Nun After the Other

by Alice Loweecey

  “Sister Agatha,” Dorothy’s voice was soothing, “the house is busy right now. Maybe if we—”

  “Bring Clarence. Bring Clarence. Bring Clarence.” The voice ratcheted up and up with each repetition. “Bring Clarence. Bring Clarence.”

  Dorothy looked helplessly at Giulia. “Do you know who she means?”

  Giulia nodded and raised her voice over the invalid’s bawls. “I’ll call him.”

  She took refuge in Eugenie’s empty room. “Pit Bull, it’s Giulia Driscoll. Sister Agatha is having a lucid episode and is screaming for you.”

  “Look, Giulia—sorry, I meant Ms. Driscoll—I’m in the middle of edits for tomorrow’s show.”

  If there were any buttons Giulia knew how to push, those buttons belonged to Catholic school survivors.

  “Your desire to help was ephemeral, then.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just, my job requires odd hours.”

  “I see.”

  “Ms. Driscoll, I’d like to help, I really would, but we’re under deadline.”

  She walked back to Sister Agatha’s room. The instant the old nun saw her, she resumed her demand at the high decibel she’d left off at. Giulia put her phone on speaker.

  “Bring Clarence. Bring Clarence. Bring Clarence.”

  Pit Bull’s voice couldn’t compete with Agatha’s. “Son of a—” He cleared his throat in a burst of static. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Sixty-Six

  Giulia left it to Sister Dorothy to calm her patient while she climbed to the attic. The small round windows at the front and back of the house were open. The air smelled only of dust.

  “Florence.”

  And cigarette smoke.

  “You came back. You have more spine than I expected.” The Gibson Girl floated a good eighteen inches off the floor.

  “Please stand closer to the floor. I’ll get a crick in my neck.”

  “I don’t stand, I waft. I’m the sylph of the afterlife.”

  Giulia didn’t have time for posturing. “Did you try to kill Sister Eugenie?”

  The ghost sank to the floor so fast Giulia’s ears added a thump when it “landed.”

  “What kind of monster do you think I am?”

  “You’re dodging the question.”

  Florence rolled her misty eyes. “No, I did not try to kill that old besom. It isn’t my fault her fat fingers couldn’t properly manipulate something as simple as a rusty pipe.”

  “How did you carry her downstairs?”

  Florence’s laugh was as unpleasant as her habit of blowing cigarette smoke in Giulia’s face. “You have one thing in common with these useless virgins. You’re too trusting.”

  Giulia chewed the inside of her lip. “She could walk but chose to live in a wheelchair?”

  “Close. She likes secrets and she likes being waited on. If her voice didn’t grate on my undead ears like nails on a blackboard, I’d almost admire her gumption. Today for some reason known only to her greedy little brain, she bestirred herself enough to bump down the stairs on her ample behind while clutching the railings for dear life.” Another snide laugh. “Nice of her to give me a little entertainment. When she reached the cellar floor she was so pleased with herself she managed to lurch across the room like a toddler taking its first steps.”

  “A human being’s brush with death is not your personal command performance. Emergency personnel are downstairs trying to clear the poison from Eugenie’s lungs.”

  “I saw. Whoo, did her puke stink.”

  “Vomiting is the issue, not the accompanying stench. She caused a dangerous gas leak.”

  “Oh, stop preaching. She’ll be fine. She’s a lot healthier than she pretends.”

  Giulia’s phone rang. “Yes, Pit Bull?”

  “I’m outside. The place is barricaded by cops. Can you escort me in?”

  “Go around to the back door please, like you did last time. I’ll meet you.”

  Florence clapped, the omnipresent cigarette disappearing while she did so. “The tattooed cameraman is here? He’s worth looking at, let me tell you.” She vanished.

  The sound Giulia made could best be described as “Aaarrgh.” She avoided the exiting firefighters and police officers on her way to the kitchen. Steve apparently considered her one of the household by this time, because she heard his nails tick-tack-tick-tack on the floor behind her.

  She opened the door on Ken Kanning.

