Second To Nun (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 2) (2 page)

Two

Giulia and her new client walked side by side downstairs and out onto the sidewalk. Both women dodged a score of hurrying pedestrians.

“Those stairs are an accident waiting to happen. I’m MacAllister Stone. Everyone calls me Mac. Here’s a gap in this insane traffic. Ready to run for it?”

They dashed across the street to the music of honking taxi horns and at least one physically impossible suggestion. Giulia figured Mac to be in her early seventies, but her fitness level shaved off a good twenty years.

“People these days have no manners.” Mac led Giulia past the tanning salon’s wide glass windows and under the New Age shop’s deep purple awning.

The restrained storefront showcased different styles of Tarot decks for sale. A black velvet picture frame enclosed a rate sheet for various types of readings. The awning blocked the June sun, creating a pool of twilight for them to stand in. Mac opened the door and ushered Giulia inside. A bell chimed a single high note.

Opposite them, a huge vase filled with stargazer lilies sat on the floor between two flowered armchairs. The scent of violets hung in the air, but didn’t overpower it. The dark floral carpet and mauve wallpaper completed the color scheme.

“Jasper, you’re a lifesaver,” Mac said to the ponytailed young man behind the counter.

“I can do more than blow stuff up, Aunt Mac.” He held out a prosthetic hand to Giulia. “I’m Jasper Fortin, Lady Rowan’s nephew.”

Giulia shook hands. “I seem to be missing an essential clue here.”

Jasper smiled. “Sorry. Hazard of the profession.” He stepped over to a violet jacquard tapestry hanging in a doorway. “They’re back.”

A fluting voice answered, “Send them in, please.”

He held aside the tapestry, still smiling. “Lady Rowan will see you now.”

Mac led the way into a square, dim room with the same carpeting and wallpaper. A circular table and three Mission-style chairs took up seventy percent of the space.

A dark-haired woman faced them. “Ms. Driscoll, I’m relieved you agreed to come with Mac. Take the right-hand chair, please. Mac, the other is the chair you sat in earlier.”

She pressed a remote control and recessed ceiling lights brightened, banishing the spooky atmosphere. “Much better. Let’s get down to business.”

Giulia sat in the indicated chair, trying to decide whether Lady Rowan was emulating Maria Ouspenskaya in
The Wolf Man
or going for cliché New Age Summer Fashion.

Rowan winked at her. “Certain customers expect the mysterious Hollywood getup, Ms. Driscoll. Mac here likes the whole cosplay treatment. If it were just you and me, I’d wear a business suit. You don’t need the ambiance.”

Giulia gave her points for reading all the nuances of the newcomer’s body language.

“Rowan and I were sorority sisters,” Mac said. “I think she looks adorable in all those scarves and shawls.”

“I’m too old to qualify for adorable. Only because this place has excellent air-conditioning am I sporting the layered look today.” She placed her hands on either side of the complex pattern of Tarot cards on the table. “This isn’t your reading, Ms. Driscoll, so I won’t unpack everything. That would take another half-hour. The reason I sent Mac for you is this combination of the High Priestess, the Hanged Man, and the Moon.”

The many bracelets on her arms jingled as she indicated the cards. “The High Priestess guards the veil of knowledge. When she combines with The Hanged Man in relation to Mac’s situation, the meaning started to become plain to me. When I turned over the Moon card, everything settled into its proper place.”

Giulia turned her polite smile on both of them. “I don’t quite see what’s been settled in relation to Driscoll Investigations.”

Rowan cackled. “That was a beautifully subtle mood-killer. In brief, I told Mac that she was to do nothing without consulting she who uncovers the truth. I called Jasper in here. He’s clairvoyant but needs more practice. He knew right away to whom the cards referred.”

“You see?” Mac said. “The cards and Jasper directed me to you, the former nun. The Veiled Woman. You’re meant to help me.”

Giulia didn’t have Rowan’s people-reading skills, but she knew how to take control of a situation. Step one was to get back on her own turf. “I appreciate your confidence in me. If Lady Rowan will excuse us, we can discuss in my office the possibility of Driscoll Investigations taking you on as a client.”

Rowan smacked the table with one multi-ringed hand. “See, Mac? Ms. Driscoll is already in charge. Go, go. Come back here afterward.”

Mac popped up. “Of course. Ms. Driscoll, I should warn you that I have a wall covered with framed sales awards, and I haven’t lost my touch.”

Giulia stood and smoothed her suit skirt. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Lady Rowan.”

In the outer room, Jasper was marking sale prices on essential oils. Three teenage girls entered the shop, giggling and whispering. Giulia led the way this time and Mac followed.

Three

Giulia closed the door to her private office.

“Mac, what exactly do you hope we can do for you?”

Mac settled in the client chair, a whole head taller than Giulia, even sitting down. “I think my family ghost is trying to evict me.”

Giulia groped for words.

Mac smiled. “You think I’m batty. I know that look. Is it the Tarot or the ghost or both?”

