The Clock Strikes Nun

by Alice Loweecey

  “There’s no hope,” Cissy whispered. “No one understands Elaine like I do. Their hand-picked psychiatrist will tell a judge exactly what the stockholders want to hear, and Elaine will lose everything.” Her voice broke on the last word as her face sank into deep lines.

  The letter’s bald prose mimicked an IRS audit communication. If the initial letters from the stockholders’ lawyer had been written this way, it was no wonder Cissy and the Board of Directors reacted as they did.

  The soap opera went to commercial. Giulia rummaged in her bag and produced a single tissue. Cissy began shredding it to the jingle for an all-purpose cleaner.

  Giulia made a dash for the dining room and returned with a pile of upscale paper napkins. Total time seven seconds. Cissy came back to the present when Giulia soaked the first napkin with the tears on her cheeks. The efficient house manager plucked the rest from Giulia’s hands and blotted her eyes.

  “Thank you. I apologize.”

  “There’s no need. You received startling news.”

  Cissy blew her nose. “You have a talent for understatement. Why didn’t your Tarot reading foresee this development?”

  “As I explained to Elaine at the outset of the reading, the cards speak to the question or problem uppermost in the seeker’s thoughts. Sunday night Elaine asked about the castle haunting and her family. When she cut the deck, the cards responded to that desire.”

  Rowan would be proud.

  Cissy blew her nose again. “You were asking about finances. Pip’s personal bank accounts are robust. He also signed a prenuptial agreement drawn up by the family lawyer. If Elaine predeceases him or is incapacitated, he receives half the interest from her stock for his lifetime. If they divorce, he receives the same half interest for a period of three years.”

  Hardly Draconian. Giulia was surprised. “Would the interest amount to a considerable sum?” Zane must have uncovered Elaine’s stock numbers. She’d have to check.

  Cissy pressed the remaining dry napkin to her eyes. “If profits keep their current trend and Pip invests three-quarters of the amount he could retire at age forty. Pip is thirty.”

  If Giulia had been Frank, she would’ve whistled.

  Cissy’s smile was not pleasant. “Elaine has been Pip’s princess from their very first meeting. Mike has been a treasured member of the household since he made the world’s best cheesecake on his trial run.” She flung the balled-up napkins at the catfighting actresses on the TV. “Now we have a crime scene in the basement, a ghost terrorizing our lives, and a possible Judas under our roof.” The lines in her face aged her another ten years. “Next you’ll be telling me my chameleons are possessed.”

  “Have they ever turned demon red without warning?”

  Cissy’s mouth dropped open. Giulia kept her face expressionless as long as she could, but finally gave in and winked.

  Cissy gulped. “You had me trying to recall all their recent color changes.” She turned off the TV. “I’d like you to stay here tonight.”

  The woman epitomized “coming out of left field.” “Why?”

  “Would you be offended if I said you’re our safety net?” She gathered the napkin missiles from the floor. “You’ve discovered terrible things in our house, but you also know how to protect Elaine and abolish evil.”

  She tossed everything into a yellow wicker basket, the only non-floral piece in the room. “There’s another reason. If you’re right about what you asked me, I’ll need you as a witness. I will have no mercy on any human trying to hurt Elaine.”

  Fifty-Three

  Pip and Giulia faced each other across the Perrault hearthrug in the library.

  “I want you to know I spoke to the detectives before they left. They’ll be running your fingerprints against any found on the skeleton or the tools in the wine cellar.”

  “I see.”

  “You have to admit this whole haunting business has escalated since you first came to my house.”

  “When Ms. Newton retained our services.”

  “Which she did without consulting me.”

  “The interpersonal dynamics of Elaine’s house are not our concern.”

  “Elaine’s and my house.”

  “Mr. Patrick, was there anything else you wished to discuss?”

  “Yes. If my wife asks for another Tarot reading or Ouija Board session, I want you to refuse. This spiritualism circus act is bad for my wife’s mental and physical health.”

