Veiled Threat (16 page)

twenty-nine

Anya hurled her mug
to the floor.

Blue ceramic shrapnel flew across the room. Giulia dodged it; some bounced off Kane’s trousers. Laurel stared at the shards scattered across the pale yellow linoleum.

No one spoke for a long minute.

Laurel pushed herself off the counter. “I’ll get the broom.”

The Valkyrie in rumpled clothes was gone. An old woman in Laurel’s flowing sleeves and skirt shuffled to the laundry room. Giulia picked up the bigger pieces. Anya appeared to be looking at the mess, but when Giulia reached the still-intact mug handle at her feet, Anya was standing there crying silently, eyes not focused on anything.

Giulia took the broom and dustpan from Laurel and nudged her toward Anya. The two women held each other, Laurel stroking Anya’s hair, murmuring to her. Giulia swept slivers and chunks of mug from under the table, the refrigerator, and as far as the archway to the living room. The other officer held the dustpan for her.

After dumping everything in the kitchen trash, she hung the broom and dustpan on hooks in the laundry room. She closed her eyes to collect herself, but hate blasted through her instead. It roared in her ears and flushed her skin, louder and hotter than an incinerator. She rubbed the heels of her hands against her temples, taking slow, measured breaths.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” said Kane.

Freezing wind rushed into the condo. Two sets of boots stamped on the outside mat. The edge of the wind tickled the back of Giulia’s neck, raising brief goosebumps. The hate fizzled and curled into a ball in her gut.

“Giulia?” Frank called from the living room.

“In here.” She walked back into the kitchen as Frank and Jimmy entered it.

Anya had soaked a dishcloth and was holding it to her face.

Laurel’s hand rested on the teapot. “Can I make anyone some more tea?”

Her phone rang. Everyone jumped this time.

Jimmy yanked out his and hit redial. “Quick, use the earphone and record it. You never know.”

Laurel fumbled the earbud into her left ear and pushed the buttons on the tape recorder. “Hello?”

The same voice, angry this time. It shouted for more than a minute without pausing to let Laurel answer. Giulia doubted Laurel could’ve answered. Her face grew paler and paler as the voice berated her; her hand shook. Frank rolled a chair behind her, but she kept her feet until the voice stopped.

Jimmy said into his phone, “Figures. Someone’s got to be near there. Have them look anyway. Call me back.” He said to the room, “Duquesne this time. I’m amazed he got there in one piece. He’ll be long gone before a car gets through this weather to look for him.”

Anya pushed Laurel down into the chair and took the phone out of her hand. Laurel removed the earpiece and Giulia unplugged the tape recorder.

“Let’s hear it,” Frank said.

Giulia fast-forwarded through the first phone call, making Laurel and the kidnapper sound like cartoon mice. When she reached an instant of silence, she released the button.

“Hello?” Laurel’s voice said.

“Did you think we wouldn’t count the money you agreed to give us? You didn’t cheat us, silly women laden with sins. You cheated the work of the Lord. What pride you have, thinking you could be faithful with a human made in his image. You can’t even be faithful with money that buys only the fleeting pleasures of sin. You are proof that the ways of the Lord are righteous and only those who serve him in faithfulness are worthy of his highest blessing. Repent before death takes you and you may yet escape the pits of Hell.”

Tape hiss. Giulia stopped the playback.

“He didn’t say when he’d call back.” Laurel grabbed at Anya’s hands. “He has to tell us what we have to do next.”

Frank glanced at Jimmy, who nodded.

“Ms. Drury,” Frank began.

“He’s not going to call back,” Giulia said.

Laurel and Anya turned into deer in the headlights.

Giulia took a step toward them. “That was his way of saying he’s keeping Katie because you gypped him. To hell with him.”

Frank stared.

“Don’t worry.” Giulia put a hand on each of their shoulders. “I’ll get her back for you.”

“Giulia—”

She didn’t even bother to look at Frank. “He disguised his voice, but I’m due at the resort in a few hours. I’ll talk to all of them on today’s shift, somehow. I’ll pick up their speech patterns. He talks like you and me but he slips into King James Version speech patterns. I can hear it. I’ll find a way to weasel into their confidence.” The hate in her gut blossomed into energy; Frank’s eternal Red Bulls had nothing on it.

