Nun After the Other

by Alice Loweecey

  “You gibfaced ratbag! You damaged my house! I’ll make you pay! You’ll never get my house! My house! Mine! Forever! I’ll haunt you! I’ll torment you! I’ll—I’ll—burn you alive!”

  Florence stopped. The confetti drifted to the floor. The remains of the light bulbs sparked and sputtered. Giulia unplugged her ears, not that it made any difference either way. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. Barbara Beech, the center of the chaos, cowered on the rug clutching her laptop against her like a shield.

  Standing over her in twisted glee, Florence snapped her left thumbnail against her left middle nail in her “striking a match” gesture. Giulia yanked out her flask as flames appeared on the tips of all five of Florence’s fingers.

  “Holy shit,” came from Kanning and Pit Bull together.

  Giulia flung holy water at the flames. “Ímperat tíbi majéstas Chrísti!” They vanished with a unified hiss.

  “Scoopers, you saw it. We saw it. Flames in midair. Nothing supporting them. Five of them, like fingertips.”

  Beech wiped her laptop with the corner of her jacket. “What kind of joke are you pulling, Ms. Driscoll? My Mac isn’t waterproof.”

  “What’s on fire?” Olive said.

  “Bart, get the fire extinguisher,” Kathryn said.

  “Someone wheel me downstairs,” Eugenie said. “I’m not going to die in this rat trap.”

  Giulia turned toward the press of bodies in the doorway. “Bart, forget the fire extinguisher. Bring salt and sage and a box of matches from the kitchen. We’re cleansing this house.”

  Pit Bull pushed the camera into Kanning’s arms. “Giulia, you just said ‘The power of Christ commands’ you, right? That’s from the rite of exorcism.”

  “Bull, get back behind this camera.”

  “In a minute, Ken. Giulia? Tell me what I’ve been seeing and hearing for the past hour.”

  Florence walked through Beech, who didn’t even shiver, then wedged herself between Giulia and Pit Bull. He took a step back, looking like he didn’t understand why he moved.

  “What are you going to do?” Florence clutched her hands together.

  “I’m banishing the ghost from this house.” Giulia spoke to Pit Bull, but the relative heights of the living and dead made it seem as though she was talking to Florence.

  Florence bought it. “No! You can’t force me out of my own house.”

  “Watch me.”

  Kanning hoisted the camera into position. “Scoopers, you’re seeing the other half of The Scoop right now. Pit Bull, my intrepid chronicler, is conferring with Giulia Driscoll about the incredible events happening in this chapel tonight.”

  Florence dived for the crucifix, hidden under a snowdrift of shredded Bible pages. She swung it at Giulia like it was a baseball bat. Giulia blocked it with both hands. Pit Bull grabbed it.

  “Further proof we have a real, live ghost and it watches Pirates games, Scoopers! Did you see that swing? It would’ve been a home run for sure, without the perfect double play between the multi-talented Giulia Driscoll and our own Pit Bull.” He fiddled with the controls. “Dammit, Bull, where’s the zoom on this thing?”

  “Bottom left, second button in. Giulia, where’s the ghost right now?”

  Bart ran up to them with a canister of Morton’s, a small plastic jar of McCormick sage, and a glass bowl. “This is all we have. Is it okay?”

  “Perfect. Herd everyone into the hall. You, too. The Scoop too, please. Pit Bull, I know I can’t stop you from filming so I won’t try.”

  “But—” Bart said.

  “But—” Pit Bull said.

  “What are you talking about?” Kanning said.

  Frank barged between Giulia and Bart. “Tell me what to do.”

  Giulia shook her head. “This is my fight.”

  He pushed his forehead against hers. “Not when something’s attacking my wife.”

  She put her finger on his lips. “I’ve got this. It has to be a solo victory or word will get around in the ghost community. Our new business venture will collapse and where will Zlatan’s college fund come from?”

  He didn’t smile.

  “I have to press my advantage now.”

