Nun After the Other

by Alice Loweecey

  Kanning said “Poltergeist” for his viewers.

  Florence shouted, “I am not a cheap circus act!” and snatched up the crucifix. Giulia ripped it from her hands.

  Pit Bull said, “Ken,” low and sharp.

  Kanning took in the eighteen-inch painted and gilded wood figure in Giulia’s hands again. He looked over at his cameraman.

  “I saw it but I couldn’t turn the camera in time,” Pit Bull said. “Swear to God, it jumped off the table on its own and Giulia grabbed it in midair.”

  “I’ll make them respect me,” Florence said through clenched teeth. The wooden chairs began to rock themselves in a conga line toward Kanning.

  Kanning repeated one of the seven words which can’t be said on television, with an adjective attached. Several times. Giulia’s irrelevant thought of the moment: Someone else likes Cecilia’s favorite expression.

  Bangs and bumps came from the door. Grumbling words followed. The chairs lurched closer to The Scoop. The front half of Eugenie’s wheelchair wedged itself in the doorframe. After a last extended squeak, Eugenie squeezed her chair through.

  “I did it,” she announced.

  Seventy-Five

  The chairs took five. Pit Bull swung his camera toward the door. Sister Kathryn loomed behind Eugenie like a scytheless grim reaper. Wails from Sister Agatha invaded the sudden silence.

  Giulia confronted Eugenie as though The Scoop didn’t exist. “Did you kill Victor Eagle?”

  If Eugenie had been Mrs. Santa Claus herself, her expression couldn’t have been more comical. “Of course not. What kind of a Franciscan do you think I am?”

  Florence laughed. Giulia steeled herself not to turn toward the ghost. “Then what are you accusing yourself of?”

  Eugenie looked over her shoulder at the Superior. Kathryn’s posture remained that of Harbinger of Doom. Eugenie shrank into herself. “I sabotaged the gas line in the basement.”

  “Why?”

  “We love this house. It’s ours. No one ever wanted it besides us. When Eagle started to terrorize us, I tried and tried to think of a way to make him change his mind.” Her words came slower and slower, a guilt-ridden sinner dragged against her will to the confessional. “I don’t know when the idea about the gas line came into my head.”

  Florence chuckled in Giulia’s ear.

  “The more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a great idea. It wouldn’t be dangerous because someone’s always in the house. Dorothy or Olive would smell the gas and call 911.”

  Giulia crossed her arms. “What on earth were you expecting the outcome to be?”

  Pit Bull came into her peripheral vision. If Giulia had been more enslaved to vanity, she would’ve wondered if her makeup was fresh enough for the camera. The last thing she’d expected to be doing when she woke up this morning was providing footage for The Scoop.

  Eugenie glanced at Kathryn again and slumped deeper in her wheelchair. “We’d make Eagle leave us alone. The gas leak would make the news because of all the emergency responders and the reporters would come up with a sound bite about how unstable old houses are. Eagle would see the news and change its mind about buying our house.”

  Barbara Beech pushed past Kathryn and elbowed Giulia aside. “You are a waste of oxygen. Haven’t you paid attention to anything about what we’re doing in this town?”

  Giulia could feel Ken Kanning’s aura shivering with ratings-anticipation glee. If auras existed. She absolutely was not going to turn around to see. She’d seen more than enough insubstantial things for one day. No, for one month.

  Eugenie regained some of her bombast. “You? You’re destroying graceful historic architecture and replacing it with hideous boxes. You don’t care about preserving the past. All you want is to shove everything old into a dumpster.”

  Beech glanced sideways at Pit Bull’s camera. “Listen to me, you hidebound old woman. Eagle Developers blends the best of the old with the best of the new. For the project involving these two blocks in particular, we’re preserving some of the façades as a bridge between the old and the new.”

  “While throwing poor people out into the street.”

  “We’ve done nothing of the sort. Everyone received a fair market value buyout. Everyone including you Sisters.”

