The Clock Strikes Nun

by Alice Loweecey

  Elaine played tour guide. “I was too young to remember, but the library started out as an actual chapel. The house’s history is incomplete, but some order of nuns lived here once. I can’t think of another reason for a house to have a chapel. Daddy attached a few pictures to the blueprints when he and mama renovated. There used to be a ten-foot privacy fence all around the property, and the front door had a little grille at eye level, like speakeasies during Prohibition.”

  She led them along a wide hall past piecrust tables, paintings that looked suspiciously like original works or art by some of the minor Impressionists, and a grandfather clock worthy of Uncle Drosselmeyer.

  “Mama and Daddy had the chapel deconsecrated, of course. When they began renovations they discovered floor to ceiling bookcases hidden behind the drywall and incorporated them into the new layout. Mama was a top-notch designer.”

  They filed into a book lover’s fantasy room. The library possessed the same dimensions as the dining room but with old gold velvet drapes and area rugs. Two groupings of deep, overstuffed armchairs and warm cherry tables waited to be lit by stained glass reading lamps.

  Giulia’s insides melted at the bookshelves. A connoisseur’s assortment of colorful paperbacks and leather-bound matching sets, the latter’s gravity dissipated by knickknacks tucked into every odd corner. Hummel figurines peeped between the Greek philosophers. Fu dogs guarded an inexpensive set of the Little House on the Prairie series. These patterns repeated on every shelf lining the walls and surrounding both the door and the fireplace.

  All the Perrault fairy tale figures danced around the border of the hearthrug. Dahlias covered the mantelpiece: glass, ceramic, papier-mâché, wood, crystal.

  The shelves themselves weren’t lacking in character. On three walls they reached the ceiling in regimented rows, but a single glassed-in shelf rose above the fireplace. Starting at the middle glass front, the open shelves on either side slanted a gentle angle down toward the teak floor, up again, and down. Tiny framed portraits hung in the triangles created by the shifting angles.

  “Isn’t it—”

  Giulia put up a hand and Elaine’s voice cut off like Giulia pressed a mute button. In silence she walked the room, picking up a statuette on one shelf, pulling out a book from another. At the fireplace, she crouched to inspect the woven Perrault figures. When she reached the window seat, she turned and faced the room.

  “You are correct.”

  Elaine covered her mouth. Melina gasped. Mike elbowed Georgia. Cissy reached up to rest one hand on Elaine’s shoulder.

  “The stench of evil permeates this room.” Giulia pointed at Mike, wondering if dagger fingernails would’ve been dramatic or overkill. “Bring salt from the kitchen.”

  Mike skedaddled.

  The rest of the castle’s population huddled near the doorway, Cissy included. She might be a domestic despot every other day, but not in the face of a domestic demon.

  Heavy footsteps on the stairs, then in the hall. A container of Morton’s salt materialized four feet above the floor. Mike’s face appeared above it. “It’s iodized. We don’t have any of the plain kind, and I used the last of the sea salt on the sweet potato fries yesterday.” He angled the cylinder so the ceiling lights caught the offending word. “Will it still work?”

  Twenty-Three

  Forget the convent. Giulia knew now she’d missed her true calling: the stage.

  “Certainly.” She strode across the room and took the container. Channeling the always serious face of Castiel from Supernatural, she herded everyone except Zane into the corner by the fireplace.

  “Mr. Hall and I are about to begin. Please do not step over this barrier.” She hemmed them in with a wide ribbon of Morton’s finest.

  “But what about the Devil’s Trap?” Georgia sketched a five-pointed star in the air with one hand and drew a circle around it with the other.

  Clairvoyant Jasper must have been laughing with Rowan in her Tarot room right this minute as he described Giulia’s apparent link with fellow Supernatural fans. If such a thing as clairvoyance existed.

  Still on point, Giulia allowed the corners of her mouth to curl upward. “Real life is not television.” She closed the spout. “I’ve seen a few episodes of Supernatural too.”

  Pink spots blossomed on Georgia’s cheeks. “That Dean sure is easy on the eyes.”

  “Sam is better,” Melina said.