  He turned on his heel and joined Bart as she performed her sheepdog duties. Giulia poured a wide line of salt across the threshold. “No one cross this.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Florence said. “You’re not stronger than me. I can turn anything in this room into a murder weapon. I’ll suffocate you with cigarette smoke. Watch me.”

  She created and lit two cigarettes at once. Clouds of smoke swirled around her and billowed through the room.

  Kanning’s breathless narration increased in volume. Giulia ignored it. She walked into the heart of the cigarette fumes and drew a circle of salt around Florence.

  “No!” the ghost wailed. The Bible confetti joined the smoke, creating a blinding whirlwind.

  Giulia dumped the sage into the bowl and dropped a lit match into the dried leaves. They ignited. A fragrant line of smoke rose from the burning herb. It knifed through the ghost’s cloud, overpowering the cigarette stench.

  “Now,” Giulia said.

  Seventy-Nine

  Florence caved.

  “No. No, please. Please don’t kick me out of my house. It’s all I have.” She dropped to her knees and clutched Giulia’s waist. “I’m alone here. I don’t even have my baby with me. Think of you and your baby. Please.”

  Giulia held the bowl toward the nearest corner.

  “No! Wait!” The ghost unlatched one hand and waved it at the doorway. “Bring that Eagle woman in here. We can compromise.”

  Giulia didn’t lower the bowl, but she did acknowledge Florence’s existence.

  “I mean it. I’m an adult. I can cooperate. You can trust me.”

  Giulia raised her eyebrows.

  “No tricks, I promise. I’m no welsher.”

  “You’re also old enough not to use bigoted expressions.” She lowered the bowl and beckoned to the crowd packed into the narrow doorway like multiple teenagers squeezing into a telephone booth in the 1950s.

  “Ms. Beech, would you come in? Please cross over the salt line without breaking it.”

  Beech peered at Giulia, at the room, at the smoking bowl, at the camera. “You people are a bunch of fruit loops.” She didn’t budge.

  “Pit Bull, would you replay the five flames footage?”

  “Got it.” He retrieved the camera and held down a button on the viewing screen. “Here it is.”

  He angled the screen toward Beech. Her stiff face slackened into astonishment. Without another word she took two exaggerated steps over the threshold.

  Florence hissed at Giulia, “Tell her the house has to stay.”

  “Not without some explanation.” Giulia set the bowl on the rug, the smoldering herb scenting the room like a precursor to Thanksgiving dinner. “Ms. Beech, now that you’ve seen the video evidence you may not be surprised to learn this house harbors a ghost.”

  In the doorway, Kanning reached new heights of histrionics. Olive kicked his shin. “Shut up.”

  “The ghost designed this house and has been bound to it since her death.”

  “Her?” Beech said.

  “Yes. She’s asked me to negotiate a compromise between you.”

  Beech’s gaze roamed around the chapel, landing on Giulia’s face. “I don’t see a ghost.”

  “Are you questioning my veracity?”

  Barbara Beech, survivor of Catholic grade school, responded to Giulia’s Sister Mary Regina Coelis voice as intended.

  “No, not at all. I didn’t mean anything of the sort. What does she want?”

  “For you not to tear down the house.”

  “Well, but, you’ve seen the drawings. Only a few of the best-preserved fa�
�ades will be kept. All the houses are too old and unstable to make them worth repairing.”

  A pause. Giulia said, “The ghost will describe to me the designs relating to the weakest places in the house and the most efficient way to effect repairs.” Another pause. “She offers to let you use her presence as a draw for adventurous tenants.” Giulia crossed her arms and said to Florence, “Define adventurous.”

  Florence leapt to her feet. “Have you ever seen those ghost hunting TV shows? The nuns watch them. Fans of that nonsense will eat up what I can do with my cigarettes. Harmless tricks only, I promise.”

  Giulia relayed the proposal.

  Beech imitated Giulia’s posture. “Is this for real?”

  Florence lit a cigarette and puffed smoke at Beech. The new CEO of Eagle Developers lost every speck of pigment in her face. Kanning leaped the salt barrier and caught her as her knees buckled.

