Second To Nun (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 2) (18 page)

Thirty-Five

After Frank and Mac left, Giulia plunged into frantic research on her phone. Of all times not to be near a fingerprint kit. Although only a psychic might have thought to bring one. Where was Lady Rowan when Giulia could have used her?

Unfruitful train of thought. If Lady Rowan could have predicted the need for capturing fingerprints, Solana might have tuned into that same astral wave. Of course, if they were working together to scare Mac out of business…

Google came through for her before she got stuck on that particular hamster wheel. Giulia had access to all the ingredients in this simple emergency fingerprint how-to. She raided the kitchen’s junk drawer for cellophane tape and the pantry for cornstarch. She breathed a quick prayer to Saint Jude that the saboteur hadn’t included cornstarch in his or her list of necessary breakfast foods to destroy.

Untouched. Giulia breathed a sigh of relief and
poofed
up a cloud of the stuff. She screwed the lid back on an instant before she sneezed.

Okay. Fridge closed. Febreze sprayed with generosity in the narrow kitchen space. Giulia turned off the lights and walked upstairs to her room. No one else was on the first and second floors, so she didn’t need to waste time pretending to be casual. She grabbed her makeup brush and ran downstairs, jumping over the creaky steps.

First floor still empty. She flicked the kitchen lights back on and searched for something dark to tape fingerprints to. Envelopes. Too bright. Empty orange juice carton, the same. Plastic grocery bag, too wrinkly. She opened a thin cabinet door tucked into the far corner and discovered a stash of paper grocery bags.

Girding her figurative loins, she opened the refrigerator again. The stench hit her like a semi at sixty-five miles per hour. She squeezed shut watering eyes and opened them five seconds later, ready to work.

The milk first. She found one more essential item not on the helpful website: Hot pads to protect the plastic from her own skin oils.

One: Dip brush in cornstarch.

Two: Dust cornstarch over all sides of plastic jug.

Three: Apply strip after strip of tape and pray to Saint…

Giulia had no idea which saint was the patron of clear fingerprint lifts.

Twelve minutes in and most of one roll of tape, Giulia got a clean print. Index or middle finger, it looked like. Energized, she peeled the tape off with the precision of a surgeon. At least of the surgeons she’d seen on primetime TV.

Four: Apply tape to brown grocery bag.

The internet didn’t lie. She’d lifted a legible fingerprint.

Palpable stenches and all, Giulia stuck her head into the fridge for her next test object. Perhaps the fruit drawer. She brushed cornstarch on the top of the handle and tore off a strip of tape to fit its entire length.

Three…two…one…The tape popped like bubble wrap, cornstarch puffing in all directions.

Giulia almost cursed until she spotted the maple syrup bottle. Hot pads on; bottle to counter. The dangly green filaments sloshed against the white puffballs as the syrup settled. She’d never been so grateful for her cast-iron stomach.

Now. Smaller pieces of tape. She went with the obvious: A right-handed food-spoiler would pick up the handle of the heavy gallon jug with the right hand and balance it with the left. One cornstarch-loaded makeup brush later, she used up most of the tape in columns three inches on either side of where her own fingerprints would hit.

She repeated “Easy…easy” to herself as she peeled away each strip of tape. Another print appeared close to the top of the second column. She transferred it to the paper bag. Near the bottom, half a print.

That was the last of them, though. She tried the orange juice, the meat drawer, and the plastic wrap around the bacon and ham, but no luck. As a last resort, she pulled five whole and partial prints from the refrigerator door handles and taped them all to the bag.

Her nose thanked her for closing the refrigerator. Before she cleaned anything, she took several pictures of the fingerprints, making sure to steady her elbows on the counter to increase her chances of one sharp picture of each. Then she wiped down everything twice since cornstarch clung to surfaces almost as bad as baking cocoa did.

She was wringing out the dishcloth when Frank and Mac returned.

Frank carried two boxes labeled “Apples” and Mac carried one from a lettuce grower. All three of them set everything from the boxes on the counter and as one they took a deep breath and opened the fridge.

“It’s worse than I remembered,” Frank said.

Mac pulled out the fruit drawer in silence and dumped the oranges into the bag Giulia held out for her. One went
splat
and everyone cringed, but no juices fountained out.

Frank and Mac emptied everything into plastic trash bags. Giulia tied them up and set them in the back corner, away from the doorway leading to the big kitchen/reception area. While Mac washed out the flour and sugar jars and the butter dish, Giulia mixed vinegar and water and wiped down the refrigerator.

