Nun But The Brave (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 3) (16 page)

Without a smidge of guilt, Giulia played him like he was her flute. “I’m not in the confidence of the police. How long has it been since you spoke to Joanne?”

His long, thin hands picked at the defenseless napkin. “Months. It’s been months. She stopped returning my calls after
Le Nozze di Figaro
. That was the end of March. I sent her flowers for her birthday and when she didn’t call to thank me I gave up.” He saw the napkin confetti and placed his hands flat on the narrow table. “Joanne bakes cakes. Have you seen them? We have a new stage manager who came from someplace in Ohio, and for our Christmas party she ordered this incredible cake decorated like the ball scene from
Die Fledermaus
. We were so impressed we offered the baker tickets to any opera of her choice. When she came, our stage manager brought her back to introduce her to the cast. She brought cupcakes for us and they were almost better than sex.”

Giulia kept her face impassive. “I am aware of Joanne’s side business baking cakes.”

He spoke faster. “I like women with meat on their bones, so I asked her out for a drink. She was shy; I’m your classic extrovert. She’s tone-deaf, can you believe it? She could only appreciate one of my talents.” He winked, but his hands refused to stay still.

“How long did your relationship last?” Giulia stiffened her spine to convent posture and projected Teacher During Exam Time.

Kurt looked around at his framed posters as though Rossini and Mozart could give him inspiration. “A few months. Only off and on, you know? She had two jobs with wacky hours. She’d come hear me sing when she could and we’d shack up for a couple of days. She cooked everything I challenged her to. I tried to educate her on opera. She tried to get me to watch those parody movies, the really dumb ones.”

“Is that why she cut off contact? Because you tried to educate her?”

“No, no, it wasn’t like that. You make it sound like I thought I was better than her or she was stupid. She’s smart and talented and so am I. I used to watch her cook. She could make magic with eggs and bacon and herbs and French bread.”

Interesting. Giulia had been wondering how the three of them fit into bed: Kurt, Joanne, and Kurt’s ego. While the question still applied, Kurt seemed to be the one person in Joanne’s life who wasn’t in take-take-take mode.

“The last time you saw Joanne, what was she like? Secretive? Worried? The same as usual?”

He frowned. “No, not worried. She came to closing night of
Carmen
and we went to the cast party. The chorus complained when she didn’t bring cake, but I shut the idiots down. We went back to my place for the night, but she left right after breakfast.” He opened the Oreo package again and ate two in a single bite each. “I was going to talk to her about sticking together long-term. When she never called me back after about ten voicemails, I figured she wasn’t into me anymore. Funny, but I thought she wasn’t the type of person who dumps and runs.” He looked straight at Giulia. “When did she disappear?”

“The first week of April.”

He tapped a third cookie on the counter, each tap spraying chocolate crumbs. “Rip off the Band-Aid for me: Do you think Joanne’s dead?”

Giulia gave him an honest answer. “I’m not sure. She may have chosen to disappear or she may have been abducted, or she may have been robbed and murdered.”

He flinched. “I asked for that.”

“Thank you for your assistance.” Giulia set down the tall tea glass.

He started. Perhaps he expected further interrogation. Perhaps he wondered if her next stop was the local police station to report on him. Both ideas pleased her. She didn’t get a negative vibe from him, except for the Texas-sized ego, but he might think he was safe because he thought she couldn’t access his phone records.

He ate the remains of the cookie. “When you find her, will you tell her to call me?”

Thirty-Five

Back home after checking in with Sidney and Zane, who reported a normal busy day, Giulia composed a reply to Alex’s order to appear at the Hedge of Separation.

She’d better stop thinking in video game terminology or she’d laugh at the wrong time and things would get awkward.

“It’s short notice, but I’m able to switch shifts with two different people for the next two days.”

His reply icon dinged on the screen within two minutes. Alex wasn’t completely off grid either.

“Very good. Here are the rules for a longer stay:

1. Immersion is required. This means you are expected to help with any and all chores as needed.

2. You must agree not to divulge any details regarding the community to outsiders.

3. No technology of any kind, including cell phones.

Do you agree to these rules?”

Giulia chewed her bottom lip. The no cell phone rule could be part of Technology Bad, Simple Life Good, if one ignored the plain fact of Alex using an internet dating site to find new pelvises. Pelvii? Her Latin had gone downhill in a big way since she’d left the convent. Although she’d never been asked to conjugate “pelvis” for her students, not even in Sex Ed.