  Cissy’s cheeks matched Georgia’s. “Castiel.”

  “Please remain silent until we finish the ceremony.” Giulia’s return to inflexibility fell over their lighthearted fangirl rapport like a shroud. Mike hunched into his chef’s uniform. Melina and Georgia crossed themselves. Cissy put an arm around Elaine, who rested her head on the housekeeper’s shoulder.

  Giulia glided to Zane’s side, took the holy water flask from her bag, and stopped in front of the window. She handed the bag and flask to Zane and planted herself. With her first flourish of the day she flung apart the drapes. Not-quite-noon sunlight hit the golden area rugs and filled the room.

  Two separate gasps from the salt-enclosed corner. Giulia took advantage of her theatrics and spun on one heel.

  “Light drives out darkness.”

  Knowing the sunlight framed her face and blurred her features made this brazen playacting easier.

  “In nómine Pátris, et Fílii, et Spirítus Sancti. Amen.”

  She could’ve used the help of a haunting setup like the one she’d discovered in Stone’s Throw Lighthouse: a hidden speaker with a remote control to trigger ghostly sobbing on cue.

  She’d have to do without. She moved away from the kind sunlight into the center of the room. “Exorcizámos te, ómnis immúnde spíritus, ómnis satánic potéstas, ómnis infernális adversárii.” Giulia injected authority into her voice.

  Fire trucks wailed past the house. She stepped closer to the fireplace, Latin flowing. In the back of her mind a voice whispered, “What’s your next line?”

  She felt the color drain from her face as she segued into the Credo. As she reached the end of the first section of the rote prayer, the exorcism’s words returned to her: “Váde sátana, invéntor et magíster ómnis falláciae, hóstis humánae salútis.” She held out her hand and Zane slapped the flask into it.

  Something laughed.

  Goose pimples erupted over every millimeter of Giulia’s skin. With a steady hand she unscrewed the cap and flung holy water in the shape of a cross into the fireplace and finished the ritual.

  “Contremísce et éffuge, invocáto a nóbis sáncto et terríbili nominé Jésu.” The voice in the fireplace cut off mid-giggle and a thud echoed through the room.

  “What the hell is going on in my house?”

  Twenty-Four

  Everyone jumped.

  Elaine said, “Pip!”

  Her charming Paul Newman clone stepped onto the salt barrier and scattered it. As he barged between Cissy and Mike to embrace his wife, Mike caught his heel on an uneven floorboard and bumped against the angled bookshelves. With a muffled click, a triangular section of the wall shifted.

  Elaine clung to her husband with one arm and pointed to Giulia with the other. “Did you hear it? Ms. Driscoll exorcised the demon! It laughed at her, but then it ran away. We’ve found the most amazing multitasking detective ever.”

  Pip pointed to the thin black line in the wall. “Darling, what’s that?”

  Elaine’s mouth opened wider, but no more words came out. With his arm around her waist, Pip walked them both to the crack. He hooked his free fingers around the wood and pulled. The triangle opened onto a night-black space.

  “Anyone got a flashlight? Wait. I’ve got my phone.” Still one-handed, he turned on the flashlight app and aimed the light. It revealed a narrow recess, four feet high at the apex and three feet deep. He bent in half to stick his head in. “It looks like a priest
’s hole.” His voice fell dead in the cubbyhole. “Like manor houses in England had back when Henry the Eighth was grabbing all the wealth—”

  Elaine screamed. And screamed some more. She took a breath and kept on screaming. Pip soothed. Cissy scolded. Mike, Georgia, and Melina edged toward the door. Elaine continued to scream in the timbre of nails on a chalkboard.

  “Elaine. Sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.” Pip shook her. “Elaine. Elaine. Please stop. Elaine. Talk to me.”

  He and Cissy dragged her out of the library. Her screams fractured the air until a door closed and cut their volume by three-quarters.

  Giulia said to the three remaining, “Do you know anything about this?”

  Three headshakes.

  “You’ve never seen the hidden door?”

