Nun But The Brave (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 3) (14 page)

Thirty

“My parents aren’t happy about our lifestyle choice,” Cheryl said as Giulia sat at the spinning wheel to try her hand. “They don’t get their grandchild fix often enough, they say.”

Giulia made sympathetic noises as she attempted to control the spinning wheel plus the raw wool. First the wool broke. Then it tangled. Then it broke again.

“Why can I use a sewing machine but not this?”

Cheryl made a dismissive gesture. “We all start out the same way. If you’re fortunate enough to become a member here, I’ll show you all the tricks I’ve learned over the years.”

Giulia gave up after three yarn breaks in a row. “I knew I had another question. What about vaccines for the children? The last thing the new world needs is to be wiped out by an outbreak of measles.”

“You’re so right. Our leader has a stockpile of vaccines stored in a lead-lined safe. They’ll last us for years, he assures us. We have penicillin and other essential medical supplies in there too.”

Maria Martin said approving words while Giulia Driscoll’s thoughts were all about refrigeration and viability and expiration dates. The community had perfect faith in their leader’s wisdom. Cult mentality at its finest. Giulia wouldn’t want to be around them when they injected their outdated vaccines into the children. Into the adults as well, possibly, if some of their members indulged in the luxury of vaccine denial. That would be an interesting argument…for certain definitions of interesting.

The sound of cars driving onto the dirt parking area came through the hedge. Giulia rejoiced. More tin foil hat wearers prepared to be charming and helpful to a complete stranger, none of whom had the least clue she was mining them like her personal vein of ore.

Today was turning out to be a very good day.

The teenagers crashed through the hedge opening. “Dad! Dad! Mom busted up our football game again!”

A deep male voice answered them. Three other voices joined the conversation, the bodies attached to the voices appearing through the hidden entrance one by one. The men loosened neckties. The women slipped off high heels and pulled off earrings and wristwatches.

“Home at last,” came from everyone in a ragged chorus. Two German Shepherds, a Rottweiler, and a Border Collie came in with the new arrivals, barking and running everywhere except near the beehives.

Alex introduced Giulia to the humans and the dogs. So many names. At least the dogs’ names were easer to remember. The collie was Lassie, of course, and a humongous Rottweiler was called Pepin. The dogs accepted her and the humans were kind and welcoming and helpful. Giulia kept herself from making Jim Jones Kool-Aid jokes in her head by brute force.

The aroma of roasting pork came from two of the houses. The men opened doors and returned to the central area now wearing jeans and sandals or work boots. The football players and two teenage girls set up wooden tables next to the fire pit. Giulia helped with dishes and utensils, cucumber salad, zucchini pickles, and cups of water. The talk turned to a broken water purifying system and ways to repair it. No one mentioned calling in a certified repair technician. Giulia most definitely did not suggest the community recruit one.

Cheryl and Alex brought out roast pork and big flat loaves of bread. Everyone sat and ate. Giulia’s welcome never faltered. She talked politics and history across the table, canning techniques to her right and homemade spice blends to her left. Each community member added a nugget of information specifically given to them by their leader. Not only did this as yet unseen leader appear to know everything about everything, his flock seemed to take every word from his lips as Gospel.

Giulia clamped a death grip on her legs before they tried to run through the hedge back to normalcy. Cheryl offering her mead distracted her.

“I have to drive home soon.” She was always pleased when she could make a plain, truthful statement while undercover.

Her driving comment led to several humorous stories of encounters with police while transporting pigs and goats and trees.

Everyone at the tables was under the age of forty. So many Pelvises of the Future. An equal number of Schlongs of the Future, therefore. Giulia stopped that train of thought before she started to giggle for no reason she dared explain. She blamed Diane Philbey for planting the “s” word in her head to appear at inappropriate times.

The spices on the pork made her lips tingle. She would’ve added a good, thick barbecue sauce to dip the chewy bread into. Yeast wasn’t allowed in the new world? That didn’t make sense. Somebody in this community must know how to maintain yeast. Since Joanne hadn’t arrived for this communal supper, drat the luck, Giulia would have to wangle another invitation here. Bringing an offering of a yeast starter might tip the scales, if the judgment of these happy, welcoming Stepford people wasn’t completely in her favor.