Mac’s voice broke the silence. “Thank you both for helping with this.”

Giulia exchanged relieved glances with Frank. “We’re not exactly guests.”

Mac banged the flour jar on the counter. “This ghost is costing me more money every week.”

Giulia opened a bag of flour and poured it into the clean jar. “Ghosts don’t leave fingerprints.”

Frank gave her a thumbs-up.

Mac appeared to really see Giulia for the first time since they returned with fresh groceries. “You found fingerprints?”

Giulia pointed to the edge of the brown bag up on top of the refrigerator, out of the way. “Five complete prints and three partials, mostly from the door handle. Mine will be on the handle for sure, but they’re already on file. So are yours now, from Saturday’s robbery.”

Mac set down the clean and dry sugar canister. “Lucy’s will be on there too.” She covered a fresh stick of butter and looked around the kitchen. “The only food or drink I want to pre-set tonight is a glass of wine in my own living room.”

Giulia picked up the grocery bag with care. “I used up all your tape.”

“I’ll deduct it from your fee.” Mac managed a feeble smile.

Thirty-Six

Up in their room, Giulia set the paper bag at the bottom of her suitcase and flopped across the bed. Frank came out of the bathroom drying his hands.

“You sure know how to show a guy a good time, lady.”

“I bet you thought married life with a former nun would be all dull and pious.”

“I did wonder if you might need to relearn how to have fun.” He flopped next to her. “I’m even too tired to check my fantasy stats. By the way, where did you learn that fingerprint trick?”

She held up her phone. “Google is my friend.”

“I could’ve used that a few times in my career.” He yawned. “Want to crawl into bed smelling like vinegar and mold or shall we shower first?”

“When you put it that way, I vote shower.”

Two in the morning. Again.

At least it wasn’t the weeping ghost this time. Giulia lay in bed listening to moans and creaks until she was both wide awake and ticked off.

She tucked the covers around Frank and crawled out of bed. Easing open the dresser drawer, she put on the first t-shirt and shorts her hands touched. Then, phone in hand and flashlight app ready, she opened their room door.

The noises paused, then restarted. Upstairs. One of the empty rooms or the attic. She debated going to the kitchen for salt, but she’d spent last Halloween with her friend Sister Bart’s family and they’d given her an education. Salt alone wasn’t enough to banish a spirit. It had to be combined with certain herbs, and her middle-of-the-night brain wasn’t giving up the information.

Fine. She’d sit down with this Stone family ghost and invite it to air its grievances. Ever since Giulia had put on the habit, people opened up to her like she was a confidential advice columnist. That hadn’t changed post-convent. So if Giulia schooled her anger into quiescence, this ghost might talk to her.

She watched her certainty that a human agency was the cause of all the B&B’s troubles waver and sputter. Two a.m. was not a propitious time for rational thought.

Then she climbed the stairs to the third floor. The moans got louder. The design of the hallways and stairwells confused the ears. Giulia tiptoed to the foot of the narrow attic stairs. Yes, the moans came from up there…wait…they came from behind her. To her left. Upstairs.

A hand grasped her shoulder. She jumped and ducked away and stifled a scream as she brought up her phone flashlight.

Frank flung his arm over his eyes.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

Giulia waved her arm all around her. “Don’t you hear it?”

At that moment, the groans and creaks took on a definite, faster rhythm. From behind the closed door facing Giulia, a woman’s voice gasped out obscene commands.

Frank put his arms around Giulia. “Let’s get back to bed.”

Angry and mortified, Giulia stalked down the stairs, halting Frank right before the step that cracked. Only when they reached the safety of the Sand Dollar room did she notice her icy feet and burning face.

Giulia stripped off her shorts and dived under the covers in her t-shirt. Frank climbed in wearing his sweatpants.

“What was that all about?” he said.

Giulia stared up at the lace canopy. “I thought the two a.m. ghost was back.”

“If that’s a pair of ghosts replaying their last moments on earth, they died happy. Besides, didn’t you say your ghost was a weeper?”

“Yes, but I thought it was performing a new trick.”

Frank put his arm over her midsection. “Wait. Now you think there really is a ghost?”

