Second To Nun (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 2) (20 page)

Thirty-Nine

Giulia slipped away from the porch and tugged Mac back into her office.

“I only caught bits and pieces. What happened?”

Mac’s neck and ears still burned a blotched crimson. “He actually tried to blame me for their break-in because my locks were so easy to pick. I don’t know what Rowan was thinking when she recommended them to me.”

“Perhaps Rowan didn’t suspect a legitimate supernatural contact would alter their moral compass.”

Mac’s righteous anger drained away. “Once I knew they broke in, I assumed the whole possession scene was an act. Do you think it could have been real? I thought you were anti-ghost.”

“I’m open to all possibilities until the case is solved.” Giulia expected a trapdoor to open at her feet and drop her straight down to Hell for the unending series of lies she’d told since entering Stone’s Throw. “Is Lucy really checking for stolen valuables?”

Back to mottled anger. “No. But she will.” Mac opened the door and shouted Lucy’s name.

Giulia climbed up to the Sand Dollar room for more research, which lasted until the district attorney called seven minutes later.

A three thirty slot had opened in his favorite judge’s schedule and could she please drive back to Cottonwood immediately?

Giulia primed herself with two cans of Coke and hit the road. Jane, Sidney, and Zane met her at the courthouse and the entire order of protection process wrapped up in twenty-three minutes. In the parking lot afterwards, she gave them a theatrical rendition of the three a.m. break-in and shouting match of dismissal.

“You might as well be living in a bad episode of Beach Bum Ghost Hunters,” Sidney said.

“Is that really a TV show?” Jane said.

“No, but it could be.” Sidney unlocked her phone. “Jessamine rode on Belle’s back with a lot of help yesterday. I have adorable pictures.”

Sidney moved into the shadow of the courthouse wall to avoid glare from the sun on the screen. Giulia and Jane “aww”-ed.

“I notice Olivier out of spitting distance,” Giulia said.

“He takes no chances now.”

Jane said to Giulia, “When are you coming back for real?”

“I’m not sure. If the psychics were behind the plot to get hold of the B&B, then it all should stop and we’ll work up a case for the owner to nail them. I’m banking on definitive fingerprint results from the fridge containers. Zane, anything yet?”

Zane looked up from his phone. “I left a message before we headed here. The minute I get the results I’ll email them to you.”

“Okay. Anything else I should know about?”

Three headshakes.

“You are model employees. I’d better head back while I’m still on a caffeine and sugar high.”

Giulia stopped at the Jimmy Buffett burger place a few minutes before six to pick up the order Frank had called in. The low sun shone on the packed outdoor bar but the restaurant inside held all the takeout orders, so she got in and out in ten minutes.

He’d set up beer and napkins on the patio table. She fell onto a chair and raised her face to the sun.

“I am the walking dead.”

“I could’ve ordered the burgers rare for you. You know, in place of fresh human meat?”

She made a face. “I don’t like my meat talking back when I bite into it.”

They made dents in their food while Giulia told Frank about the court appointment.

“The lawyer for Flynt’s wife was there too.”

“Same reason?”

“Yup. She left his clothes in the driveway, changed the locks, and installed a security system, which he tripped trying to break in the back door after he posted bail. All caught on video.” She dragged several fries through a mountain of ketchup. “These are possibly the best fries I’ve eaten in a month. Crêpes and fancy breakfast muffins are not enough to last the day.”

Frank opened a second beer. “I was not idle while you were gone. A new couple checked into the empty room on the third floor. I have their names and address. After which I too did not sun myself like a lizard on the beach. Walter and I discussed the manly sport of catching and gutting fish, and I regaled him with an unembellished account of the séance and its three a.m. sequel. The sirens woke up half the town.”

Giulia plucked Frank’s spicy dill spear from his takeout container and chewed it with extra relish. Frank rewarded her with a shudder. Life was back to normal.

“He reciprocated with some interesting rumors about Auntie Mac and the family legend.”

