.”

  She closed herself in their bedroom and dialed the former third assistant to the Attorney General.

  “Butler speaking.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Butler. I’m calling on behalf of Driscoll Investigations.”

  “I don’t represent wife beaters, child abusers, or people who think the Spice Girls have more talent than The Supremes. You have five minutes.”

  Giulia chose her words to trigger the maximum knee-jerk response. “Our client may be the target of systematic harassment by Eagle Developers as part of a neighborhood redevelopment project.”

  The tenor voice on the other end cast doubt upon Eagle’s parentage, Eagle’s manly parts, and the microscopic dimensions of Eagle’s principles.

  Giulia waited for him to run down. “Mr. Butler, I’d like to meet with you to pick your brain about Eagle Developers.”

  “You think a rinky-dink private detective agency can bring him down when the AG’s office couldn’t?”

  Giulia remembered that she had yet to meet a lawyer who didn’t irritate her worse than a case of poison ivy. “Mr. Butler, are you available to—”

  “Hell, yes. What time is it? Nine thirty? Let me check my calendar. Oh, wait, it’s Saturday. How soon can you get here? Where are you?”

  “Cottonwood.”