  “Driscoll Investigations will continue to conduct its investigation in accordance with the best interests of its client.”

  The grandfather clock in the hall struck two, the first sound to penetrate the library since she’d entered.

  “If there’s nothing else, Mr. Patrick?”

  Fifty-Four

  Frank watered the vegetables while Giulia grilled shrimp kebabs. The chameleon’s eyes swiveled every which way as the water arched over the plants and spattered the miniature tree in her cage.

  “This lizard is watching me.”

  “She likes you.”

  “Or she’s plotting my demise because I’m not giving her the proper amount of droplets on her ficus leaves for her to gather and drink.” He gave the cucumbers a second soaking. “Can I talk you out of sleeping in the Haunted Palace of Pittsburgh?”

  Giulia painted barbecue sauce on the shrimp and vegetables. “You cannot. Being on the spot is the break I need to discover which of them is working with the aunt and uncle.”

  “I understand that as a fellow detective, but the Neanderthal male in me is saying you will be in much too close proximity to the mastermind gaslighting his wife or the mastermind who could poison your midnight snack.”

  “Which is why I’m packing my own midnight snack.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “You forgot one of them is also the mastermind giving orders to the driver of the murderous vehicles. Supper’s ready.”

  He turned off the hose. “You raise my blood pressure when you say things like that.”

  She transferred the kebabs to two plates. “Supper won’t raise your blood pressure. It’s healthy enough for Sidney’s table, if we subtract the shrimp.”

  He advanced on her. “Don’t be disingenuous.”

  She pecked his nose as she balanced a plate in each hand. “You’re sexy when you use big words.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Murinín, they’ve tried to run you off the road three times. You’re smart and kickass, but they’re upping their game.”

  “Let go of me before I drop these plates, please.”

  He lifted both dishes from her grasp and carried them into the kitchen. “Have you come up with any reason why they’re trying to make you a traffic statistic but only haunting the flower princess?”

  Giulia folded napkins. “It’s been percolating in the back of my head for days. Elaine’s grandparents created a convoluted structure for Dahlia. One of their direct female descendants must be Dahlia’s CEO or the company reverts to the stockholders. I don’t have all the details, but an Elaine too terrified to leave her bedroom can still be titular head of Dahlia.”

  Frank opened the fridge. “And since Elaine’s running Dahlia from her house already, her relatives can swoop in to help and the gravy train continues.” He brought out the pitcher of iced tea.

  “DI is spoiling the plan.”

  “Thus the homicidal vans.” He let loose a string of Irish profanity.

  Giulia let him get it out of his system as she watched the chameleon gather water drops from the leaves before going inside. “Scarlett says thank you for Happy Hour.”

  “Oh, God, if that creature starts talking you have to exorcize it.” He poured tea into two glasses.

  “You are a true gentleman. For helping with supper, not for thinking our new bug zapper is possessed.”

 
He banged the pitcher on the table. “If I were a gentleman, I’d be knocking on the castle door to offer Prince Charming a choice of swords or pistols at dawn.”

  “Him or the cook.”

  “I’ll take them both on.”

  Giulia pulled her chair closer to the table. “Take on supper, please, because I need to clean up the kitchen before my sleepover.”

  “Babe…”

  Giulia set down her fork. “Honey, I know you’re worried. I know you’d rather I chose only one hundred percent safe jobs. Don’t forget I use Zane as my bodyguard when necessary. But I’m not going to abandon this mystery when I’m a whisker away from the solution.” She inserted a dramatic pause. “And you wouldn’t want me to.”

  They stared each other down.

  Frank stabbed a barbecued shrimp. “Dammit.”

  Giulia ate her supper with a beatific smile on her face.

  Fifty-Five

  Georgia was on door duty when Giulia rang the bell at eight o’clock.

  “Ms. Driscoll, did you hear?”

  “About?” Giulia followed her inside.

  Georgia took charge of Giulia’s gym bag and closed the door. “They identified the skeleton.” Her expression flip-flopped between the neutral mask of a servant and one of macabre delight.