  Steve saved her from tarnishing her “never caught off guard” reputation by limping into his “injured puppy” act. He squeezed between Giulia’s ankles, one paw raised. When he lifted his head all the way up to Kanning’s six-foot height, his brown eyes somehow became bigger. His whimper should’ve earned him a nomination for Best Supporting Actor. Eugenie was a lock for Best Actor.

  Kanning’s show business moxie was no match for Scenery-Chewing Steve. The face of The Scoop squatted on the doorsill and relinquished his carefully crafted image.

  “Oh, you poor puppy. What happened to your paw? You want some skritches? On your ears? Yes, you do.” He rubbed the dog’s bat ears until Steve’s eyes closed in ecstasy. “Who’s a good boy? You’re a good boy, yes you are.”

  Pit Bull had stepped to one side and turned on the camera.

  Giulia cleared her throat. “Mr. Kanning, please come in.”

  Without a shred of embarrassment, Kanning got to his feet. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. Driscoll.”

  He stepped over the threshold. Steve shook himself all over and trotted over to his blanket on his four healthy legs.

  Kanning’s jaw dropped. On him the look was a good one, revealing capped teeth and showcasing the dimple in his chin. “Why, you shivery little weasel.”

  Pit Bull crossed the threshold, camera down. “Ms. Driscoll, what’s with the fire truck and ambulance and police?”

  Kanning snapped back into The Scoop mode so fast Giulia feared for his neck alignment. “Bull.”

  The camera was up and recording again. Kanning donned his “serious news” face.

  “It’s an average Tuesday night in Cottonwood. Families are finishing the evening meal. Children are playing fetch with their dogs.” His eyes glanced down to Steve chewing a rawhide bone. The camera followed him. “Yet pandemonium is happening behind the doors of one charming old house on a quiet residential street.” His serious face switched off. “Okay, Ms. Driscoll, your turn.”

  Giulia indicated the camera with her eyes, glancing up at Pit Bull, then over to his shoulder. He lowered the camera and she said to him, “Are you two joined at the hip?”

  Sixty-Seven

  Pit Bull shrugged. “We were together in the studio when you called.”

  Giulia frosted him. “I repeat my question.”

  Kanning invaded her personal space once more. “We’re all in this one together. You, me, Bull. The Scoop will prevent Eagle’s surviving henchmen from giving these nuns a raw deal.”

  “Mr. Kanning, I assure you if Driscoll Investigations ever again has need of The Scoop, we will not resort to subterfuge as a means of contact.”

  Kanning showed all his perfect teeth. “Don’t call us; we’ll call you, is that it? Well, you called Bull.”

  “Indeed. I contacted Mr. Bull.”

  “The Scoop is a well-oiled machine, Ms. Driscoll. You know this from experience.” He placed a hand on Pit Bull’s shoulder. “When you talk to Bull, you talk to both of us.”

  Pit Bull maneuvered his head a quarter turn away from Kanning’s line of sight. With the right side of his face only, he made extravagant grimaces at Giulia.

  She didn’t need Jasper’s clairvoyant skills to interpret Pit Bull’s message: “I don’t tell him everything. Believe me.”

  “Mr. Kanning, I disagree with your interpretation of my phone call tonight. However, as yo
u have attached yourself to your cameraman, you may be of use to us.” She said to Pit Bull, “If you’ll follow me upstairs I’ll take you to Sister Agatha.”

  “What’s up with her?”

  “We aren’t sure. With all the commotion in the house you’d think she’d be worse. But at one of those odd moments of silence, we realized she’d stopped moaning.”

  “The twenty-minute lull,” Kanning said from the end of the line. “You know, the phenomenon that in crowded rooms, everyone will stop talking at twenty past the hour. I still want to do an April Fool’s Day show on it.”

  Dorothy came out of Helena’s room as Giulia reached the second floor. “She slipped back for a few minutes, but now she’s calling for Clarence again.” She pointed at Pit Bull. “You’re Clarence. I remember now. I’ll be in her room with you in a minute. Sister Helena needs meds.”

  Giulia knocked on Agatha’s open door. “We brought Clarence to visit you.”