Meals appeared to be the way these busy pioneers of the future relaxed. All the adults were leaning back in their chairs, smiling. Multiple conversations slowed from the pace of a ping-pong match to a leisurely game of catch. Even the teenagers mellowed enough not to gripe when told to milk the goats.

Giulia applied her crack detective skills. All clues pointed to the mead. She might not be familiar with the brewing process for mead, but she did know the legal drinking age in the United States.

These teenagers did not meet it.

After everyone helped clean up—Giulia tacitly approved the workload sharing—Alex corralled her to try her hand at archery. The day-long audition continued.

Giulia discovered the skill set to aim and fire a gun did not transfer one-to-one upon picking up a bow and arrow. When her third shot flew over the target into the trees, she said, “A whole family of squirrels is in that chestnut tree, laughing at me.”

Alex coughed. “Have you ever fired a gun? Oh, wait. You’re a hunter. What am I thinking?”

Maria Martin gave him her self-deprecating smile while Giulia Driscoll thought at him, “You didn’t forget a thing in my profile, you weasel. And what happened to your preacher voice? Now you’re all about how fun this first date is.”

They detoured into his house to get pistols, since a hunter wouldn’t need to prove her skill with a rifle. Giulia’s ankles sent her nasty messages as they walked all the way to the end of the barley. She promised them the Nunmobile’s air conditioning turned on high and another tub of cold water as soon as she got home.

Giulia decided not to fake this and hit the bull’s-eye seven out of eight shots. Alex shut up. Maria Martin made sure to deprecate her skill without quite calling it luck. When Alex’s powers of speech returned, his hands expressed their approval as well. Giulia turned in an Oscar-worthy performance of pretending to enjoy his mead-laden kiss and butt grope.

“You’re wasted out in the world, Maria. Would you be willing to tell me if your finances are robust enough for you to become a functioning member of the community?”

“Well, really, that’s a really personal question. I mean, I don’t mean to sound like a goofy teenager or anything, but I don’t know…”

What Giulia “really” wanted was mouthwash and a shower and more mouthwash. Also her phone to take pictures of everything. There ought to be a way. She needed to figure out the way before her next adventure in the land of tin foil hats.

She looked at her bare wrist and dithered. “Oh, no. How can I find out what time it is? I have to get up at four thirty for work tomorrow.”

Alex wrestled his octopus persona into submission. “We all learn to tell general time by the sun.” He backed up several steps to look through a long gap in the tree cover. “I’d guess about eight o’clock. I’ll walk you to your car.”

When they reached the circle of houses, Giulia thanked Cheryl for her spinning lesson. Cheryl was still a good deal mellower than she had been before supper. The teenagers were on the octagonal house’s porch. One of the girls was reading out loud. One of the boys was asleep with his head in her lap.

“The rest of us are putting the animals in their sheds for the night,” Alex said. When they exited through the hedge he said, “You fit in so well. The community will discuss a return visit, if you’re amenable.”

Giulia chose a strategic push back. “Today gave me a lot to digest. I’m going to need to think hard about everything a complete lifestyle change requires.”

Ding-ding-ding. Alex the wild-eyed evangelist shoved aside Alex who got turned on by a woman with pistol skills.

“I respect your desire to analyze your fitness for the community. I will leave a message informing you of the community’s decision.”

They shook hands as a G-rated conclusion to the day. Alex gave her reverse roundabout directions to get back to Pittsburgh. Giulia popped the glove compartment as soon as she was out of sight and pulled to the side of the road. Her paranoia level infected by the day’s events, she took out pen and paper plus her cell phone and made a show of writing directions. One of the happy, helpful people might have binoculars trained on the Nunmobile. After the show she unlocked her phone and dropped a pin on her current location before heading home with the air conditioner blasting arctic air on her throbbing feet.

Thirty-One

Frank opened the garage door before Giulia turned off the Nunmobile’s ignition.

“I was half an hour away from coming up there to rescue you.”

“O ye of little faith. No, don’t touch me until I gargle with a gallon of Listerine. Wild Eyes rewarded my accuracy with a pistol by mashing his lips on mine and grabbing my butt. I feel utterly violated.”

