Sidney frowned. “What am I missing?”
“What better way to convince the stockholders of Elaine’s company she’s unfit to run it?”
“Oh, wow. Someone tampered with her recording.”
“Listen.” Giulia replayed the last verse and the scream.
Zane said, “Play it again.” He closed his eyes. “Is the scream falsetto?”
“Maybe. Anyone in the household could have gotten to Elaine’s phone. It’s quite possible one of our other suspects offered one of the staff a cut of the hoped-for Dahlia money.” She held up an oversized office supply store bag. “It’s time to resurrect the Clue Collage.”
“Whoa. Blast from the past.”
Zane looked at them. “What am I missing?”
Giulia walked to the table beneath the window and tipped out the bag’s contents.
“One set of rainbow highlighters. One set of rainbow Sharpies. One three-pack of invisible tape. One envelope of interview printouts, transcribed after Sunday’s midnight Tarot reading.”
“After Sunday’s what?” from both desks.
Giulia described Cissy crashing their house, the screaming chaos at Elaine’s, and the Tarot show as she sorted the printouts and taped them to the wall.
“Her aunt and uncle and both tutors told me about the nursery rhymes. The Dahlia people could know too. They love gossip. What better target than the boss?”
The tape dispenser chittered. Wagner’s transcript attached to Graser’s which attached to Sechrest’s, Pedersen’s, and Hyde’s. The single page for personal assistants Dona and Shandeen hung off to one side of Pedersen’s. Cissy had her own page, as did Melina, Mike, and Georgia.
“And Pip finishes it off.”
“The Perfect Husband?” Zane said.
“Nobody’s that perfect?” Sidney said.
“In essence. He may have two women on the side, but he also does a boatload of charity work. Anyway, being a tomcat doesn’t necessarily mean he’s linked to a hostile takeover. A change in power might be worse for his finances. I’d have to see his prenup.” Giulia yawned. “If you see me snoring on my keyboard, please poke me. I got maybe an hour’s sleep.”
Sidney glared at her. “Didn’t I warn you to stock up on sleep while you still can?”
“You did, but I was wound up after the reading. I used the energy to transcribe the Tarot session, listen to the not at all soporific sleep recording, and dig into Pip’s history.” She popped the snaps on the packages of markers and highlighters. “I’m now in sleuthing mode. Hold my calls.”
She highlighted phrases and drew arrows, question marks, and key words on the irregular sunburst of papers. Zane and Sidney typed. The traffic outside began to intrude on her concentration.
The door opened. “Ms. Driscoll, we are not happy.”
Forty-Four
Muriel Lockwood knew how to make an entrance. Steampunk was still her theme, but today she was the Intrepid Lady Explorer.
Her long linen bustle skirt and overjacket were beige, and beige was the opposite of dull on Muriel. A brown leather vest topped the skirt, and an ivory pith helmet complete with netting topped her bouncy black curls. Aviator goggles perched on the pith helmet and the heels on her high button brown boots clacked on the wood floor.
She removed her monocle and advanced on Giulia. “Elaine is worse. Pip got desperate enough to call a shrink, but Elaine wouldn’t go.” An eyeroll worthy of any teenager. “He should know better. Cissy had to stop Elaine from taking three Xanax at once. What are we paying you for?”
Giulia wasn’t about to lie down under this attitude from her other client, who apparently didn’t know about last night. “We are not magicians, Ms. Lockwood. Investigations take time.”
“Elaine doesn’t have time, which you ought to have realized. She—ooh, what’s this all about?” Muriel screwed the monocle into her left eye and planted herself in front of the Clue Collage.
Giulia made a rueful face at Sidney, who mirrored it. Since she couldn’t make the client unsee her work, she explained the collage.