  “Thank you, Georgia. Please bring Ms. Driscoll’s bag to the Gray Room.”

  Cissy’s tone of voice would’ve frozen the fires of both the Sixth and Seventh Circles of Dante’s Hell. Georgia all but meeped as she vanished up the central stairs.

  “Ms. Driscoll, may I speak with you in my office?”

  Giulia walked with her as an equal. Cissy closed them in and sat behind her desk. With hands clasped on her blotter calendar she said, “The police called a few minutes ago. The skeleton was stolen from Allegheny Cemetery last month. The strange antiquarian was right. It’s a girl. She died one hundred seven years ago.” Her professional façade crumbled. “If you’re correct, either Elaine’s husband or her cousin left here in the middle of the night, desecrated an ancient grave, and secreted the remains in the wine cellar.” She dropped her head into her hands. “Why? Why?”

  “Elaine wants children. Based on the Tarot reading, she places unquestioned belief in signs and portents. Discovering an infant’s skeleton in her house could be spun however the grave-robber wanted. For instance, the child’s ghost has cursed Elaine. She doesn’t deserve to have children. The castle is haunted by the child’s ghost, which obviously hates Elaine. You see how she could be affected by this: With proper handling she could become a recluse in her own rooms yet still be head of Dahlia. The money would continue to flow unimpeded and no one would be bothered by Elaine any longer.” Giulia waited for her to connect the dots.

  Cissy raised her head. “But Pip and Elaine worship each other. You can see it every moment they’re together.”

  “And Mike?”

  “He’s the quintessential nice guy. He’s always cheerful, even around my chameleons, which he would prefer never to see again. He’s always helpful, and he has a real talent in the kitchen.”

  Giulia leaned both hands on the desk. “What do you pay him?”

  For a moment, she thought Cissy would refuse to answer.

  “Yes, of course. You have a reason to ask.”

  The figure she named wasn’t a fortune, but it was quite a bit more than Giulia expected to hear. Cissy picked up on her reaction.

  “We wanted to give Mike incentive to stay. Elaine and Pip entertain here a few times each year and the guests are always lavish with their compliments on the meals. In the circles Elaine and Pip belong to, luring away an extraordinary staff member is almost expected.”

  Giulia appreciated being several rungs below Elaine on the society ladder. “Have you received such offers?”

  Cissy started and her ears reddened. “Yes. But I would never, never leave Elaine. Never.”

  Giulia straightened and crossed her arms, messenger bag bouncing against her hip. “And you used the offers to negotiate a raise.” She didn’t make it a question.

  “I did not!” The red ears blazed to crimson. “I don’t stay with Elaine for the money.”

  “But Mike did.”

  After a moment’s hesitation Cissy said, “Yes.”

  “How many times and when?”

  Pain crept into Cissy’s eyes. Her crow’s feet clawed farther onto her cheeks. “Twice. Two Christmases ago and this past Fourth of July. We bargained both times and came to an acceptable compromise. At least I thought it was acceptable.” She stood. “May I offer you something to eat or drink?”

  “Thank you, no. If you’ll tell me the way to my room for tonight, I’ll unpack.”

  Cissy walked with her up the stairs. “These stairs were painted enough times to add half an inch to their depth. Elaine’s parents had them stripped and uncovered their beautifully grained oak.” When they reached the landing, she lowered her voice. “Elaine should be asleep. I caught her sneaking another Xanax, but she swallowed it before I could snatch it out of her mouth.”

  Giulia refrained from voicing an opinion which would get her booted into the street.

  “This was Elaine’s mother’s prize possession.” Cissy stopped before a narrow Impressionist painting of yellow and pink dahlias. “It’s an original Monet.”

  Giulia said, “It’s beautiful,” as she calculated the house’s astronomical insurance bill. Ten years living below the poverty line as Sister Mary Regina Coelis made her forever allergic to extravagance like this.