Frank performed some lip-mashing of his own. “You wanton hussy. Your butt is mine alone to grope.” Another kiss. “I will fling my gauntlet in his face.” Another. “Did you find your missing person?”

Giulia kissed him once more before unlacing her boots. “No, but only a handful of the community—yes, you heard me—was around today. I have to soak my feet and then I want to use as much technology as possible for the rest of the night. We used more modern conveniences on my long-ago six weeks of total silence Final Vow retreat. Come up to the bathroom with me.”

She ran cold water in the tub and sat on the edge. “This is paradise.” When the water covered her ankles she turned off the faucet and turned on her phone’s voice memo function. “This way I don’t have to remember it again tomorrow when I type it all up.”

She started with the hedge and its hidden entrance, paused to add more cold water, and moved on to the houses and gardens, football and spinning wheels.

“Good God. Did the women all wear prairie dresses?”

“No. I was surprised too. If I looked at the surroundings one way, I saw happy workers on an old-fashioned sustainable farm. If I looked at them another way, I saw paranoid cyberphobics indulging in the equivalent of stuffing their money in their mattresses.” She checked her shrinking feet for levels of prune. “Did I mention the mead?”

“Homemade hooch? They’ll all die of botulism.”

Giulia opened a search window on her phone. “No they won’t. It’s something to do with the honey…here it is. Honey is all about good bacteria. My grandfather used to make wine in the basement. He taught us kids how. We should return to my peasant roots and brew some mead. Little Zlatan will be born by the time it’s ready and we can toast his birthday.”

She opened the stopper and the water started to drain. “The tattoo interested me the most. It looked like henna, but I know ink can be made from walnut shells and blueberries and tree bark, so I wouldn’t want to guess what her horns plus wheels was made from.”

“The mark of the beast,” Frank said.

“I got more of a hero-worship vibe of their yet-to-be-seen leader than a religious one.” She chewed her lip. “I need to get back in there and find out if Joanne is still inside.”

“Are you sure that was pork you ate? Was anyone named Donner?”

Giulia made a horrified moan. Frank took her phone, laughing, so she could dry her feet.

“You have an evil streak, Mr. Driscoll.”

“It keeps our marriage exciting.”

“Are you sure you didn’t marry me for my Pelvis of the Future?” She paused the recording, then changed her mind. “One last thing: I’m certain that particular mother and her boys were hand-picked to make me feel comfortable. I’m also certain she gave my date a report on my aptitude for pig feeding and spinning the minute I left.”

“Logical and creepy.”

“Yes and yes.” She stopped recording for real this time. “It is now time to use an excess of technology simply because I can.”

Frank said, “Assassin’s Creed? Madden? I’ve got it: Halo 5. You turn on the air conditioner and I’ll drag out the ice cream maker Sidney gave us for the wedding.”

Thirty-Two

Giulia lay awake at two a.m. lamenting her lack of a personal drone to fly over the compound and take surveillance photos. The community members would probably consider it more Big Brother spying and use it for target practice. Ultra-light stealth technology was no match for multiple firearms in skilled hands.

She laid a hand on her stomach. Five weeks was too soon to feel the baby move. She squashed an irrational fear of turning into a fanatical religious parent like her brother.

They ought to think about real names for the baby, because Zlatan was not happening.

Maybe an invitation to return to the happy-happy community waited in her dating site inbox. She’d check it before leaving for work tomorrow. Rather, today. She had to get some sleep.

Frank rolled over, flopped an arm over her chest and a leg over her knees, and snored.

Giulia relaxed.

At 8:40 a.m. Giulia logged in to her dating site account. No message from Wild Eyes, but two videos graphic enough to sour her coffee, plus three that seemed boring and normal by comparison. A trickle of worry inched along her spine.

Zane knocked on her doorframe and held out a sheet of paper.

Giulia took it. “Is this the fruit of your super-sized cranium?”

“It is. You did not hire me in vain.”

She ran a finger down the list of Joanne’s usernames and passwords. “You bet I didn’t.”

Cup of coffee number one sustained her through the videos and messages Joanne received on the twin site. Most were similar enough to Maria Martin’s offers to make Giulia pretty sure a website existed with come-on scripts for the taking.