  Eugenie pushed herself up with her arms. “Fair? What was fair about terrorizing us for months? You sent the rats. You sent the teenagers. You hired people to plaster our windows with pornography. When we wouldn’t give in your boss finally did his own dirty work and tried to burn us in our beds. You’re nothing but criminals in suits and ties.”

  Beech’s belligerent expression melted into bafflement. “What are you talking about?”

  Florence cackled. “The fat man dressed in a cat burglar costume was the funniest act I’ve seen in decades. I wasn’t about to allow him to burn down my house. Once the chemicals in his bottle combined, I shortened the reaction time. Duck soup.”

  Pit Bull pulled the viewfinder away from his eye and checked the settings. He shook his head and resettled the camera on his shoulder.

  Frank and Nash stepped without a sound into the hall behind Kathryn.

  “Are you responsible for the gas leak?” Giulia said to Florence. Not quietly enough, because Eugenie bristled.

  “I already said the gas leak was my fault.”

  “How did you get downstairs?” Giulia raised her voice enough for Frank to take notice.

  Eugenie patted her ample legs. “I have a few surprises left in me.”

  “I’m asking for specifics.”

  The not-so-infirm nun made a face at Giulia. “If you must know, these old legs still have a little muscle strength. Sometimes I walk a few steps in my room late at night when I can’t sleep. When I decided to make one last effort to save our home, I listened for when everyone was busy, then I scooted on my heinie down the stairs to the first floor and down to the cellar.” She swelled with pride. “I walked ten entire steps across the cellar floor to get to the gas pipe.”

  Florence danced between Pit Bull and Eugenie, pirouetting around the wheelchair and singing. “Take me down to the cellar, Take me to the gas pipe; Unhook the pipe from the thingamabob, Whoops! You’re too fat to finish the job.”

  Pit Bull stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it. “Ken, I’m picking up something weird.”

  “Why gas?” Giulia aimed the question at Florence, but made it appear she asked it of Eugenie.

  “I whispered in her ear night after night,” Florence said. “I told her it was dramatic.”

  “It was dramatic and attention-getting,” Eugenie said.

  “Everyone panics when they smell a gas leak,” Florence said. “Oh, no! One little spark and the whole place will explode.” She produced a cigarette. “I’m the only one in the house who smokes.”

  “The burners on the kitchen stove have electronic pilot light igniters.”

  Eugenie and Florence shared the same dumbfounded expression.

  “I forgot,” they said together.

  “What the hell?” Pit Bull balanced his camera on one knee and poked every button on it.

  Ken Kanning came over to him. “Keep recording,” he hissed. “This is gold.”

  “I’m getting echoes, and I swore I heard someone singing a minute ago.”

  “Probably a radio. Forget it. Keep filming.”

  Beech beckoned Giulia and Kathryn over by the door. “We need to talk.”

  Seventy-Six

  With her phone held out, Beech stood between Giulia and Kathryn.

  “The nun in the wheelchair has accused our company of unethical business practices. I won’t let such an accusation stand without a challenge, so I logged into our company’s system.” She gestured to the screen. “Even I don’t want to read this Lilliputian document. Could someone go downstairs for my briefcase? My laptop
is in it.”

  “Got it,” Nash said.

  Beech started. “Who are you?”

  Frank held out his hand, “Detective Driscoll, Ms. Beech.”

  Nash pounded up the stairs, not the least bit out of breath. “Detective VanHorne, Ms. Beech. Here you go.” He handed her the briefcase.

  “Fine. You can witness the exoneration of Eagle Developers in your official capacity.” She sat on the rug in her crisp business suit and booted her laptop. “Is that scandal monger busy elsewhere?”

  Giulia glanced up. “He and Pit Bull are focused on their camera.”

  “Pee-yew.” Florence pinched her nostrils closed. “That was a stinker of a pun.”

  Giulia ignored her.

  Beech typed. “Victor and I were partners for years, but he was never able to let go of his lone wolf mindset. Now that I’m in charge, I accessed his private login on the company system.”

  “His password was easy to break?”