Giulia leaned across the narrow table and kissed him. “You are a better Watson than Jude Law. Handsomer, too, although I’d like to perform an in-person appraisal to make sure.”

Frank assumed a lofty, certain-of-his-superior-claims air and continued. “That local news article about the lighthouse and the family history generated a lot more interest than Mac thinks. Ghosts are one thing, but buried gold? Little Walter has rented three times as much scuba equipment this month, all to the locals.”

Giulia drank the last of her beer. “I doubt Mac knows that.”

“Walter didn’t tell her. He pointed out again that he’s not too fond of his sweet old auntie.”

“Define ‘not too fond.’”

“If you’re thinking he’s been sneaking up here to put gunk in showerheads and make a nightgown flap like a ghost, I don’t buy it. From what I’ve seen, he’s one hundred percent into doing the least amount of actual work it takes to get by.”

Giulia wrinkled her nose. “Boo. A convenient criminal would have meant we get home sooner. Is there any more beer? No, I take it back. I’m too whipped to process more alcohol. I’ll be right back.” She ran inside, rinsed the beer bottle three times, and refilled it with cold water. When she returned to her chair, she said, “So the neighbors are treasure hunting. Since nobody’s found anything, I presume Mac’s story was true about the hidden treasure being nothing more than a legend.”

“It’s too bad,” Frank said. “A stash of real gold coins would be a sight.”

“Feel free to rent scuba gear from Walter.” Giulia snapped shut her Styrofoam takeout container.

“No thanks. I’d have to listen to him whine some more about the Stone family’s unwillingness to support him. I asked him why he wasn’t working here with Mac, making it a true family business, and his fangs came out. He called Mac a cheap bitch who holds grudges. Seems he made a few duty visits to Mac’s father and tried to stab everyone else in the back for a bigger share of the family fortune. Unfortunately for him, Mac and her surviving sister scooped the lot, which wasn’t a pile of money by any stretch. Everyone else got pocket change. Walter claimed his share was a six-pack’s worth.” He picked up both containers and headed inside.

The first thing Giulia checked up in their room was work email.

“Zane came through.” She opened the fingerprint report and read it through once, then once more. “Is Mercury in retrograde?”

“What?”

“The fingerprints on the milk and maple syrup containers are all Mac’s. The ones on the refrigerator door handle are—wait for it—mine and Mac’s.”

“Let me see.” He picked up the tablet and skimmed the report. “So we’ve got two choices.”

Giulia rubbed her face with her hands. “Either Mac is one of the best liars I’ve ever met or mournful dead Dorothea objects to breakfast food.” She managed a smile. “Or I saw that article online and decided to toss away my conscience and cheat a complete stranger out of her rightful inheritance.”

Frank handed her back the iPad. “Must be choice number three. That’s so you.”

She drummed her fingers on the quilt. “Wasn’t it Sherlock Holmes who complained that criminals knew too much about fingerprints?”

“It’s a hazard of the profession. Would you like to listen to my dissertation on the evils of Go Phones and criminals’ affinity for them?” He yawned and leaned across Giulia to see the digital clock. “It’s only eight o’clock. In my dissolute youth I’d be good for another six hours.”

“In your dissolute youth you weren’t up at three a.m. because of treasure-hunting psychics.” She yawned in turn. “Or if you were, your grandmother has been holding out on me. She tells me all the best stories of your childhood.”

“I call no fair. You had to go and jump the wall and make all your relatives stop speaking to you. I know I’m being deprived of juicy and embarrassing stories from your supposed dissolute youth.”

Giulia favored him with a beatific smile.

Forty

“Wake up.” Frank’s voice.

Giulia opened one eye and at the same moment heard the knocking on their door.

“I’ll get it.” She padded to the door and opened it enough to stick her head around the edge.

Mac stood at the crack, fear and exhaustion in her face. “Can you come?”

“Two minutes.”