Giulia put an answering smile on her face. “Not at all. I know several people who are skilled in Tarot reading. I was thinking that removing a ghost requires a different type of investigator.”

“Nope.” Mac shook her head with decision. “Rowan and I have been friends since we were seventeen years old. Her skills are the real thing. If she says I need you, I’m not arguing.”

A client referred by Tarot was a first for DI. Giulia wanted to take her on, if only to watch Sidney’s practical head explode. But ghost-hunting?

“Mac, in all seriousness, our usual caseload involves insurance fraud, background checks, and deadbeat parents. Tangible things.”

Mac snorted. “Please. Who should I contact? That ghost chaser who buys infomercial space on late-night TV? The husband and wife team who advertise on Craigslist? No. I need a real private investigator and I want you. Give me ten more minutes of your time to convince you.”

Giulia liked her enough to give her the chance. “Go ahead.”

Mac leaned forward.

“My great-grandfather built Stone’s Throw on Conneaut Lake as his family’s home when he married my great-grandmother. He always wanted to live in a lighthouse. It was never a working one because the lake isn’t deep enough or long enough for real shipping, but that didn’t bother him. He and his wife had eleven children and twenty-seven grandchildren. They scattered all over North America and none of them wanted to take over the old place. It sat empty for two decades before I bought it.”

She brought out an Android phone. “When I retired, I’d been regional manager for a hotel chain for thirty years. I knew I could turn Great-Grandpa’s white elephant into a working bed and breakfast. I had plenty of real-world experience, enough money saved, and excellent credit. I sank everything into the renovations. I’ve been breaking even for seven years, but something’s changed. Please look at these pictures.”

Giulia came around the desk.

Mac held up the phone. “This is the inside of the lighthouse. See the scratches on the stairwell walls? They’re higher than anyone can reach. I’m six foot one and they’re a foot above my fingertips.” She swiped to the next picture and enlarged it. “This is the living room. See behind the drapes? Those aren’t my sheer white curtains.” She swiped again. “This is the attic. I keep all my decorating supplies up here. I have the only key to the attic door. Now look at those cracks in the window facing the lake. Do you see anything?”

Giulia studied the random damage to the glass. All at once a pattern emerged. “It says ‘Mine.’”

“Oh, good. You do see it.” She returned the phone to her straw purse. “I bet you’re going to tell me there are simple, logical explanations for everything I just showed you. Perhaps the scratches are cracks in the old plaster or bird claw marks. Maybe the white curtain is really fog or sea mist. By chance an unseen flaw in manufacture appeared in the glass as it got old. Am I right?”

“I’d want to see everything in person before making that call.”

Mac’s wrinkles all scrunched together from her huge grin. “I was hoping you’d say that. Okay, look. There’s a lot more to this: We have a family tradition of a lost hoard of gold coins that might be involved, plus a psychic I’ve hired to do weekly séances and who’s convinced one of my ancestors has turned into a Woman in White.”

Giulia took a legal pad and a pen out of her center drawer. “We need to start at the beginning.”

“Not here. On the premises is best. I want you to stay at Stone’s Throw. Are you married?”

“Yes.”

“Good. That wasn’t meant to be rude. Stone’s Throw is all about the romantic getaway. If the Veiled Woman comes to me, I know you’ll fix my ghost problem.” She reached into her purse, but came up empty.

Giulia buzzed Zane. “Would you bring Ms. Stone her checkbook, please?”

After Zane closed them in again, Mac gestured for Giulia’s pen. “What are your rates?”

Giulia told her the usual retainer amount and the per-diem fees while Mac wrote a check.

“Here you go, plus your time today. Now.” She pulled Giulia’s legal pad toward her, wrote a dollar figure, and reversed the pad. “This is my offer for you and your husband to evict whoever or whatever is trying to ruin my business.”

Frank would’ve whistled. Giulia restrained herself. “That’s serious money.”

“Nobody alive or dead is going to force me into a retirement home to crochet afghans until my brain atrophies. Today’s Thursday. I have a free room starting tomorrow night. I’ll keep it open for you and your husband. I don’t want my obituary to read ‘Death by Ghost.’”

Four

Giulia went straight to the window after her new client left. Mac crossed the street and headed directly for the Tarot shop.

“Giulia.” Sidney’s plaintive voice reached out to her. “You are a cruel boss to leave us in suspense. You have to tell us what the Tarot client said.”

Giulia turned to face the room. Zane and Sidney weren’t even pretending to work. They turned their chairs to her and leaned forward in tandem.

“She thinks her house is haunted.”

Sidney snorted. “You’re kidding. There’s no such things as ghosts.”

“She’s quite serious.”

Sidney’s suspicion eyebrow went up. “She looked pretty happy when she left. Did she hire us?”

“She did. I will be heading to Stone’s Throw Bed and Breakfast, possibly tomorrow, to thwart either a cranky ghost or a phony psychic.”

For half a second Giulia thought Sidney’s head really was going to explode.

“Zane, tell her there’s no such things as ghosts. You’re the computer brain in a human shell.”