No cell phones could also mean some members of the community didn’t want themselves outed. To their friends? On the internet? The mom of teenagers said her parents knew of their participation, but she could be the exception.

If she tried to sneak her phone in, would they search her? She couldn’t afford to risk getting the boot. She had her answer, then. The cell phone was a deal-breaker. Time to play hard ball.

“I can only switch shifts at such short notice if I stay on call. I’m really sorry, but I can’t afford to lose my job. Thank you anyway for the invitation.”

She sat back and watched the screen. How valuable was her Pelvis of the Future to him and his leader?

Thirty seconds later, she had her answer.

“I’ll contact the others and get back to you.”

Giulia grinned. Who would have guessed her skeletal dimensions possessed such value to total strangers? Not her, certainly. Where would it have belonged on her resume? Not under experience or education or professional awards. Such an asset deserved its own category.

No instant reply this time. She went into the kitchen to prepare her own sourdough starter as a sacrifice to gain the goodwill of this almighty community leader. When she located her sixteen-ounce glass measuring cup behind the milk in the fridge, she covered it with plastic wrap—the horror! Machine-processed kitchen supplies! When she checked her screen again, a message icon waited for her.

“The community agrees to make a temporary exception for your cell phone because the need is work-related. Make certain it is completely charged as none of our houses are wired for electricity. Immersion for two days includes not returning to your car to use its battery. When you arrive, please mute the ringer and set it to vibrate only so none of the other members are disturbed. Because this is a trial visit, you will not be expected to provide any supplies other than your own sleeping bag and toothbrush. The community members will share their toothpaste and soap with you so you may see how we will be living in the near future. Reply with your approximate time of arrival.”

Giulia’s reaction to this series of totalitarian dicta proved she was not the all-passive-all-the-time person she used to be. She was conscious of a strong desire to beat Alex and his community leader with a wooden ruler until it snapped.

After supper, she sat Frank on the couch and explained what she’d be doing on this sleepover.

“I’ve set them up to expect my evil, greedy corporate employers to wreck my visit to the future. Can you text me at eleven o’clock Wednesday morning with an urgent summons to go into work? I want a real message to show these people.”

Frank rubbed his buzz-cut. “Do you know how much I want to send VanHorne and me in there with you as your bodyguards?”

“And destroy this cover I’ve spent so much time on?”

“Hold it. We have the same last name. They’ll suspect something’s wonky.”

She shook her head. “So young and so forgetful. My name for this adventure is Maria Martin.”

He echoed the name as soon as she got out the first syllable. “I’ll go download one of those apps that improve your memory.”

“Besides,” Giulia said with mock relish, “bodyguards would seriously cramp my style with all the males who want to be my new best friend and bed companion.”

Frank’s smile was less than sincere. “Part of me is proud of my hot wife. Every other part of me wants to smash heads.” Conversation stopped for some kissing. “I told the guys about your dating site experiences. I never saw grown men laugh so hard.”

“There’s no privacy in my life at all, is there?”

“Think of the unexpected joy you’re bringing to the hard-working men and women in Precinct Nine.” His smile faded. “Please tell me you know the exact location of this miniature Utopia.”

She snapped her fingers. “I knew I forgot something.” She unlocked her phone and checked the pin she’d dropped when she left the hedge the other night. “Well, well, well. Look at this.” She turned the phone so Frank could see.

“North-northwest from here in the middle of farms and woods. You don’t have anything more specific?”

“I don’t need to.” She enlarged the map, which revealed only Rural Route numbers. “The directions Alex of the wild eyes gave me for their Prepper community had me circle up and around to find the entrance. His two acres of land are right along here.” She pointed to an empty space on one of the routes. “Alex and the almighty leader are in each other’s pockets.”

“This Alex sold land to the dictator, you think?”

Giulia shrank the map to see more of the surrounding streets, except there weren’t any. “Cow country. You have to love it. Wait; I got distracted. I was going to say something.”

“Selling land,” Frank repeated.

“No. Oh, I remember. An anomaly keeps appearing in my research on this case. I’ve been shelving it because it won’t slot into my data.”