“Fascinating.” Muriel’s head bobbed up, down, right, left like a bird pecking at insects. “I remember that little tutor. Who is Dona? Never mind. I see. Oh, please. Not Mark Pedersen.” She ran a finger down his transcript. “You’re missing something.” She looked around and chose the orange Sharpie from the pack. “He likes to play the horses as well as the slots.” She winked with the entire un-monocled side of her face. “I bet his ex-wives wouldn’t like his bank balance if they saw it.” She tapped the capped marker against her shimmering plum lips. “Hyde, good. Sechrest, good. Melina, Georgia, Mike.” She pointed the marker at Giulia, who resisted the urge to swat it out of her hand. “Mike is a cousin. You know that, right?”
“I do. Can you tell me the exact relationship?”
Muriel capped the marker. “I love family history. Let me make sure I get this right. Technically Mike is Elaine’s second cousin. Elaine’s great-grandmother had ten kids. Were all women forced to be baby factories back then or what? One of the boys married Mike’s grandmother. The oldest girl had five boys and three girls, and her oldest girl was Elaine’s mother. Meanwhile, Mike’s grandmother popped out seven kids.” She re-settled the monocle. “No. She had nine but two died of SIDS, probably, even though they didn’t call it that back then. Mike’s mother was the youngest and she had every childhood disease imaginable, and after surviving all of that she and her husband got caught in a massive train crash when Mike was in his second year at culinary school. His dad died in the crash but his mom hung on for six months hooked up to a roomful of hospital machines. The bills wiped the family out, and he had to take out humongous loans. When she died he came to the castle because he had less than nothing.”
She uncapped the marker again. “If you had to beg Aunt Bitch and Uncle Lush for the privilege of being your super-rich cousin’s servant, how much resentment would you build up over the years?” She wrote on Mike’s page. “Elaine pays him a generous salary, but it’s chump change compared to what she pulls down as owner of Dahlia.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Zane said, “Sounds like a foot.” He opened the door on a tower of plastic food containers and a wicker basket being carried by a pair of khaki pants and a plaid arm.
“Cissy?” Muriel said.
“Muriel? Come help me with these.”
The Intrepid Steampunk Explorer clacked to the door and lifted the containers. Cissy followed her to the table. Muriel swept the markers, tape, envelope, and bag to the floor as Cissy pointed to each container in turn.
“Sandwiches, lemonade, pickles, and parfaits. Mike crafted everything from scratch except the chicken and beef.”
Muriel set out plastic cups. “No room for chickens or cows in the flower garden.”
Cissy draped a yellow gingham tablecloth over the table. Muriel lifted containers to make room.
“Cissy, what is all this?” Giulia said.
“Lunch, of course,” Muriel said.
Cissy set thick foil-wrapped squares on plates. “We decided you could use a homemade meal after last night. Are any of you vegetarian?”
“I am,” Sidney said.
“Mike made up an alternative just in case. Muriel, it’s the one with a ‘V’ on the foil.” She opened the pickle jar. “Don’t waste good food, please.”
Zane and Sidney formed a line. Giulia turned to the wall to hide a smile. Cissy’s voice recalled school lunch ladies.
Cissy followed Giulia’s head movement. “Why is my name on the wall?”
Muriel said through bites of chicken salad on sourdough, “It’s everyone she suspects of targeting Elaine. I added two bits of dirt she didn’t know.” She added a pickle to the sandwich bites in her mouth. “By the way, you’ll have to convince me Pip the Perfect is an honest to God suspect. He’s done wonders f
or Elaine, even though I laugh behind his back at the whole ideal male shtick.”
Cissy pointed to Giulia, then to the table. “Eat, please.”
Giulia wondered in all seriousness if today was finger pointing day in Dahlia land. She chose to comply to keep the client happy. As she gave roast beef on rye the attention it deserved, Cissy read the collage. Clients were never going to see her brainstorming method again. All future Clue Collages would hang in her private office on the wall behind the door.
“This sandwich is amazing,” Zane said. “Do I taste bok choy in the chicken salad?”
“I don’t know.” Cissy’s voice was distant. “Mike doesn’t let anyone in on his kitchen secrets.” She stood on tiptoe to read the topmost pages.