She kissed both of them on the cheek and headed for the front door. “I’ll call you. Tomorrow at the latest. I know the rules have changed. I’ll work fast.” She yanked on her boots and grabbed her coat.

“Giulia—”

She ignored Frank again and went back out into the weather. The condo’s maintenance staff was at last making a dent in the still-drifting snow. She waved at the angry man running the miniature Bobcat along the sidewalk.

Her hapless Ford resembled a giant collapsed snow sculpture. Even though the rental place included a newer snow brush for the price, it took her a good ten minutes to brush off the accumulation and scrape the frost from all the windows.

A layer of salt crunched under her tires as she drove the still-treacherous streets. Halfway to the office a combination plow and salt truck pulled in front of her. She made decent time in its wake, only fishtailing at one-third of the red lights.

She glanced in the rear-view mirror several times, but no Frank. In between fighting the roads she decided he was butting heads with Jimmy. Fine.

It seemed that most workers had taken a snow day. The parking lot behind their building had plenty of empty spaces. Giulia parked in the space farthest from the door and closest to the street entrance. The plowing service still needed to arrive, but she kicked her way through the snow-covered asphalt to the door to the back stairs. Melting slush slopped over the edges of the mat at the foot. She stepped around it and ran upstairs, stamping her boots on the mat outside Driscoll Investigations’ door. Icy clumps hung from her jeans from mid-thigh to mid-calf. She brushed it off and let herself in.

Plans blossomed and withered in her mind like a time-lapse nature movie. She couldn’t pretend to be a die-hard Evangelical. None of the potential suspects screamed “Westboro Baptist Church Wacko.” She didn’t possess enough medical knowledge to somehow make conversation with the masseuse about fertility. Too awkward anyway.

She fired up her computer and started on the ridiculous accumulation of emails.

But … she knew just enough about Pagan religions to talk comparative religion with the masseuse. Christmas vs. Yule, Holly and Oak Kings, No Room at the Inn.

In a perfect world, maybe she could get a three-way discussion going with the desk clerk.

Frank stomped his boots on the mat a few minutes later.

“I’m so glad the plowing service fee in my rent is being put to good use. Giulia, what the hell are you planning to do?”

“I’m working on it. I’m going to play up to the desk clerk and the masseuse so they trust me. I’m going to figure out some way to talk with the sous chef. I will channel my inner Saint Paul.” She looked up at him. “I know that expression. You’ll have to look this one up for yourself. I’m buried in emails.”

He opened the blinds. “And this will accomplish what, exactly?”

She inhaled slowly. “I will keep it up, with subtlety, until one of them lets something slip.”

“Not in time to accomplish anything useful.”

“You’re wrong. Have you forgotten that people talk to me? You said it yourself when you asked me to help with the Bible-quoting stalker suspects.” She grimaced. “I’m going to gain the trust of all of them and betray it. You can start calling me Judas Iscariot.”

Sidney opened the door on Giulia’s last sentence. “It’s Christmas, not Easter. Hey, Giulia. Good morning, Mr. D. Theologically speaking, Jesus’s life hadn’t yet gone into the compost pile.”

Giulia laughed out loud. “Sidney, if I’d been drinking anything, you would owe me a keyboard. Where did you come up with that?”

Sidney shrugged. “It sorta hit me after the last RCIA class. The guest priest had a zillion degrees in theology and psychology and he was wicked old. He went on and on about the deep spiritual meaning of everything Jesus did and said. One of those people who love the sound of their own voice, you know? When he finished talking about how everything in the Christmas story points like a laser pointer to the Crucifixion, I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn’t say something snarky.”

Giulia managed, “Why?”

“Come on. No way do I believe that Mary made swaddling cloths with cross patterns. Oh, and get this: He drew a flow chart on the whiteboard using the Cross to show the important points in the life of Jesus and which Church doctrines line up with them. Then he drew another one to show how the amount of money we put in the envelopes each week is connected with these doctrines and that knowing this and tying it into our weekly offerings proves how good a Catholic we are.” She banged her purse into the bottom drawer of her desk.