One hour in, Giulia tried the mainstream site, the one that hadn’t gotten her own alias much action. Not so for Joanne. An entire football roster of males fitting the target profile wanted Joanne. She scrolled through several messages from sallow, whiny young men in gamer t-shirts sitting on identical couches in identical basement apartments. Only the upholstery and wallpaper differed.

When she entered the Prepper site, Worried Giulia and Grossed-out Giulia faded away. Into their place stepped Snap-to-Attention Giulia. This Giulia stared at a photograph of Chef Eddie, magically slimmer and with the start of a chin-strap beard. Was he trying to create a real-life
Shop Around the Corner
/
You’ve Got Mail
romance?

Chef Eddie brought more magic, because three clicks later Giulia found a familiar photo of Alex the gardener in full Wild Eyes mode. Confirmation that Joanne also possessed The Pelvis.

She read through the messages between them. Diane didn’t snag all the street smarts in the Philbey family. Joanne’s replies mirrored Giulia’s: Polite caution and no personal contact until after a preliminary mating dance.

Larabee of the cow neighbors left messages and his profile picture shaved five years and ten pounds off his actual self. At least he stopped a centimeter short of a D-pic. Now there was a term Giulia could have lived without knowing.

She backtracked to Chef Eddie’s string.

Ouch. One reply couldn’t be called a string. Joanne’s words were careful and polite. Double ouch. The next few mornings at work must have been the epitome of awkward.

Larabee’s string. Hold it. Larabee and Joanne actually dated. Why resort to this online business?

Joanne’s first reply reflected Giulia’s perplexity: “Louis, what’s this all about?” An embarrassed and convoluted reply followed, amounting to “You only look at me like a hunting buddy. I need to make you see me outside your comfort zone.”

So that was the start of the brief relationship. They’d stopped messaging after that, unfortunately for Giulia’s investigation. Score one for Larabee not lying, at least.

Her reading had taken her nearly to noon. Maria Martin had to have a second invitation to the happy tattooed bacon farm by this time. She opened another tab and logged in to her undercover account. Success. The message informed her that the community invited Maria Martin back to experience the life of the world as it would be sooner than anyone thought. With that in mind, they would expect her tomorrow afternoon. If she could not get the entire day off work, she should let them know what time in the evening she could reasonably get out to the community.

She patted her hips. Thank you, Pelvis of the Future.

After a series of stretches, she opened her door. “Is anyone going out to lunch?”

“I am,” Sidney said. “The barbecue truck is by the park fountain today.”

A beat.

“What?” Giulia and Zane said.

“What do you mean, what? They make a great Southwestern salad.”

“You had us worried.” Giulia handed her a ten. “Take my money, please. The baby wants pulled pork.”

Giulia left the office at three and drove to her brother’s street. Her slim hope of catching her niece outside on a summer afternoon playing with her babysitting charges withered like the patches of phlox around the streetlights.

A group of grade-school kids kicked a soccer ball and four preschoolers ran squealing through a sprinkler on lawns in various stages of chemical perfection. Two old women rocked and talked on a front porch. The soccer ball headed for the street. A mail carrier in standard issue gray-blue shorts kicked it dead center into the miniature net. Half the kids cheered. The other half groaned.

Her brother’s lawn needed mowing. Verdigris bloomed in Christ’s armpits on the gigantic bronze crucifix obscuring the front door. The blinds were closed, but so were the blinds of the houses on either side, now that the afternoon sun hit the windows like a battery of lasers.

She gave it up after turning and casing the block a second time. For all she knew, her brother had the family on high alert for the Nunmobile and had barricaded them all inside. If that was the case, he probably had them on their knees praying another rosary. What a memorable summer vacation.

Since she couldn’t get new information from her niece, she rounded the corner and pulled over to the curb to text Frank.

Headed back to Penn Hills overnight. Is there any way you can get me into my SIL’s hospital room late tomorrow? I want to ask her some questions.  ue

Just because today’s long shot failed didn’t mean her backup plan would necessarily fail too. She signaled left and pulled into traffic. Another left and she aimed for the highway and a second overnight stay in Penn Hills.