Giulia shoved her pillow over her face. “I don’t know what to think.” A moment later she slid it up over her head. “No. I take that back. I do know what to think: Somebody is trying to muddy the issue by cooking up a two a.m. haunting. If they’re targeting me then I need a refresher class in going undercover. If it’s one of the couples, I’m crossing off CeCe and Roy after tonight. If it’s Walter, then he has more ambition than you gave him credit for.” Giulia yawned. “How am I coherent at this hour? Who did I leave out?”

Frank yawned a second later. “If I was coherent, I’d suggest we make our own haunting like that couple upstairs.” He yawned again. “How about tomorrow night?” He pulled her against him. A few seconds later, he was snoring.

The scream brought Giulia to her feet out of a restless sleep. She checked the clock: Three a.m. this time.

At least it wasn’t her personal weeping ghost branching out into new scare tactics.

She stood barefoot on the wooden floor for a moment, then dragged her shorts back on and opened her door.

Marion opened her own door a second later. “Did you hear a scream?”

“Yes.” Giulia wondered if her own bedhead was half as crazy as Marion’s clown hair.

Roy and CeCe leaned over the banister. “Did anyone hear a scream?”

Giulia said, “Yes. I’ll be right back. Just have to get shoes on.”

She shoved her feet into sneakers and decided to let Frank sleep.

When she came out, Marion had smashed down her hair and put on sandals with her pajamas. Roy and CeCe joined them, wearing matching bathrobes and flip-flops.

“Where should we start?” CeCe said.

A different voice, half as loud as the first one, called “Help!”

“First floor,” Giulia said.

Everyone clattered down, the squeaky step repeating like a car alarm. They stopped in a group in front of the antique doll carriage.

“There’s a light at the foot of the lighthouse stairs,” Giulia said, moving again.

Solana lay beneath Cedar at the base of the spiral staircase. His left leg was bent at an angle nature never intended the fibula to achieve. Her eyes were closed and her face was so white it looked like she’d applied stage makeup.

Giulia said, “I have some training. Let me look.”

“So do I,” Roy said.

He crouched next to Cedar’s leg and Giulia knelt by Solana’s head.

“I couldn’t keep her awake after we fell,” Cedar said. Roy touched Cedar’s leg and he cursed in a voice far from his businesslike tone of yesterday.

Giulia patted her empty pocket. “Does anyone have their phone?”

CeCe handed hers over and Giulia opened the flashlight app, then one of Solana’s eyes. The pupil stayed dilated. She checked the other eye: The same.

“My guess is concussion. I don’t want to move her head.”

“I’ll call 911,” Anthony said, moving out into the small foyer.

Marion was already back into the souvenir room. “I’ll wake up Mac.”

“Where did her head hit?” Giulia said to Cedar.

Another string of curses as Roy probed the break. “I’m not sure. The railing, I think. We kept bouncing off those damn winding stairs. Couldn’t get a grip on anything. Dammit, you, stop touching my fucking leg!”

“You’re moving it when you talk,” Roy said. “I’m trying to keep it steady.”

“I tried to get my arm between her head and the cement floor. That’s how I got twisted up.” Cedar closed his eyes and took a couple of short, sharp breaths. “Sorry, dude. Hurts like a sonofabitch.”

Anthony returned. “EMTs and police on their way.”

Solana moaned. Giulia braced the unconscious woman’s head in a “boxing the ears” hold. “I’m not sure what to do with head and neck injuries, except to keep them steady.”

CeCe ran into the dining room and returned with several linen napkins from the place settings. “If she vomits, I’ll clear her mouth.”

The bizarre tableau didn’t move for a few moments.

“Why were you in the lighthouse in the middle of the night?” Giulia said.

Solana, eyes still closed, answered in a voice similar to the one she cajoled the ghost with during her séance.

“We followed the Woman in White.”

All of them turned to Cedar.

“Sunday’s session in the parlor was so unusual Solana wanted to try contacting the spirit again after dark. We don’t live too far from here, so we drove over about two a.m. and set up the Ouija board.”

Giulia wondered if CeCe and Roy’s enthusiastic activity had interfered with Solana’s concentration. She didn’t say that out loud or treat Cedar to a well-deserved lecture about the error of treating Mac’s property as though it were his own. “Mac locks the doors as soon as everyone’s inside for the night.”

He inhaled sharply and a small whimper escaped his lips. Then he took a slower breath and said, “A five-year-old with internet access could break into here. Small-town life makes people careless. We set up the board here at the foot of the stairs. She offered herself to the ghost again. We got a whole hour of nothing. Right when I was ready to give up for the night, she stiffened up like she did on the couch. Then she got up and started climbing the stairs.”