“No, it doesn’t,” Giulia said.

“Yeah? Then tell him. I almost had a fight with Olivier over this. Two days before our wedding, and we’re arguing about nutso theology.” She pounded her password into the keyboard.

“Listen, I’ve dealt with some of those antiquated priests and nuns. You’re not saying Olivier agreed with that drivel?”

Sidney un-ruffled. “No, he doesn’t. He said I should just let it wash off my back and concentrate on the important things.”

“He’s right. When I was a Novice, one of the retired Sisters gave all of us a little ceramic baby Jesus, adorable and curly headed and smiling—and he was sleeping on a cross.”

“Ew.” Sidney shivered.

“Exactly. There’s an old school of thought that won’t let these macabre ideas go, and you should take Olivier’s advice. Ask Father Pat. Right, Frank? He’ll set you straight.”

“Yeah. Pat’s all common sense. He’ll love the compost line. Might use it in a sermon.”

Sidney’s one-hundred-watt smile came out. “Really? That would be totally cool. Father Pat’s the best.” She did a double-take at Giulia’s plain-as-possible clothes. “That’s right! You’re working at the resort. How’d it go? What’s it like?”

“Wait a second, Sidney. Giulia, your plan needs some definite steps. This is a partnership, remember?”

“I am quite aware of that.” She lifted her fingers from her keyboard. “Sorry. That came out wrong. I’m not trying to frost you. It’s more like improv in my head than a scripted piece.”

“You’ve been playing in the orchestra pit too long. It’s giving you dangerous ideas.”

“On the contrary, it’s giving me useful ideas. Costuming, for instance.” She plucked at her drab beige sleeve.

“I wondered why you were wearing that,” Sidney said.

Giulia laughed. “Because it’s frumpy and bland? Perfect. You’ll notice I’m not wearing makeup and have done nothing fancy to my new hair. It’s all camouflage.”

“What’s wrong with the regular you?” Frank said.

“I’m reimagining myself as a female Uriah Heep.” She looked from Sidney to Frank. “You don’t recognize the reference? If you’d been my students you’d know the classics.” Her hand felt in her central desk drawer and emerged with a ruler. “Listen up. In Dickens’s
David Copperfield
, Uriah Heep is the epitome of false modesty. He is forever saying how humble he is and sucking up to his employers, when he’s really scheming to defraud them.”

Sidney’s mouth hung open. “You’re going to pretend to steal from the resort?”

Giulia whapped the ruler against the palm of her hand. “Pay attention or I’ll have you take a test after this. Of course I’m not going to pretend to steal from the resort. The character’s complete humility gave me the idea. I’m going to play up to the three people I’ve pegged as possible kidnappers until I get what I need.”

Frank took the ruler from her hand. “I’m not happy with this non-plan.”

“If you can come up with a better one by two o’clock, I’m willing to listen.”

thirty

Giulia walked through the
employee door at two thirty and Monica pounced.

“You’re early. Wonderful. Ellen called in sick and I’m losing my mind. Can you clean Snapdragon 105 and 107? The guests are being patient but we don’t want to push it.”

She dashed away while Giulia was saying, “Yes, of course.”

The plumbing worked in both rooms, and no guests appeared while her hands were in the toilet. Monica pounced again while Giulia rolled the last room’s sheets into neat cylinders.

“Trade you.” She took the sheets and handed Giulia a Post-it note. “Two rooms in Amaryllis need the full treatment. We’ve got late arrivals tonight for tomorrow’s Christmas party. Thanks. You’re a peach.”

It was nearly five thirty before Giulia collapsed into a plastic chair in the break room.

A portable radio played “Sleigh Ride.” She rubbed her eyes and kept her hands over them. The darkness was restful.

A cup of black sludge slid under her nose. “Here.”

She raised her head and smiled at the masseuse. “Thanks, Penny.” She sipped it without grimacing.
I’ll be an actress yet.

“I see you passed the unofficial initiation.”

“Initiation?”

“Restocking the hidden shelves in the gift shop without overreacting.” Her warm smile took in Giulia’s blush and flicked to the cup of coffee.