The Scoop slammed open the door exactly like Monty Python in the “Spanish Inquisition” sketch.
Forty-Five
“Investigation in action, lunchtime edition.” Ken Kanning’s level of excitement didn’t match the scene in front of him.
Pit Bull pushed the camera in Cissy’s face. Kanning slithered next to her.
Cissy stared up at his coiffed ’do and pancaked visage. “You’re Ken Kanning.”
“I am indeed, Miss.”
Cissy’s round cheeks grew apple red. “I watch your show when I’m able.”
He dialed up the wattage on his teeth. “Scoopers are the backbone of our show.” The teeth said to the camera: “The indefatigable Giulia Driscoll works through another lunch to lasso justice for her clients. And once again we’re on the scene to aid a faithful Scooper in—” Kanning flicked the mic from his mouth to Cissy’s.
“Helping Elaine.”
Giulia pushed between them. “Mr. Kanning, please call for an appointment if you wish to speak to someone in our office.” She indicated the door. “As you said, we’re working. I believe you know the way out.”
Zane positioned himself on one side of Pit Bull. Sidney shielded Muriel from the camera. In sync, Kanning and Pit Bull lowered the tools of their scandal mongering.
Kanning aimed an undimmed smile at Giulia. “Whenever you’re ready to team up again, just whistle.”
Zane took a step nearer. The Scoop beat a hasty retreat.
Giulia locked the door. “Cissy, I’d advise against saying too much to Ken Kanning.”
Cissy shook her head as though to clear it. “I don’t know what came over me. My mouth opened on its own.”
Muriel crowed with laughter. “Cis-sy’s a fan-girl! Cis-sy’s a fan-girl!”
Giulia interrupted. “Thank you for this amazing lunch, but it wasn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it was.” Cissy laid a hand on the wall. “I respect your thoroughness in including me on this display. In fairness, Muriel should also have a page.”
Muriel clapped. “I’ve never been a suspect in anything before. Cissy, be my spokesperson while I steal a blueberry parfait.”
Cissy’s irritation with Muriel was replaced with indulgence, much the way Giulia had caught her looking at Elaine. “Muriel is somewhat eccentric.”
Ms. Eccentric raised a long-handled spoon in acknowledgement. Her mouth was too full of berries and whipped cream to reply.
“She has no need to work because she inherited a great deal of money when her parents died. These days she enjoys a pre-nineteenth century lifestyle of literature and fashion.”
Muriel said, “Next month or maybe next year I’ll try the Roaring Twenties or Marie Antoinette at Versailles. I’m not sitting as pretty as Elaine, but you’ll never hear me complain.” She punctuated her revelation with another spoonful of whipped cream. “If you need confirmation, ask the Fancy Fantasies costume shop and the Light Fantastic dance club. The bartender keeps a bottle of absinthe on hand just for me.”
Cissy mashed all the used aluminum foil into a ball. “We need to pack up. Please finish everything.” She tucked the smaller empty containers into the biggest one. Muriel poured the rest of the lemonade into Giulia’s cup with one hand while finishing her dessert with the other. Cissy folded the tablecloth and left the parfaits on the table.
Giulia thanked her again as she walked them out to the hall. “You may expect our interim report by Wednesday.” The skree of the downstairs door closing came a minute later.
“I might as well install a revolving door.” She tasted a strawberry parfait. “Real whipped cream.”
Her phone chimed a text message from Kanning:
Forgot to mention there are 17 vans exactly like ours in the greater Pittsburgh area. Time for joint sleuthing?
She showed it to Sidney and Zane.
“Maybe Rowan can hex him,” Sidney said.
“I have a great aunt,” Zane began.
Godzilla roared from Giulia’s computer. She carried her dessert into her office and a minute later vented a wordless shout of frustration. Sidney and Zane came running.
“Zane, how much does your aunt charge?”
“Really?”
Giulia closed her eyes. “No, not really.” She opened them again. “Look at this.”
She clicked the video embedded in The Scoop’s email. Ken Kanning’s voice imitated the “In a world where…” movie preview narrator.