  “Tomorrow before breakfast I’ll give you our art and antiques tour. Only two dollars.” Cissy’s lighthearted humor attempt fell as flat as pizza dough without yeast. They continued walking. “The Gray Room is in the opposite hall from Elaine’s and Pip’s rooms. It was Elaine’s parents’ bedroom. Gray was her mother’s color: she looked timeless and classic in it.” Her smile conveyed illicit enjoyment. “Arthur hated gray walls. He said the color made any room look like a garage floor.”

  “Yet the room remained gray.”

  “Belinda always got what she wanted.” Cissy opened a door at the back of the house. “She also didn’t want traffic noises interrupting her sleep.”

  The master bedroom was indeed a symphony in gray. Silver drapes, slate rugs, pewter walls, graphite bedspread and pillow shams. Even the art on the walls coordinated. All three paintings depicted rainy streets: one at dawn, one at twilight, and one in winter.

  “This room could be the cover of an interior decoration magazine.” An empty compliment. Giulia agreed with Arthur.

  Cissy closed the door. “Ms. Driscoll, is the ghost of that infant haunting our house?”

  Fifty-Six

  Trapped.

  Giulia could’ve mouthed phrases picked up from Rowan. She could’ve lied outright, assuming a lie would make it out of her mouth. Instead her answer was born from the unexpected behavior of the EMF meter. “I don’t know.”

  For the first time, Cissy looked pitiful. “Then it may be something else.”

  Saved.

  Cissy busied herself turning on the bedside lamp and the light in the master bathroom. “I never thought I’d miss the little annoyances of running a house this size. The leaky faucet in Elaine’s private bath. My most incorrigible chameleon slipping out of its cage and scaring Georgia. The water pipes knocking only after the first hard freeze.” She turned down the bed. “The house has such a colorful history. We might’ve come to an agreement with the right ghost.” She pulled a pillow out of the sham on her side. “When Pip first heard noises, Elaine dived right into the haunting idea. She thought it was fun. But then Mike started hearing things and after him the others, and we all became frightened. Then the demon infested the fireplace and the ghost began destroying items which mattered to Elaine.”

  Giulia liberated the other pillow. Cissy folded both
shams and set them on the dresser.

  “If your EMF meter makes noise tonight, please come get me, no matter what time it is. I’m in the room opposite Elaine’s.” She opened the door and said on the threshold, “Please feel free to go anywhere in the house except the occupied bedrooms.”

  As soon as Cissy was out of sight, Giulia made sure the EMF meter and EVP recorder on her phone were activated. She tucked her wallet and keys in her pockets—trust no one, especially mischievous ghosts—and went exploring.

  The second floor porch and two guest bedrooms yielded no spirit noises or hollow laughter. She descended the back stairs. The door she chose opened onto the kitchen. She passed the room of now-sleeping chameleons—Did lizards snore? She’d find out when they brought Scarlett inside for the winter—and clicked the switch at the top of the cellar stairs.

  Bright yellow CRIME SCENE—DO NOT CROSS tape stretched across the wine cellar doorway. She aimed her phone at the excavated corner and braced herself.

  “Is it still haunted?”

  Giulia spun around, free arm raised to strike. In full chef regalia minus the tall hat, Mike backpedaled, tripped on something invisible, and his butt hit the cement floor.

  “Whoa, stop, okay?” He held up both hands in surrender. “I came down to prep for breakfast and saw the cellar light.”

  “Ghosts don’t need light.”

  “Light,” Giulia’s phone repeated.

  Mike crab-walked backward until his shoulders collided with the nearest archway. “What the hell?”

  “Hell.”

  “Oh, shit, this place really is haunted.” He leaped to his feet, stumbled once, and pounded up the stairs.

  Giulia inspected the EVP app with approval. Its habit of picking up the last word spoken couldn’t have served her purpose better. Mike was probably closeted right now with Georgia, Melina, and a whisky bottle, inspiring the women to new heights of hysteria. Too bad Pip wouldn’t be a part of Mike’s audience.