“You can’t figure out how they make tin foil hats without using tin foil?” He held up a hand before she replied. “Better yet, you’ve found secret data proving all the Preppers are chipped and tagged like wild animals on those nature shows, and their new Utopia will turn out to be a covert government experiment in hive-mind research.”

Giulia grinned. “Video games are warping your brain. I’m talking about twins. My missing person is a twin. Alex asked if I was a twin. I made up a backstory about a twin sister killed in high school by a drunk driver.”

“You hardened sinner.”

She scrunched her face at him. “Father Carlos understands me. My point about twins, assuming their appearance is a legitimate aspect of my search, is: What if the community leader is Alex’s twin?”

“And they’re recruiting only twins because of deep-seated whatevers in their psychological makeup?”

Giulia stared through the walls. “I’m trying to recall if the teenage football players were identical.”

“Won’t a group of twins intermarrying twins do strange things to the future gene pool?”

“Don’t ask me. I taught sex education, not biology. I should talk to Olivier about cult mentality before I immerse.” She dialed Sidney’s number.

“You’re going to Sidney’s family farm in July? I married a brave woman.”

Thirty-Six

Five hundred feet before the alpaca farm entrance, Giulia remembered why visiting the farm in July was a triple threat. It smashed together a field trip to a petting zoo, a farmer’s market, and a Christmas village.

Custom signs with the alpacas dressed as Santa, Mrs. Claus, and various elves lined the road. As soon as she turned into the driveway, she heard Christmas carols playing from speakers mounted on the gift shop porch. Every window, door, and square inch of land twinkled, spun, glittered, or bobbed.

The seven alpacas all wore jingle bell collars. They looked less than pleased, but Giulia made allowances for their full coats in this heat. Shearing wasn’t until the first week of August so all the Christmas in July visitors could see fluffy adorable alpacas, not shaved alien beasts.

Nine cars were parked in front of the gift shop. Three small children clung to the fence and squealed as they read the alpacas’ collars.

“Mama, they all have Christmas names. Aren’t they pretty? Can we take one home?” The alpacas projected disdain. The parents changed the subject.

Giulia drove past the gift shop and barn to the back cottage. Sidney’s husband Olivier was weeding a vegetable garden three times the size of Giulia’s. Sidney was weeding the flowers surrounding the cottage and talking nonstop to Jessamine sitting in a stroller next to her. Giulia parked and walked straight over to the baby, who cooed and held up her arms.

“Hello, sweetie.” Giulia unstrapped Jessamine and tossed her in the air. The baby giggled. Her bright yellow dress floated around her ears and the sparkling red and green bows in her dark hair wiggled. Giulia caught her and kissed her chubby cheeks.

“I just fed her,” Sidney said. “Be careful she doesn’t spit up on you.”

“I’ll have to get used to it soon. Her hair is curlier than the last time I saw her.”

“Do you like the bows?” Sidney stood and bent in half backwards. “Ah, spinal cracks. So good.”

“Has she pulled any out yet and given herself a meal of glitter?”

“We haven’t caught her yet. The customers love it.”

“If you don’t need a light tonight to change her diaper, you’ll have your answer.” Giulia cradled Jessamine in one arm and tickled her with the other hand.

Sidney took out her phone and typed. “Why didn’t we think to add glitter to the fertilizer bags for the Christmas market? I’m texting dad right now.”

“Sparkling unscented alpaca poop. What every gardener wants in their stocking on Christmas morning.”

Olivier walked through the corn toward them, hoe in hand. Next to Sidney, they became a copy of the famous painting
American Gothic
, if those farmers had worn
The Avengers
and
X-Men
t-shirts. Olivier gave his daughter triple raspberries on her belly. Jessamine shrieked and wiggled with laughter.

“Will we be feeding the delightful beasts glitter or will we add it in the gathering stage?” he said.

Sidney typed into her phone. “Only if I can find some in bulk from an organic florist.” She tried to enlarge the website on her screen. “Forget it. I need a real computer for searching.” She took the baby from Giulia. “Let’s pick flowers for Aunt Giulia to take home while she and daddy talk shop.”

The inside of their cottage was Christmas-free. Not a Christmas elf herself, Giulia found the return to midsummer relaxing.

Olivier poured water for them both. “Let us discuss the mysterious inner workings of the cult mentality.”

“Olivier, have you forgotten I spent ten years in the convent?”