“Homicide on the streets. Who is behind the wheel of the Killer Van?”
The Scoop’s usual quick-cut montage showed several models of panel vans driving toward the camera. Their producer had applied CGI bursts of aggressive color to them: red, black, and orange, with added bursts and lightning streaks.
Kanning’s voice finished: “Is anyone safe from the Mobile Menace? Find out next week on The Scoop!”
Forty-Six
The door chimes on the Tarot Shoppe tinkled their high, sweet notes as Giulia entered. Jasper was crouched before the glass display case, spraying window cleaner on it with his left hand and polishing the surface with newspaper held in his prosthetic right hand.
He smiled and stood when he saw Giulia. “How’s your new venture going?”
“The venture is why I’m here without an appointment. Are you free for a few minutes?”
“No problem. Rowan just started a deluxe past life reading, and no one else is scheduled until three.” He indicated the display. “Can I interest you in a rose quartz talisman?”
Giulia smiled and shook her head. “Can I interest you in an Assisi crucifix?”
He chuckled. “Truce. What can I help you with?”
She told him the details of the midnight reading. “Is it really possible to learn the truth about someone’s future or clarify their problems through the cards?”
Jasper polished the top of the case. “It depends.”
The sound out of her mouth resembled “Aarrgh.”
Jasper chuckled again. “Sorry, but Tarot is an art which depends on the skill and power of the reader.” His gaze circled Giulia’s head.
She reached up to mash her brown curls into submission. “Did the humidity turn me into a human Brillo pad?”
“What? I don’t know. I was trying to see your aura. Usually I need to quiet myself for a few minutes to open my Sight.”
Giulia stood still, hands in pockets. It was the polite thing to do.
After a minute, he said, “Your little guy is shifting the color balance. Orange is elbowing indigo and pale yellow for room. You also have a handful of muddy red spikes sticking out like thorns. Are you angry about something?”
She didn’t have one-tenth the stamina needed to discuss the possible existence of auras, so she answered the question. “The Scoop.”
Jasper’s change of expression indicated muddy red spikes in his own aura. Assuming: 1) auras existed, and 2) they could be seen.
“Say no more. Sorry there aren’t cut and dry answers about readings.”
“I needed to ask. Thanks.”
“Anytime.” His eyebrows pushed to
gether. “Have you been involved in a lot of excitement recently? Your little guy is wicked happy.”
Forty-Seven
“Zane, how easy is it to insert new material into an existing sound file?” Giulia played the rhyme leading into “There was a lady,” and the rhyme after it. Played in order, the slight difference between the two voices came out.
“Dead easy. I did something similar in junior high as an April Fool’s Day prank.” He opened a file on his phone. “Want to hear a demo?”
“No, I meant can people with an average skill set do it?”
“Sure. All it takes is a good audio program and a little practice. I showed Sidney how to make Jessamine’s laugh her text tone.”
Sidney took out her phone. “He’s a great teacher. Listen.” She poked the screen a few times and played a familiar baby’s giggle.
“There goes another chance to narrow the suspect list.”
Zane handed her a phone message slip. She read it and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I need a keeper. My car’s been ready for days and I forgot all about it.”
The phone rang. Zane answered and put it on hold. “It’s Cissy Newton.”
“We’re already paying for lunch in ways not connected to our actual bill. I’ll take it in my office.”
“Mothers aren’t supposed to get cynical until the kids reach middle school at least,” Sidney said.
“I’m getting a head start.” She left the door open. “Giulia Driscoll speaking.”
“We’ve had a development.” Cissy’s voice was all business, but she clipped every word. “Elaine received a certified letter. The stockholders have retained a lawyer and have instituted a formal inquiry into Elaine’s fitness to run Dahlia.”
Giulia was almost relieved. Not for the legal action, but for plain old detective work. Ghost hunting was too much like stepping from small slippery rock to small slippery rock across an unknown river.
The Clock Strikes Nun Page 20