  “No, ma’am,” Mike said. Elaine’s screams escalated for a moment and he shuddered. “I had no idea. They’re bookshelves. I never thought for a second this place would turn into something out of Young Frankenstein.”

  Teri Garr’s voice spoke in Giulia’s traitorous head. “Put—ze candle—beck.” Curse her love of Mel Brooks movies.

  The screams quieted at last. Everyone exhaled. Zane sat in the window seat typing into the iPad. Giulia took control of the room again.

  “Georgia, would you ask Ms. Newton to come back here when she’s finished taking care of Ms. Patrick?”

  A tight nod. Georgia left.

  “Do you need us?” Mike said.

  “No. Thank you.”

  As soon as he and Melina left, Giulia crouched into the niche and tried to take a picture. The flash didn’t provide enough light. She remembered the night vision camera she’d installed with the EVP app.

  The glowing green world in the aperture took a few seconds to get used to. She took several close-ups and then six overlapping shots to mimic a panoramic view.

  “You wanted to see me?” Cissy said from behind her.

  Giulia cracked her head on the angled frame. Her internal “Ow ow ow” didn’t make it to her lips. “Yes, thank you. Is Ms. Patrick better?”

  Sprays of fine lines radiated from Cissy’s sunken eyes and the corners of her mouth. “She’s calmer now. Pip is sitting with her. When she’s particularly anxious she likes him to read from her favorite childhood book of nursery rhymes.” Her expression dared Giulia to judge the household.

  “Were you aware of this hidden room?” was all Giulia said.

  “Yes. It’s on the original house blueprints.”

  Giulia tried to squeeze more blood from the stone Cissy had become. “Is it possible Ms. Patrick was not?”

  The stone didn’t yield a drop. “It’s possible. The major remodeling of the house was carried out before she was old enough to start kindergarten. The changes she designed after her marriage were decorative only.”

  Pip’s voice came through the intercom next to the door. “Cissy, she needs another one.”

  Cissy’s teeth ground together with an audible crunch. “Ms. Driscoll, thank you for your efforts today. I’m afraid my attention is required elsewhere.” She pushed the hidden door until it merged into the wall with a soft click.

  “We’ll see ourselves out.”

  “No. Elaine wouldn’t like that.”

  Pip from the intercom again, charm fraying: “Cissy, what’s the holdup?”

  Cissy pressed the lower left button of the six on the discreet box. “Melina, please come up to the library.” Then she pressed the button directly above it. “Two minutes, Pip.”

  “Hurry the hell up.”

  Melina came running. “Ma’am?”

  “Ms. Driscoll and Mr.…and her assistant are ready to leave. Ms. Driscoll, about what happened here?”

  “We’ll contact you with a report.”

  A brisk nod. “Good.” She hustled down the hall and around the corner.

  Melina glanced at the corner, then at Giulia. “Please follow me.”

  Hiccupping sobs followed them to the top of the stairs. Melina cringed until a door closed and muffled them.

  On the first floor, Mike and Georgia intercepted the intrepid exorcists at the front door. Mike held out his hand and Giulia shook it.

  “I apologize. You’re the real deal. I was sure Ms. Newton hired a couple of actors to make Elaine happy.”

  Georgia shuffled from foot to foot. Mike shot her a look.

  “Don’t nag me, fat boy.” Her lips pressed together the way politicians’ do when they’re caught in a scandal.

  “All right.” She crossed her arms again. “I owe you an apology too. Everyone here is too invested in keeping Elaine happy—stuff it, Melina. You know it’s true. Don’t misunderstand me, Ms. Driscoll. Elaine is a sweet woman and an excellent business manager, but she’s brittle. I figured Ms. Newton had finally lost her marbles and got taken in by shysters.”

  If Melina’s short straight hair had been comprised of Fourth of July sparklers, it would have spontaneously combusted. “Georgia, you are cabezón. Could you not tell these people were honest from the way they spoke with us?”

  Georgia’s shoulders hunched. “I know. They didn’t resort to patter, like that guy from the Christmas party who belonged in a traveling carnival.”

  “No hard sell,” Mike said. “No hand-waving either.”