“I admit I was startled, but it’s all part of the job.”

“Where on earth did they find you? You talk like my college ethics teacher.”

Giulia gave her a lopsided grin. “I get that a lot.”

“You’re a helluvan actor, too. That coffee should have a warning label, and you’re not batting an eye. Did Barbara hit you up about starring in a skit yet?”

“No. I’m not an actress, really.”

“Heh. That won’t stop Barbara. Besides, you’ve got balls. That’s pretty much all you need to get on our stage.” She opened a bottle of water on the table and drank.

Giulia coughed and set down the coffee. “I’m sorry?”

Penny laughed. “Yep. Ethics teacher. I meant the way you dive-bombed the jilted Father Christmas yesterday.” She slugged more water.

“Watch where you’re going, jock-boy.” An irritated baritone voice from the hallway.

“Least I can get it—” The ski instructor and both sous chefs entered the break room at the same time.

“Matt!” The masseuse scowled at her husband.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Want me to get the boss?”

“Yeah, thanks. She wanted everyone to test this.”

Giulia stared at the tray in the first sous chef’s hands. It held a dozen dessert plates.

“Is that cheesecake?” she said.

The second sous chef—the one she’d been trying to corner—said, “This is my first solo dessert. I need to convince the dessert chef to take me as an apprentice. So you’re all forcibly volunteered as guinea pigs.”

Maryjane came in from the front counter. Giulia and Penny looked at each other.

“You think you have to convince us to try cheesecake?” Giulia said.

“You aren’t married or dating, are you?” Penny said.

“Am too. Who do you think cooks at home?” He handed everyone napkins and forks. “Where’s the boss?”

“Here! Cheesecake ahoy!” Barbara hurried to the end of the table and held out both hands. “Gimme, please.”

“Okay. Crust is gingersnaps, macadamia nuts, sugar, butter. Filling is the usual, plus sour cream and lime juice. On top is sliced kiwi and pineapple, with a mango coulis artistically drizzled over all.”

Maryjane stabbed a forkful. Giulia and Penny put the first bite into their mouths at the same instant. Penny moaned. Maryjane’s wide smile stayed on her face even as she popped more cheesecake into her mouth. Giulia made a show of being too overcome to stand. Barbara ate one bite, then a second, set down her fork, stood, and beckoned the sous chef over. He came, color draining from his winter-pale face.

Barbara put her hands on his shoulders and kissed both his cheeks. “I’m going to talk to Tim about adding this to the dessert rotation.”

The sous chef inhaled like he’d forgotten how for a moment. The other chef removed the rest of the plates from the tray and went back toward the kitchen.

Barbara sat back down and ate another bite. “Could someone pour me half a cup of coffee?”

Giulia stood. “Anyone else?”

“Sit down, please,” the sous chef said. “I’ll get it.”

“I’ll take a half,” Maryjane said.

“Me, too,” Penny said. Her husband entered, tucking in his thermal undershirt. “Honey, want some cheesecake? It’s heavenly.”

The ski instructor glanced at Barbara, whose eyes were on a glazed kiwi slice, and sneered. “Nope.”

The sous chef followed his glance and gave him the Italian hand gesture for “Kiss my ass.”

Giulia coughed and swallowed coffee to cover it.

Penny stabbed her fork into the dessert. Giulia expected flames to shoot out of her eyes. After a moment, the masseuse stood and beckoned her husband into the hall.

Barbara stood and picked up her half-finished portion. “I’m working on payroll, and this will definitely help. Gordon, I’ll recommend that Tim add this to the Sunday-night dessert choices. This is as good as his tiramisu, and you know how much I adore tiramisu.”

Gordon passed out coffee cups and sat next to Maryjane to sample his own cooking. Giulia, under pretense of fetching a napkin, eased over to the doorway. Penny and Matt hadn’t moved far enough away from the door, for which Giulia was thankful.

“… don’t give me that,” Penny hissed. “I hacked your email yesterday.”

“You underhanded bitch,” Matt hissed back.