  The pale eyes moved from their focus on the sky through the open window. The head with its scraggly gray hair turned a second later, as though the eyes pulled it along. The mouth opened as though to begin wailing again.

  “Clarence.”

  The cameraman entered the room, equipment low at his side. “I’m here, Sister.”

  “Repeat the prayer I taught you.”

  He set the camera on the floor. “Which prayer, Sister?”

  The nun attempted to raise herself on one elbow. Giulia ducked in front of Pit Bull and sat at the head of the bed. She put one arm behind the invalid and with an effort half-raised her so she leaned against Giulia’s side.

  “The prayer for the souls in Purgatory. Say it now.” A ghost of bygone authority echoed in the last three words.

  Pit Bull’s expression was one Giulia had seen many times from the orchestra pit at the Cottonwood Community Theater: The actor who’d forgotten his lines. A moment later his mouth opened and the old-fashioned rote prayer came out.

  “Eternal Father, I offer Thee the Most Precious Blood of Thy Divine Son, Jesus, in union with the masses said throughout the world today, for all the holy souls in Purgatory, for sinners everywhere, for sinners…uh…in the universal church, those in my own home and within my family.” After a beat he added, “Amen.”

  A film of flop-sweat formed on the crown of his shaved head. Giulia had seen actors’ memory come to the rescue almost as many times.

  Instead of approving her former pupil, Agatha pushed against Giulia to gain another inch of verticality. “You have been neglecting your duties. I taught you to pray St. Gertrude’s prayer every single day. How many days did you choose laziness over releasing souls from Purgatory?” Her finger aimed at his heart.

  Pit Bull’s head blossomed cranberry. “Well, Sister, you see…”

  But the nun had fallen onto Giulia, her eyes closed again.

  “Bull, where the hell’s your spine?” Ken Kanning’s voice held surprise and disdain. “I’ve never seen you cave in front of authority.”

  “Shut up, Ken,” Pit Bull’s hissing retort spoke more of kids on a midnight kitchen expedition trying not to wake up Mom than of anger.

  Giulia was considering whether to lay her burden onto the pillow when Dorothy said from the doorway, “How is she?”

  “I am talking to Clarence.” The voice was clear. “Responsible.” The eyes opened and found Pit Bull. “You are responsible.”

  He looked over her head at Giulia. When she mouthed, “No idea,” he met the nun’s unclouded gaze. “Responsible for what, Sister?”

  “You were a bright student. You see what’s happening in this house.” Her lower lip cracked and a bead of blood formed in its center.

  Dorothy left and returned with a cup of water and a tissue. She dabbed at the blood and held the water to Agatha’s dry lips.

  “He was punished. She is in torment. He is in torment. Through their fault, through their fault, through their most grievous fault.”

  Giulia said, “What did he do? What did she do?”

  Agatha was silent so long Giulia started to ease her flat onto the bed, sure she’d missed an opportunity in the short lucid interval.

  “All must pray!”

  Giulia started. Agatha’s eyes swiveled up to reproach her. Giulia resettled the nun in a more comfortable position.

  Pit Bull knelt by the bed. “Pray for what? Pray for who?”

  Giulia added, “Why did she do it?” without being certain who “she” was, but if Pit Bull could make the clearheaded spell last a few minutes longer she might get an edge on the ghost.

  Agatha began mumbling. Giulia and Pit Bull leaned over her. Giulia caught the second sentence of the Purgatory prayer Agatha had made Pit Bull recite. She looked up at Dorothy and shook her head.

  Dorothy made a resigned gesture. “She’ll go into default mode now.”

  This time Giulia succeeded in laying the old nun flat on her bed. Dorothy straightened the covers. Pit Bull picked up his camera. Ken Kanning tested teaser lines for one of The Scoop’s promotion clips.

  “Not even women of the cloth…No. In a world where nothing is sacred…Maybe. Bull, let’s try a few by the stairs.”

  Quiet versions of Agatha’s usual groans punctuated Kanning’s “build up the excitement” voice.

  “Mr. Clarence.” Dorothy called after him.

  Pit Bull returned to the doorway.