  A proud smile flitted across her mouth. “It was not. I’m good.” She looked up from the keyboard. “As an instant karma hit for bragging on myself, let me amend. After getting in, I accessed only one-third of his files before I ran into a roadblock the size of the Empire State Building. I’ve been working on the block for thirty-six hours.”

  Beneath the other floor lamp, Kanning and Pit Bull stuck ear buds in their ears and replayed footage on the camera’s viewing screen.

  A spreadsheet filled Beech’s laptop screen. “This is what I was trying to show you on my phone. It’s one of Victor’s private schemes. Poor word choice, but you can see why.”

  The four-column spreadsheet listed dates, names, dollar amounts, and an alpha-numeric code.

  “The project for which each person was hired?” Giulia pointed to the fourth column.

  Beech nodded. “They must be. I haven’t yet discovered the key to the code. I’ve promised myself a bottle of my favorite Prosecco when I crack it and I intend to pop the cork on the bottle tonight.” She opened several different files. “No one, not even a nun old enough to be my grandmother, is going to tarnish our reputation.” She eyed Kanning. “Let’s make it a house party. Victor always said there’s no such thing as bad publicity.” She raised her voice. “Hey, The Scoop. Come here, please.”

  Kanning dropped the ear buds and palmed the microphone in the two seconds it took him to squat next to her. “In three…two…one.”

  Frank and Nash faded back into the hall before the camera shone its light on the group around the laptop.

  “Scoopers, I’m happy to re-introduce Ms. Barbara Beech of Eagle Developers. We’re waiting with bated breath for the news she’s just promised us. Hope you’re still sitting down.”

  Beech smiled for the camera. “Eagle Developers is always pleased to connect with the residents of the greater Pittsburgh area. The Scoop is giving us a helping hand tonight to dispel some nasty rumors which have reached our offices.”

  Florence said, “She’s good, if you like people who live to pull the wool over your eyes.” She floated next to Pit Bull and tickled his chin. “This one is a dandy.”

  Pit Bull balanced the camera one-handed and scratched his chin with the other. Florence giggled. “I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”

  Giulia spared a moment’s attention to hope Florence was still on her best behavior—for her—because of the holy water incident. Now if it would only last until The Scoop left the building.

  “Kanning, you’ll be able to edit out this backstory. I’m working on opening some files our deceased owner put passwords on. As soon as I figure out the access code word, I’ll continue my explanation.”

  “Ms. Beech, we’ve already started a Scoop episode on Eagle.”

  “I know. You didn’t think we were focused on success to the exclusion of everything else, did you?” Her sweet smile rang false. “You will not film my screen. Tomorrow morning I’ll provide you with an expurgated version, the kind we use in presentations.”

  Kanning oozed charm. “The Scoop would never expect you to reveal proprietary information.”

  “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Her eyes opened wide. “Wait a second…yes…yes…no, that’s the wrong letter. Wait one more minute…Yes.” She preened. “I’m better than good. All right, the files I’ve unlocked in your presence have not been previewed by me, so be prepared for me to shut this interview down without warning. Ready?” A pause for an adjustment to her suit jacket. “In three…two…one.” A rearrangement of her smile. “Who better to be here at the reveal of startling information than our home-grown masters of the exposé?” She waved him in.

  Pit Bull said, “The angle’s not good. Could you turn ninety degrees left?”

  As one, everyone on the floor crab-walked a quarter turn. The door was now to the left and their backs were now to the wall where the crucifix used to hang. Giulia eyed the possible angles of sight and gave up on trying to see the opened files while keeping out of the shot.

  “I’m opening the first folder now.” Her double-click revealed several spreadsheets and Word documents, all with cryptic eight-character names. “This one shares a familiar character string.” She opened a spreadsheet with the same four columns as the earlier one. “I spy with my professional eye, a bright yellow comment triangle in the corners of these cells. Viewers of The Scoop, Eagle Developers is about to unearth proof of our honorable business practices in real time.”

  She clicked.