  Florence laughed. “These office types have no guts.”

  Beech wrested herself out of Kanning’s arms. With steady hands she straightened her suit and smoothed her hair. “Thank you, Mr. Kanning. Ms. Driscoll, I apologize for doubting, but you will admit negotiating with ghosts was not a course offered when I received my MBA.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Your ghost won’t be able to sign a contract.”

  Florence huffed. “Tell the gutless wonder I was making business deals before her grandmother was a gleam in her great-grandfather’s eye.”

  Giulia relayed the message without the epithet.

  Beech managed a thin smile. “As a fellow professional, I applaud her force of character. We women of business have to stick together.”

  Florence laid her hand on top of Giulia’s. “Shake on it for me.”

  Beech peered at Giulia’s hand. “I still can’t see her. How are we…wait. Ms. Driscoll, my office will contact you by the end of the week to discuss retaining you as intermediary for this aspect of the project.”

  Florence elbowed Giulia. “This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

  “You watch classic movies as well as ghost hunting shows?”

  Florence fluttered a hand at her bosom. “Humphrey Bogart is every girl’s dream. If only he’d haunt with me.”

  Beech looked from Giulia’s face to several indefinite spots in midair. “Your ghost watches TV? My marketing people will be all over this.”

  Giulia said to Florence, “Eagle Developers will have my number on speed dial if the truce is broken.”

  “You outrage me, madam.” Florence struck a pose. “I am an upright woman.”

  “Assisted by the corset. Ms. Beech, please confirm you have my direct line.”

  Beech held up her phone’s contact screen.

  “I said I’d behave.” Florence pouted. “Anyway, you have to come back to show me the baby. If only it was a girl, you could’ve named her Florence.”

  Giulia signaled Frank. He herded everyone out of the room, including The Scoop. Kanning cracked his shoulder against the door frame as he tried to walk and watch the camera’s replay screen at the same time.

  When she had Florence to herself, Giulia found the cap to her holy water flask and held it up without screwing it on. “Do you think I’m naïve enough to believe everything you said just now?”

  Florence froze in the act of conjuring a fresh cigarette.

  “You’ve played tricks on everyone in this house except Steve.”

  “Well, but—”

  “You showed us what you’re capable of when you’re angry.”

  “I was provoked—”

  “You showed me how easily you allow yourself to be provoked.” Giulia covered the mouth of the flask with her index finger and tipped a drop onto it.

  Florence lit the cigarette with a trembling hand.

  Giulia balanced the bead of water on the tip of her index finger. “Do you expect me to blindly trust you because you made a few blithe promises under pressure?”

  The cigarette burned unheeded. “Well, but, the baby…and the house…”

  “And the little fact that you murdered Victor Eagle.”

  “I did not!”

  The denial surprised Giulia. Not the actual “no” but the ghost’s voice and body language. Instead of snark and a figurative nudge to bring Giulia in on the joke, Florence exuded shock.

  Giulia didn’t give in. “You admitted you accelerated the chemical reaction in his plastic bottle.”

  “I did, yes, but his number was up no matter what. In my day a child would’ve known not to put a match to a stack of dried paper layered with insect carcasses and desiccated rodent droppings. He would’ve gone up like a torch no matter when his explosion happened. I made sure he did as little damage to my house as possible.”

  Giulia weighed her explanation. It tallied with Florence’s only true obsession, the house. She might not be against a spot of murder, but not if the spot of murder destroyed her house. Giulia was relieved. As long as Victor Eagle’s ghost didn’t show up at the office one day for any reason whatsoever.

  Florence crushed the cigarette in her long fingers. “Are you going to renege on the deal?”

  Giulia wasn’t about to cede an inch of her power and turned hard eyes on the ghost. “I don’t make promises lightly.”

  “Are you implying I do?” Florence bristled.

  Giulia stopped a potential hell-throat before it started. “I’m here to make sure all promises are kept.”

  Florence crossed her arms. “More rules?”