“I have not. However, convents are celibate. This place you’re investigating is set up as a colony. They perceive themselves as the founders of a new America. Or a new theocracy. Did you get a strong sense of religion when you were there?”

“Let’s call it hero-worship.” She paraphrased the series of messages she received today. “How else do you explain a varied group of sensible adults who relinquish their mental and physical freedom with a smile?”

“Did they smile?’

Giulia shuddered. “All the time. Everyone was happy and helpful and welcoming. Even the teenage boys who had to give up their football game did chores without whining.”

“I wish I could use those techniques on the wooly beasts out there.”

“Are they still spitting at you?”

“Not as often. They like Jessamine, so they treat me better when she’s riding on my shoulders.” He smiled. “I could work up an entire case history on them involving antisocial tendencies, gender intolerance, and social anxiety.”

Giulia pictured lawsuits. “They don’t spit on the kids clinging to the fences, do they?”

“No, thank God, even though no one pays attention to the signs everywhere telling visitors not to pet the alpacas.” He got up and gestured to Giulia’s glass. “Refill?”

“I’m good. If I were theoretically going to a Doomsday Prepper slumber party tomorrow, what survival advice would you give me?”

Tiny lines gathered around the corners of his mouth. “Don’t.”

She smiled. “Part of the job.”

The lines deepened. “Do you have an exit plan?”

“Yes. Frank is going to text me with a work emergency at eleven a.m. Wednesday.”

The lines retreated. “I respect your brains. All right, here’s my generalized analysis of cults and Preppers and why sharing my life with seven aggressive mounds of walking fur is preferable to living with either.” He passed her a pen and paper. “First: Groupthink.”

“Shades of
1984.”

“Actually, no. The term sounds Orwellian, but it was coined by William H. Whyte three years after
1984
was published.”

Giulia clutched an imaginary string of pearls. “I’ve lost the right to call myself a teacher of English.”

“Sidney would blame it on baby brain. To continue. Cults foster exclusivity, setting themselves apart from the world, and the sense of being one of the chosen few. Members believe they’re special and the leaders work to bolster that belief. Therefore, they happily imbibe the group’s way of speaking, dressing, behaving, and thinking.”

“And it’s all good.”

“In their eyes.”

Giulia drank more water. “You realize you’re describing my entire convent experience.”

He hesitated. “I’ve never told you how tempted I am to ask you to be a case study in my ongoing effort to get published in
Psychology Today.
”

“We’ll talk after I extricate myself from the Stepford Doomsday Crazies.”

Olivier’s grin made her grin back. This kind, perceptive man brought out the best in almost everyone he met. But for now…

“Twins,” Giulia said. “My client is a twin. One of the Prepper families possibly has twin sons. During my first date with one of the Preppers—don’t laugh, it was research for this case—he asked me if I was a twin and talked about his twin sisters.”

She watched Olivier regroup. “Fascinating. The only twin deities I can think of are Romulus and Remus, the mythological founders of Rome.” He tapped a finger on his lips. “A twin fetish, perhaps. I’m inclined to the religion aspect, but I’d have to research more gods.”

“Castor and Pollux, Apollo and Artemis.” Giulia stopped herself. “Anyway, research is my job.”

“Fair enough. If the place you’re infiltrating is collecting twins, I would kiss all seven of those beasts outside for a chance to analyze their leader.” He glanced out the window. “Maybe I’d kiss five of them.”

“Only if you’re prepared for YouTube fame.” Giulia added twin god mythology—does Alex have a secret dominant twin?—to her notes. “In a perfect world we’d have the money to keep you on retainer.”

“Speaking of perfect worlds, the second major point of my analysis is the divine mandate to create a perfect future.”

A groan from Giulia. “Not more religion.”

“It’s always religion.” Olivier leaned forward. “Either an established god has spoken to the cult leader or the leader himself is their god.”

“Are you seriously claiming everyone who wants to establish a survival group has a god complex?”

Olivier shook his head. “No, but isolating and reconditioning the followers tends to make them look on the leader as their personal Jesus Christ. Continual worship works on the leader’s mind until he starts to think he can walk on water and raise the dead. No offense.”

“None taken. At least I have a secret weapon: I’m intimately familiar with Jesus Christ.”

Olivier’s laughter brought Sidney and the baby inside with a bunch of bright yellow jessamine flowers tied with one of the baby’s glitter bows.