Giulia closed the door and opened the closet. “Something’s spooked Mac.”

Frank threw off the quilt and grabbed the pants Giulia tossed to him. After pulling on her jeans, she hooked her bra and found a t-shirt. She picked up her phone and stepped into her sneakers as Frank opened the door.

Mac beckoned and they followed. A different quiet filled the house at six thirty in the morning than at three thirty. Of course, that quiet had been broken by multiple screams.

Rays of morning sun lasered through the pine trees on the other end of the lake.

Wavelets lapped the beach and seagulls fought for pieces of leftover food half-visible in the sand.

In a perfect world, Giulia would make enough through Driscoll Investigations to afford a house on this lake. And while she was wishing, she might as well put in an order for a unicorn to ride to work. With sparkling rainbows flowing from its mane as she cantered along the streets of Cottonwood.

They followed Mac past the knight into the lighthouse. Lines of red paint dripped down the wall next to the first narrow window. Giulia raised her phone and took several pictures in a row before the letters became illegible.

Someone had drawn a lopsided square on the wall and within it written in capital letters, “PLEASE FORGIVE ME.”

“I don’t usually come in here before the daily tour,” Mac said. “Lately, though, I’ve been doing a quick walk-through of the first floor.”

Giulia climbed the stairs and took more pictures. “It’s still wet.”

“Is it paint?” Frank said.

She leaned across the gap between the stairs and braced her hand against the wall. “I’m not sure…” She sniffed and recoiled. “Good Heavens, it’s blood.”

Mac fell against the wall. “No, no, no.” Her head swung back and forth. “No, no, no.”

Giulia got a grip on herself. “Honey, I need something to scoop this into for a test.”

“Be right back.” Frank ran into the house proper and returned in less than a minute with a butter knife and a small glass. “Mac, I borrowed these from the kitchen.” He climbed to Giulia and held her waist while she reached out to scrape as many of the thicker dribbles as she could.

“Okay, pull me back.” When she was steady on her feet she wiped the flat of the knife against the edge of the glass. “I need plastic wrap.”

She carried down the glass in one hand and the knife in the other. Mac had stopped repeating “no” but the lines in her face were carved even deeper now. From her posture, it looked like the wall was the only thing holding her up.

Frank said, “I can drive it to the lab this morning. All we want is confirmation, not DNA matches, right?”

“Well…No, because when we catch whoever’s behind this we might have to look for a murder victim.”

Mac made a strangled sound and slid to the floor. Frank’s and Giulia’s heads snapped around, but Mac was conscious. She’d buried her head in her hands as she rocked back and forth.

Frank said to Giulia, “Good point. I wasn’t thinking. Okay, I’ll shower and hit the road. I’ll stop at the precinct to catch up on things afterward, so I won’t be back ’til this afternoon sometime.” He raised his voice. “Mac, where’s the plastic wrap?”

No response. The rocking continued.

“Mac. Mac.”

Giulia crouched next to the old woman and put both hands on her shoulders. “Mac, cut it out. You have a business to run.” She gave the bony shoulders a sharp shake. “Wake up.”

The gray head rose, the hazel eyes round and rimmed with white. “I’m cursed.”

“Bullshit,” Frank said. “You’re letting this get to you.”

“If it was your business, wouldn’t it get to you?” Mac’s mouth snapped shut and she glared at him.

“That’s better.” Giulia held out a hand to help Mac up.

“Thank you. I was rattled. What did you need, Frank?”

“Plastic wrap.”

“First drawer on the right side of the refrigerator.”

He kissed Giulia on the cheek. “I’ll call you.”

Giulia said to Mac, “I don’t want to scrub this off. Is there a painting large enough to cover it anywhere in the house?”

Mac turned her back to the gory message. “In the library. No, no. There are a few old landscapes in the attic.” She took a step toward the house.

“Wait.” Giulia slapped the brick wall. “We’ll need a drill and two screws.”

“Right. Those are in the cellar. Come with me into the office.”