Zane didn’t answer for a moment. “I’m not prepared to give a definitive answer on the subject.”

Giulia cut off Sidney’s reply. “Why not?”

“I’ve never experienced anything supernatural, but my grandmother told us a lot of stories. Half of them could’ve been made up to scare us on a summer night. But if the others were even partially true, there’s some weird shit out there. I beg your pardon.”

“That’s okay. Mac mentioned something called a Woman in White.”

Zane nodded. “
La Llorona
.”

“Who?” Sidney said.

“It’s a spirit legend in dozens of countries. Sometimes it’s considered an omen of death.”

“If she hired the psychic to conjure up this death omen once a week to entertain the guests, it was an extra good marketing choice on her part,” Giulia said. “Anyway, now she’s found what she thinks are evidences of an actual haunting.”

Zane frowned. “If she has a poltergeist, why is she talking to us? Oh, right. The Tarot reader across the street told her to. Do you know her? Him?”

“No, but our reputation preceded us. When the Tarot reader told Mac to do nothing until she consulted the veiled woman, the reader’s nephew pointed her over here.” Giulia snagged one of Zane’s retro pink “While You Were Out” notepads and wrote two names. “Can you check Rowan Fortin for fraud and otherwise bilking the gullible, and can you find out if Jasper has a war record? He has a prosthetic hand and dropped a casual remark about explosions, but that means nothing.”

Sidney dragged a hand over her face. “We don’t hunt ghosts. Right? Please say I’m right.”

Giulia tried not to enjoy Sidney’s theatrics, without success. “Correct. But we do hunt humans who commit clever acts of vandalism with the goal of perhaps getting their hands on prime waterfront property. Mac’s place is on Conneaut Lake.”

As he typed, Zane said, “I’ve been there. It’s a typical quaint tourist trap, but all the hotels and bars were packed every night.”

“I suppose the psychic is her drawing card. Movie night isn’t enough entertainment for the price of a bed and breakfast.”

A strangled squeak from Sidney. “What are we going to do out there? Get an EMF meter to whirr and beep as we wave it at dark corners in the basement?”

“Wait a minute, Ms. Skeptic,” Giulia said. “How do you know about EMF detectors?”

“Olivier watches those ghost hunter shows. He says it relaxes him.” She made a gagging face.

“
We
are not going to do this. I am,” Giulia said. “You know I don’t take on extra work only to dump it in your laps. I’ll go up to Conneaut Lake tomorrow. Hopefully Frank will be able to get the next few days off and join me. Stone’s Throw is a non-working lighthouse. Our new client carried out massive renovations when she bought the place. I’m confident I’ll find a bunch of creaking boards and settling foundations as the cause of her haunting.”

“Why the overnight stay, then?” Zane’s voice was distant as he read his screen.

“It’s not the ghost I’m concerned about; it’s the psychic. Mac might be cutthroat in sales, but her weakness for psychics is like a bright red target painted on her back.”

More typing from Zane. “Speaking as one with a mortgage and utility bills every month, a steady gig is a good thing. Why would her psychic mess with it?”

“Mac also mentioned a family legend of buried gold.”

Sidney said, “Greed. People suck. Now that I’m running my own house I’m suspicious of anything that remotely smells like a scam. You remember that driveway repair guy who tried to fast-talk Mom and Dad into putting gunk all over the store’s parking lot?”

“Didn’t he just get arrested?” Zane said.

“You bet, and I was one of the ones who blew him in. It cost the old folks at the next farm four thousand dollars to repair the damage he did to their place.” She sat up straighter. “So, my lesson for the day is: Don’t trust anybody.”

“It’s getting so I can’t argue with that advice,” Giulia said.

“Ms. D., preliminary sleuthing results in good news and bad news,” Zane said. “The bad news is Rowan Fortin, born Matilda Jane but changed her name legally on her eighteenth birthday, has never been indicted for fraud. Her last business tanked in 2002 and she filed for bankruptcy. She fell off the radar until 2010, when she opened a Tarot reading shop in Wilkes-Barre. The local newspaper ran a series of articles in 2013 on a mall developer’s land grab in which many small businesses were forced to relocate because of massive rent hikes. She moved to Cottonwood last summer and opened up the place across the street. Nothing since.”

Giulia frowned. “My hunches can’t be right all the time. What’s the good news?”

“Jasper Fortin is a decorated war veteran who saved the lives of five fellow soldiers when he lost his hand. Uh…much technical jargon and…summarizing it with war hero, great guy, women everywhere want to marry him. Worst thing I can find? Facebook pics of a tattoo on an R-rated body part.”

Giulia made an “eh” gesture. “Just once I’d like an easy suspect. At least my hunches are redeemed. I got a good vibe from him.”

Sidney spoke through her cupped hands, creating a hollow voice. “Maybe he hypnotized you.”

“Or his prosthetic hand implanted a control chip in mine when we shook hands.” She shook her head. “I have to stop watching so many late-night sci-fi movies.”