  “She’s not following her usual pattern. I think she’s going to open her eyes again. Would you mind staying here for a little while longer?”

  This time his boss urged him on. “Go on. Get it over with so we can get back to work.”

  Setting down the camera once more, Pit Bull walked the two steps to the bedside and stood looking down at the wreck of his sixth-grade teacher. From her place at the head of the bed, Giulia watched impatience, guilt, sorrow, and frustration chase themselves across his face.

  “Wake up, you old biddy,” he muttered. “You used to be a fighter. Stop trashing my only good childhood memory.”

  The moans kept their expected pace for another minute by Giulia’s phone clock. At its expiration, they stopped like someone pressed her Off button. Giulia snapped a photo.

  “Clarence, yes.” Her voice was hoarse but intelligible. “Barbara, yes. Jane, no. Jennifer, no. Bruce, no.” One eye peeled itself open. “You two are the only ones left. The task falls to you.”

  “What task? Stop talking in riddles.”

  Her hand darted out from under the covers and aimed a slap at Pit Bull. “Respect, young man.” The abrupt gesture sapped the last of her energy. Her head fell back on the pillow and her mouth opened. Instead of a moan, she began to snore.

  “Jesus Christ.” Pit Bull stalked out of the room, picking up his camera on the way. “Come on, Ken.”

  Giulia said to Dorothy, “Has she ever mentioned any of those names before?”

  “No. This is the most she’s spoken since last Christmas. They could be former students.”

  “Associations from seeing Pit Bull again. Thank you.” Giulia strode into the hall.

  The Scoop blocked the stairs. Kanning straddled the third step. Pit Bull balanced on the newel and angled the camera down at him.

  “We can do a lot with this shot, Ken. The light’s good and creepy.”

  Sixty-Eight

  On the main floor, Giulia tried the front parlor first. The EMTs were gone. Eugenie had been moved to the couch on a clean blanket with two more blankets covering her. Her snores rivaled Agatha’s.

  Kathryn sat at the kitchen table drinking from a mug. As Giulia approached the table, the back door closed on Olive and Steve.

  Giulia pulled out the chair next to the Superior. “I expected Eugenie to be headed to the hospital.”

  Kathryn pinched the bridge of her nose. “She refused. I started to order her to go, but the medic
al personnel got skittish. I’m not a relation and she doesn’t have a health care proxy. Then she surprised us all again by sitting up. She apologized for vomiting and recited her name, address, and the list of her meds with their correct dosages. Then she demanded something to drink. The medical tech put her through more tests with her giving them attitude throughout. Finally they said they couldn’t force her to come with them and advised plain water and clear broth for twenty-four hours.” She sipped from her mug. “And she still refuses to tell anyone but her Confessor why she went into the cellar. So here we are. One big happy family.”

  Giulia indicated the mug. “The long-delayed tea?”

  “I’d add brandy, but not while we have guests.” She made a move toward the stove. “Can I make you a cup?”

  “Thank you, no. You need to stay off your feet for ten minutes. I want to talk about the buyout.”

  Kathryn dropped her forehead onto her hand. “I never want to hear about Eagle Developers again.”

  “I’m your fairy godmother.” Giulia opened her phone. “The new head of Eagle called me with their latest offer. It’s two thousand more than the minimum I was willing to settle for. The money is enough to move everyone into a house in a decent part of town. There may even be a few dollars to spare to stock the wine shelves.” She typed the figure into her calculator function in case Kathryn required a visual to push her from hesitation to decision.

  “That much? Really?”

  “Really. I strongly advise you to take it.”

  Kathryn sipped her tea while her gaze stayed on the phone screen. Giulia gave her time. The kitchen clock ticked. A series of excited yips came closer and closer. The Chihuahua squeezed through the door as soon as Olive opened it a crack.

  “Go to your blanket.” Olive stamped her foot and pointed. “Now.”

  Tail between his short legs, Steve slunk to his bed by the refrigerator.

  Kathryn said in a weary voice, “What did he do?”

  “He imitated the goofy dog in Up.” Olive rubbed her right shoulder.

  “Squirrel!” Giulia murmured.