Mac took a keyring from one of the cubbyholes in her roll top desk and detached one key. “The paintings are under a tarp on the opposite side from the Halloween shelf. I’ll bring the drill.”

All was silent behind the bedroom doors as Giulia passed them. She didn’t stop to listen for phantom footsteps from the attic. Enough weirdness for one day. She hoped. The fluorescent light illuminated the correct side of the attic for her needs, and she spotted the tarp right away.

Months or years of dust exploded from it when she flipped it back. She buried her face in her t-shirt and coughed so hard her stomach muscles protested. Finally she wiped her eyes and ventured back into the air.

An amateur beachscape met her gaze. Extremely amateur. Those orange beachgoers should’ve stayed away from the cheap spray tan. Those seagulls had flown too near a nuke plant. The style looked familiar. She knelt to tip it forward and caught the signature: MacAllister Stone, age 10.

All thoughts about the beachscape deleted from her brain and tongue, she tilted the painting against her chest and inspected the next one. A mother-daughter portrait in dark oils. No. The next: An early American style horse and buggy in winter. Next: A ship of some kind with multiple sails riding high waves on a stormy night. This artist had talent. Everything seemed to be in the correct perspective. The few seagulls had the correct number of wings and eyes.

Best of all, the dimensions of the painting and its frame were enough to cover the entire bloody message on the lighthouse wall.

Giulia slid it out of the stack and leaned the rest of the paintings against each other, then against the wall again. She restrained her energy when replacing the tarp.

This time she didn’t choke. The painting wasn’t heavy but it was unwieldy. It took her twice as long to return to the lighthouse because she spent all her time not banging the frame into the walls or banisters or tables.

Mac was pacing from the history room past the suit of armor to the base of the spiral stairs and back again. She didn’t appear to see Giulia lugging the oversized gilded frame until Giulia blocked her path.

“Where have you been? It’s almost seven thirty. What if one of the guests gets up for an early walk on the beach and sees the message?”

Giulia counted to ten in Latin, because her Latin wasn’t as good as it used to be and the effort always distracted her from whatever was annoying her. “If you have the drill, let’s get this hung up.”

Mac ran into the lighthouse and picked up the drill from a toolbox on the floor. Giulia hefted the painting up the stairs and positioned it.

Her eyeballing had been correct: It covered the entire drippy mess with room to spare.

“Got the positioning?” Giulia’s voice was thin from the strained angle of her body.

“Yes. You can move back.”

Giulia rocked herself back against the opposite railing and Mac stepped into place. The drill whined and crunched as it created two holes. Mac switched drill bits and drove two three-inch screws into the wall.

“All right. You can hang it up.”

Giulia’s smile was crooked. “Actually, I can’t. I’m not tall enough.”

Machine Mac shifted gears and looked at Giulia like she was a faulty cog. “Yes, you are short. I didn’t notice it before. Here. Give that to me.”

She took the painting, eased the picture wire away from the back a little farther, and hung it on the screws. Giulia climbed up two more steps.

“A little to the left. More. Now it’s tipping too much. Back to the right. Good.”

She followed Mac down the stairs. When Mac had packed up the drill, Giulia said, “Let me put it away for you.”

A tight shake of the head. “No. I need to regain control of my morning. This will be away before Lucy arrives to help with breakfast.”

“Okay.” Giulia returned to her empty room and picked up the clothes Frank had tossed on the bed. A long, hot shower eased some of her tension. Afterward, she wrapped her hair in one towel and her body in another and sat on the bed with a plain legal pad and pen.

The bloody message cleared almost no one.

• Cedar: Out because of his leg.
  
• Solana: In because of…everything. Suspect Number One, supplanting Marion and Anthony
  .
  
• Anthony and Marion: In because of their B&B plans.
  
• Marion’s freak-out over the shower gunk could have been an act.
  
• A really good act.
  
• She’d started her own successful business. She might come across all snooty and better than “the help,” but when she wants something enough will she regress to her working roots?
  