  Giulia was not about to discuss her own motives. “What happened last Christmas?”

  Melina’s face took on a “something stinks in here” expression. “Sandra Sechrest brought a fortune teller as entertainment.”

  “Without clearing it ahead of time with Ms. Newton.” Georgia shook her hands like they’d touched something hot. “Hoo boy, she dragged Sechrest into her private office and blistered the paint.”

  “Lucky for Sechrest, Elaine thought it was a great idea,” Mike said. “I think those three forget they’re not untouchable. You know the three I’m talking about?”

  “Yes: Sechrest, Hyde, and Pedersen.”

  “We have a pool going on which one will go too far and trigger the Wrath of Elaine. Up to now she’s let them get away with some expense account padding and extras tacked onto supply orders.”

  Georgia said, “My vote is for Hyde to try and get Elaine to pay her kids’ obscene school tuition.”

  Melina said, “I say Pedersen will marry another empty-brained and large-busted creature. She will then cause such a scandal Elaine will activate a morals clause in the company charter and he will be begging in the streets.”

  “Dahlia has a morals clause?”

  Melina looked disappointed. “I do not think so.”

  Georgia jumped in. “But it wouldn’t surprise anyone if Elaine’s mother snuck one in. I’ve heard stories.”

  Mike said, “I’d pay money I don’t have to find out. My bet is Sechrest will turn off her brain in a Pedersen way and find a gigolo who empties her bank account and goes after her stock.”

  Giulia said, “You were telling me about last Christmas.”

  “Right. The fortune teller set up a crystal ball on a velvet tablecloth in the library. He wore a turban and everything.” Mike got the lightbulb look. “Maybe he brought the demon into the house.”

  “Do not forget the Tarot cards,” Melina said. “His deck was not the usual design. I disliked the illustrations.”

  “Melina has a witch phobia.” Mike’s voice was dismissive. “He let me examine his cards. They were limited-edition watercolors of witches and wizards and black cats.”

  Giulia hoped Zane was taking surreptitious notes. “Did he promise everyone good fortune, rich spouses, and extraordinary children?”

  “Even better,” Georgia said. “Sechrest opened and resealed the gifts under the tree and slipped him a cheat sheet. We saw her but none of the other people in the house did. Elaine was over the moon and bought her own Tarot deck from Amazon the next day.”

/>   “Ms. Newton threatened us with chameleon poop cleaning duty for a month if we squealed.” Georgia shuddered. “She inspects it with a magnifying glass. I never looked at my kids’ diapers that closely.”

  Cissy’s voice came through the wall intercom. “Mike, please brew a cup of violet tea.”

  “It’s my own concoction,” he said with pride. “Elaine says she’s going to talk to the Board of Directors about pairing it with next spring’s collection as an add-on.” He bustled into the kitchen.

  Georgia said, “We should get back to work,” and returned to unknown territory via the door behind the staircase.

  Melina opened the front door. “Ms. Newton will forget everything until the calamity passes. I will remind her of your good works in this house today when Elaine is quieted.”

  In silence and in character they returned to Zane’s car. As soon as Giulia buckled herself in she snatched up her legal pad and pen to write up the staff’s foyer revelations.

  “What is that woman on?” Zane braked for a red light.

  “Possibly Xanax.”

  “I thought Xanax was supposed to calm you down.”

  Giulia opened her phone, ignored two voicemails, and Googled WebMD. “Major side effects dizziness, drowsiness, depression—this list is brought to you by the letter D. Lots of lower GI stuff.”

  The light changed. “They’d better not feed it to the chameleons.”

  “Don’t make me snort, please. It’s unprofessional. Ah. Here we go: restlessness and talkativeness.

  “At least it’s not illegal.”

  Giulia slipped her phone into her messenger bag. “Why would we care, in relation to this case?”

  “Heroin, for example, is often cut with fentanyl or morphine. If Elaine was on street junk, I’d strongly suggest we doubt everything she sees and hears.”

  “I will presume your knowledge of this is not first-hand.” Giulia ran her finger down the side effect list again. “Hallucinations are not on the list. Did you bring lunch?”