  “Let’s call it insurance.” She dripped water in a half-circle around Florence. The ghost cringed. Giulia had been right. For all the folklore Florence had picked up while lurking while the nuns watched TV, she didn’t know that ghost rules weren’t necessarily demon rules.

  “Now,” Giulia said, “we’ll discuss the real terms of your continued residence here.”

  Eighty

  Rules in place, Giulia joined everyone else in the wide hall by the invalids’ rooms. Steve the Chihuahua was shamelessly begging for attention.

  Frank said to Bart as Giulia arrived, “The report came back on Victor Eagle. It confirms he miscalculated the timing on his chemical arson attempt and, in layman’s terms, blew himself up.”

  Bart clutched his sleeve. “Does that mean we’re no longer under suspicion? All of us? Me too?”

  Frank smiled at her. “Yes, all of you.”

  Olive hugged her. “I knew it.”

  Dorothy stuck her head in Helena’s room. “Did you hear that?”

  Frank took Giulia back into the chapel, away from The Scoop. “If this keeps up I’m going to die of a coronary before I turn forty.”

  “As long as you don’t haunt me.” She leaned against him. “Tonight was more extreme than I expected.”

  “You think?” He squeezed her. “The protective instinct is strong in the Driscolls. You’re messing with generations of genetics.”

  “Don’t crush Zlatan. We’ll discuss genetics and adaptation tonight. I have some fascinating stories to tell you whenever we get home.”

  “I need several beers.”

  “Sure, tease the pregnant woman. Come on, let’s get back to the hall before Kanning realizes we’re gone.”

  As soon as Frank reappeared, Kathryn put her hands on Eugenie’s shoulders. “Detective, what about this one’s tampering with the gas?”

  “Tampering with a gas meter is a criminal offense.” Frank eyed the stairs. “We’ll have to bring the Sister to the precinct, but it’s more than likely she’ll be released on her own recognizance.”

  Eugenie shrank into herself. “You’re arresting me?”

  “What did you think would happen?” Kathryn beckoned to Frank. “Is this necessary?”

  “Our apologies, Sister, but yes. Sister Eugenie isn’t a flight risk, so it’s a ninety-
nine percent chance we’ll bring her right back here.”

  Olivia cackled. “Hear that, Eugenie? You’re not a flight risk. That’s rich.”

  Frank turned to Barbara Beech, who just happened to be sandwiched between himself and Nash. “Ms. Beech, your presence at the station is also requested.”

  The executive lost her business façade yet again. “What? You watched me experiment with passwords until I unlocked Victor’s hidden files. Then you saw with your own eyes I knew nothing about any reprehensible practices initiated by him.”

  “Ms. Beech, we were also auditors as you explained how you had already unlocked certain files and chose to complete the process for The Scoop’s camera.”

  “The time stamps on those files will prove I had nothing—”

  “Ms. Beech, persons in the pay of Eagle Developers have committed acts of vandalism and intimidation.”

  “And murder.” Olive’s voice was shrill. “I heard Ms. Driscoll read that coded memorandum off the computer screen. Poor Matilda didn’t have a fatal heart attack out of nowhere. The thug he called Fagin scared her. Or somebody that Fagin told to do it.”

  Diane said in her quiet voice, “Olive was right all along.” She said to Frank, “Detective, Sister Matilda was walking our dog when the incident occurred. If he can be taken to the person in custody, he may recognize the person’s scent.”

  Frank’s face betrayed no reaction. “Thank you, Sister. We’ll keep it in mind.”

  Beech’s angry voice took on a shrill undertone. “Detective, it’s likely Victor Eagle had an assistant within the company to effect these reprehensible acts. That assistant was not me. I pride myself on my integrity, which reflects on the entire company. Our legal department will work with you to root out any unprincipled employees and bring them to justice.”

  “Ms. Beech, it is our duty to advise you that the evidence in our possession indicates high-level complicity within the company. You are welcome to have a lawyer present during your statement.”

  “You’re damn right I will.” Beech’s long nails beckoned The Scoop. “Clarence.”

  Pit Bull’s camera sprang into action.