The sounds of two different sirens penetrated the walls.

“Small town. Not far to drive,” Roy said.

“Go on,” Giulia said.

“Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear her voice. Then I swear to the gods I saw a white dress floating up the stairs.” He glared at their faces as though expecting them to laugh. When no one did, he went on. “Solana must have been following it all along and either her belief gave the spirit energy to manifest to me, or I tapped into Solana’s sight. It’s happened before. I heard a voice whisper about protecting the treasure, just like in the séance.”

“But you didn’t see anyone?” Giulia said. “Only the floating dress?”

He shook his head, grimaced, and said, “Only the dress, going up higher around those stairs until it disappeared. Then Solana reached up like she was trying to grab hold of something, or maybe someone’s hands, and she overbalanced.” His brow furrowed. “Yes, she did hit her head on the railing. I tried to catch her, but I was three steps below her. We rolled and bounced down those steps and I tried to twist to break her fall. Her eyes opened and that’s the scream you heard, I guess.” He took another short breath. “I picked the wrong day to quit heroin.”

The house behind them filled with lights and noise and heavy footsteps. Mac ran in followed by two EMTs carrying emergency kits.

Giulia said, “Solana fell and hit her head on the railing.” She gestured toward it with her own head. “We’re not sure if she also hit it on the floor, so we’ve been keeping it immobile.”

Roy said, “Broken leg here, also trying to keep it immobile.”

The EMTs, both male, each took one patient. Giulia and Roy eased out of the way when the EMTs gave them the signal. The noise had brought Frank, Joel, and Gino downstairs. Anthony explained the situation to them, the police, and the EMTs as the latter worked.

Giulia stood against the wall closest to Cedar, waiting, callous as it was, for the pain of his broken leg to make him blurt out something useful.

Sure enough, when the EMT inflated an air cast around it, Cedar cursed the ghost. “You dead bitch! You lied to us!”

The EMTs glanced at each other, then at Mac.

Solana moaned again in that not-quite-here voice, “Where is the gold? You promised the hidden gold if we helped…” Her head tried to thrash in the neck stabilizer.

One of the EMTs put his hands on her shoulders. “Ma’am, please remain still.”

“Ready?” the other EMT said.

The police officers positioned themselves at either end of Cedar’s gurney. “We’ve got this one.”

“Cool. Thanks. You want to head out first?”

The officer in the lead said to Mac, “We’ll be back to take statements as soon as they’re in the ambulance.”

Cedar cursed in a different tone than before. “We landed on her grandmother’s Ouija board. When Solana comes back she’s going to have a shit hemorrhage.”

“Comes back?” Giulia said.

She realized what he meant right as he gave her an “are you stupid” glare.

“After she realizes Dorothea’s left her again, dummy. Ow! What the hell kind of techs are you? Stop banging me around.”

Giulia gathered the three pieces of shattered wood and retrieved the planchette from under the staircase. Cedar accepted them with another grimace and folded his hands over the wreckage.

At this moment Giulia realized she was wearing an orange t-shirt over blue shorts, and her bright red sneakers didn’t match either piece of clothing. Then again, the group of wide-awake guests in their ludicrous combination of bathrobes and beachwear resembled an explosion in a crayon factory.

Frank came to her side now that the space was free. “Treasure hunters?”

“Are you surprised?”

“Nope.”

The police returned and Giulia stepped forward with Marion to tell about the scream that woke them up. Roy and CeCe gave their version. The officers split them into two groups and wrote out four accounts of what they’d seen and heard at the foot of the lighthouse stairs.

It was five thirty when the police left the lighthouse to Mac and the uninjured guests. The upper half of the foyer door began the change from black to gray. Giulia and CeCe shivered.

Mac said, “I’ll make coffee.”

Giulia said, “By any chance, do you have hot chocolate?”

Joel and CeCe said, “Oh, yes.”

Anthony said, “Screw that. I’ve got Jameson in my room, remember? I’ll bring it down for anyone else who could use a shot in their coffee.”

“You win,” Joel said. “We’ve got a stash of homemade chocolate chip cookies in our room.”

They headed upstairs. CeCe replaced the napkins on the dining room table. Marion took out paper napkins from the credenza and set the coffee table. Gino and Roy transferred the coffee cups from the dining room into the living room. Mac and Giulia went into the kitchen.

When she and Mac were alone in the kitchen, Giulia said, “Did you lure those two into the lighthouse to shut them up?”