“And what are you? Telling your sister that you think I miscarried because I screwed Gordon and got an STD.” Giulia heard tears in her voice.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him. I’ve also seen those mailings from the adoption agencies. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing! I’m tired of your games. I want a baby with a husband who loves me. Is that so hard to understand?”

Giulia returned to the table before someone noticed her hovering too close to the doorway. Penny and Matt didn’t return to the break room. Giulia finished her dessert. The other housekeepers and the wait staff came in a few minutes later. Gordon looked like an actor taking a center-stage bow.

Giulia poured the rest of her coffee into the sink and rinsed the mug. No one paid any attention to her while they had gourmet cheesecake in front of them. She walked through the door into the break room. The bank of four lockers facing the doorway screened the opposite bank that held Gordon’s. No one followed her in. She slipped the paper clip out of her pocket, scowling at her hands, which had decided to tremble.

Wuss.

And the lock wasn’t engaged.

Thank you, patron saint of breaking-and-entering.

She eased the shank out of the body. Gordon must have been in a hurry. Or angry.
Hmm.

The Wildflower kept the lockers oiled. The door didn’t make a single squeak when she eased it open.

Coat, boots, hat. Scattered papers on the top shelf. She picked them up, careful not to disarrange them. Rent bill. Department store credit card bill. RSVP card for a New Year’s party. Nothing that pointed to the kidnappers. She listened for a moment. The noise from the break room continued. She stood on tiptoe and felt farther back on the top shelf. Something heavy and flat. She pulled it out. An iPad.

Bingo.

She paused to listen again. No change. No footsteps coming her way. She booted the iPad and the screen came to life right away.
The hibernation button is a wonderful thing. All right, who’s emailing you?

A woman with the same last name. Giulia opened that one.

Gordie, my Gyno called back. She says the Pill’s still in my system. I told her that it’s been six freakin’ months but she says we just have to relax and keep trying. I’m opening a bottle of wine and we’re going to role-play, if you get my drift. Brew some espresso before you leave, because it’s baby-makin’ time!

The pitch of the voices in the break room changed. Giulia closed the email and hibernated the iPad. Making sure to slide everything back in as near as possible to their original positions, she closed the locker door. She caught herself just before she clicked the shank all the way into the lock.

She was inside the supply closet before the waitresses reached the hall. Her hands still shook.

“Calm down. Slow your breathing. Anyone would think you’re new at this.”

To cover it, she checked the supplies on the cart, restocking the lotion and toilet paper. When she opened the door, hands steady again, Monica was leaning in the break room doorway finishing a cup of coffee.

“You had some of the cheesecake, right?”

“I’d like to kidnap him and chain him in my kitchen forever,” Giulia said, pitching her voice just a little too loud.

Penny’s laughter came from the break room. “I just said the same thing.”

Giulia and Monica joined Penny and Maryjane. The busboys and dishwasher walked past them all, plates in hands. The radio gave them “Christmastime Is Here.”

Maryjane shook a finger at Giulia and Penny. “That is not the way good women talk. What will your husbands say?”

Giulia held up her naked left hand. “I’m single. Although I hope to get a husband without having to kidnap one.”

Penny said, “Want to borrow mine? He might cure you.” She glanced at Maryjane. “Don’t say it. Just because you have the perfect
Ozzie and Harriet
marriage …”

Maryjane gave Penny a maternal type of hug, which looked awkward with Penny’s six-inch height advantage.

“I’ll add you to the prayers at tonight’s service. It’s a special one for children and parents.”

Penny disengaged herself. “I know you mean well. Thanks. I’m about to dedicate a shrine to Brigid, which will cover the Druids and the Catholics. Regina, do you know any more bases I could cover?”

“Sorry, no. I’m not familiar with religions that have multiple deities.”

“Oh, well. I’m off to surf the Web in the game room before my next appointment.” She paused in the gift shop to finger the lingerie.

Maryjane’s gaze followed her. “Some days I have a very naughty desire to buy one of those teddies.”

Giulia smiled. “I had the same idea when I was hanging them up yesterday.”

The desk clerk lowered her voice. “I’ve been hoping for years for him to surprise me with one for Christmas.”

“Would you like me to drop a hint?”

Maryjane gasped and looked around, something like fright twisting her face.