  Seventy-Seven

  The comment field held a screencap of a handwritten memo. Beech read out loud:

  “July 31, contacted Fagin re: Baker St. Irregulars. Will perform usu. symphony for nuns.”

  Beech frowned and clicked the triangle in the cell below.

  “September 5, new Irregular too enthusiastic, solo effort slayed audience of one. May turn to our favor. Fagin will resolve.”

  Florence’s head popped through the laptop screen. “Was this man never taught not to mix metaphors?”

  Giulia jerked her head to one side, trying to give Florence a hint to get out of the way of the documents. In response, Florence stuck both hands through the screen and mimed the appearance of someone in the stocks. Giulia saw she could read through her. The answer clicked into place. It clicked for Kanning as well. His quiet exclamation would have been bleeped out of his own broadcast.

  Beech, for all her code-breaking skills, still scowled at the screen as she clicked another comment triangle. Kanning snapped his fingers without sound. Pit Bull’s lens zoomed in on Beech’s face. A second later he detached his eye from the viewfinder. He adjusted the focus on the screen. Looked through the viewfinder again. At the screen again.

  Florence rotated her head completely around like an owl and blew him a kiss.

  Beech opened and closed three comments in rapid succession. Over her shoulder, Giulia read them as fast as they opened:

  Fagin delegated housewarming project.

  If you want something done right, you do it yourself.

  Will prove to Babs I haven’t lost my touch.

  Giulia rejoiced—on the inside. Agatha hadn’t surprised revelations from Beech, but the CEO had given Giulia what she needed despite herself. Victor Eagle pandered to his own ego by carrying out the bit of terrorism he’d been sure would force the nuns out.

  “Stop.” She knelt next to Beech. “Do you understand the names and titles Victor Eagle used in these notes?”

  “No. They’re out of books, aren’t they? I’m not much of a reader.”

  “Ignoramus,” Florence said.

  Giulia pointed to the first comment. Florence grasped her index finger as though to shake it, but she passed through Giulia like she’d passed through the laptop. The ghost’s semi-solid appearance was just that—an appearance. Giulia thought: Is my strength of will stronger than the will of a hundred-year-old ghost?
/>   “Fagin,” she said to Beech, “runs a gang of juvenile criminals in Oliver Twist. The Baker Street Irregulars are a group of street kids Sherlock Holmes pays to trail people and gather information.”

  Beech slammed the laptop shut. Florence’s head blooped through it and re-formed itself. She glared at Beech.

  Frank stepped into the chapel. “Ms. Beech, we’d like you to come to the precinct with us to answer a few questions.”

  Seventy-Eight

  Pit Bull backed away to include Frank and Kathryn in the shot. Panic rippled across Beech’s face before she schooled it into submission.

  “I don’t see what interest private memos from my former CEO can have for the police.”

  Frank’s face remained impassive. “A young man in our custody has given up the name of his off-the-books employer.”

  Kathryn broke the silence. “Then Victor Eagle was behind the harassment to get us to sell the house. I’ll never hear the end of this from Olive.”

  “I knew it! I knew it!” Eugenie aimed both index fingers at Beech as though she was poking out the woman’s eyes. “It’s a good thing you didn’t crawl through our window. You’re skinny enough to have made it inside with that bomb.”

  Whatever Beech might have replied to this was lost in the Wrath of Florence. The new light bulbs exploded. The Bible flipped into the air and its pages erupted into confetti. The window blinds twisted and splintered.

  Frank pushed Kathryn into the hall. Nash spun Eugenie’s wheelchair and wheeled her out next to Kathryn. Bart hovered open-mouthed in the doorway. Pit Bull’s camera tried to capture six angles at once.

  “Scoopers, are you seeing this? We have Cottonwood’s first genuine poltergeist action caught on video. We’ve scooped every network. You’re our witnesses.”

  While Kanning stood his ground in the midst of the ghost’s hurricane of various missiles, Giulia stuck her fingers in her ears in an unsuccessful attempt to muffle Florence’s HULK SMASH hysteria.