• Anthony. Never trust the quiet ones? Willing to get Marion whatever she wants?
  
• Joel and Gino: In because…Nope. Still no reason to suspect them. They’re way into Mac’s Halloween Week, but so what?
  
• Roy and CeCe: Out…ish.
  
• Their website showed a full list of gigs, albeit at grade school after grade school. They don’t appear to need the money (but everyone could use a pile of gold) and don’t have the time to run a B&B, let alone work multi-level hauntings.
  
• They might want to turn the B&B into a permanent studio.
  
• They’re clever enough to stage the hauntings, but are they creepy enough to write messages in blood and ruthless enough to scare Solana into a potentially fatal fall?
  
• Walter: Suspect Number Two, knocking Marion and Anthony farther down the list.
  
• It’s easy to fake laziness and dissatisfaction.
  
• If he’s faking those, what else could he be faking?
  
• Based on Frank’s reports, he’s not faking the dissatisfaction. Scratch that part.
  
• If he’s only pretending to be lazy, then all the B&B incidents could lead back to him.
  
• Is his girlfriend, whom neither I nor Frank have yet seen, prodding him like Mary Todd Lincoln with the White House in her sights?
  
• Lucy: Dissatisfied, therefore Suspect Number Three.
  
• Is she fed up with trying to use her MFA and will settle for owning her own B&B?
  
• Does she hate Mac enough to try and kill a guest?
  
• Has this year or two or three of taking orders become a Last Straw?
  
• She works the nightgown trick on Halloween, therefore…
  
• Mac: No. Once and for all. If Mac is manipulating DI, then I need to turn in my membership card for the “Ability to Read People” club.
  
• Rowan.
  

Time to research Rowan.

She set her tablet on top of the legal pad. The search results page loaded without much delay, but Rowan’s GIF-heavy website took six minutes and twenty-seven seconds.

What, did WordPress market an “occult” template? Rowan’s pulsating fog of purple and green was less soothing than Solana’s, but the tabs were much of a muchness. About, Testimonials, Services, News, Tarot decks for sale instead of Ouija boards.

Giulia flexed her fingers. Now that Mac had fired Solana, Mac might cling tighter to Rowan. Good luck prying apart two old friends. Rowan would have to show up on Mac’s porch with a revelation beyond weak enough for Giulia to be able to disprove in such a way to raise the hired PI’s merits above Rowan’s.

Maybe Rowan would arrive with a personal message from Dorothea Stone about installing deadbolts.

She started a third page.

Proof that Every Guest This Week is Part of a Conspiracy to Steal the Legendary Gold.

• Solana and Cedar convinced one of their spirit friends to write the message in the glass on the attic window.
  
• Joel and Gino cozied up to Whining Walter and paid him to start the fire and steal Mac’s purse.
  
• Anthony and Marion bribed the handyman to plant that bag of yuck in their shower pipe.
  

She let her pen take over, but not like Solana’s Ouija board. No bug-eyed possession here. Pens didn’t have eyes to bug out anyway.

• Joel and Gino are actually Mafia, and the Stone stagecoach robber cheated an early American branch of the Mafia out of its share of the loot. The newspaper article helped them track down this long-overdue payment.
  
• Anthony and Marion have access to a wormhole universe populated by invisible subservient worker bees who are perpetrating all the damage plus the ghost noises.
  
• Solana convinced either Dorothea or a different spirit to scratch the lighthouse wall above the stairs higher than humans could reach. And a third spirit to write this morning’s bloody message. Even though Mac did have an ancestor with that name, did her Dorothea really die in a fall over the gallery railing?
  

Nitpick: Where did a spirit get that much blood?

Nitpick number two: Where did anyone get that much blood?

Nitpick number three: This job wasn’t supposed to include a possible murder investigation.

The door flew open and Mac’s hand caught it right before it slammed into the wall.

“Again, please. The third floor.”