Changing Habits: A Short Story (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery) (3 page)

V

Frank rang his brother Sean’s doorbell at ten after seven that evening. Several high-pitched voices shouted, “Doorbell!”

“Heaven help us, the kids are here.”

Giulia poked him. “You know they love you. Be good.”

The door opened and Sean took Giulia’s hand. “Welcome to the Driscoll pre-wedding chaos. I’ve been through it twice. The fridge has plenty of cold beer to fortify the male spirit.”

“Nobody escapes the wedding favor assembly line,” Tina called out.

“Damn.” Sean’s huge shoulders slumped. “Come in. It’s like ripping off a bandage. Get it over with as fast as you can.”

Giulia left her sneakers on one of the mats by the front door. Frank waited for her and they walked into the massive kitchen together. Every Driscoll within a thirty-mile radius either sat at the two-part kitchen table plus card table, ferried supplies back and forth, or prevented impending disaster in the shape of various Driscoll offspring.

Two thermoses on the far counter were labeled “coffee” and “hot water.” Cups and teabags, sugar and milk were set up nearby. Trays of cookies—molasses on the right and chocolate chip on the left—covered the top of the stove. Frenetic cartoon music came from the living room… and the soundtrack to
The Sound of Music
played from an iPod on top of the refrigerator.

Frank’s two brothers laughed and high-fived each other at the look on Giulia’s face. Their mother stopped on her way to greet Giulia, took in the tableau, and detoured to the fridge. The music changed to Gaelic Storm’s latest project.

“I’m ashamed of my own sons,” she said.

“Come on, ma, it was funny.”

She glared at them.

“Sorry, Giulia,” they said in unison.

Frank’s mother kissed Giulia. “You do all you can to raise them right, but their inner ten-year-old still manages to sneak out sometimes.”

Giulia smiled at the woman who’d become like a favorite aunt since that first Driscoll Christmas party two years ago. “I think the correct response is a theatrical eyeroll while saying, ‘Men.’ ”

“You bet it is,” Eva said. Her husband Danny gave her a pained look.

Frank’s mother ushered Giulia and Frank to the end of the small table near the thermoses. “Grab caffeine and sugar, you two, and get to work. Frank, you’re on label duty, I don’t trust you with anything delicate. Giulia, you’re ribbons. Tina and Sean, you’re on break.”

The assembly line of No-bake Vienna Coffee Ball Mix in crystal-patterned canning jars started back up. Frank’s oldest nephew handed a jar from one of the stacked boxes to his sister. She poured crushed shortbread cookies into the bottom and passed it to her mother.  Darlene added powdered sugar and slid it toward her husband. Michael added almonds, Daniel added cocoa and espresso powders, Eva topped it off with cinnamon and twisted on the lid. Frank peeled the backing off a white and green label. The front half read ‘Happy not-baking from Frank and Giulia Driscoll’ plus the wedding date. The recipe covered the back half. Giulia tied green and white ribbons around the lid and curled them.

An alternating niece or nephew set the finished product in the top box on a different stack. Every so often the stacker got bored and tagged another as a replacement.

Eva said over the music and the husbands discussing soccer, “Giulia, first piece of essential advice: Never serve a Driscoll male breakfast in bed.”

A chorus of groans from Frank and his brothers.

Eva said, “Ignore them. If you do it even once, as a honeymoon treat, they’ll expect it every single weekend. Danny pouted for three months after I said Never Again. Then he got over it.”

“Because she refused to cook at all till I stopped.”

“And that,” Eva touched her husband’s lips, “is where our children got their pouts.”

Two hours later, seventy-five handmade wedding favors nestled in six now-heavy boxes. Sean and Frank pushed them next to the refrigerator. Tina went to the living room doorway

“Josh, Ben, Colin, Gwen, Joey; Chocolate milkshakes only if you don’t wake up the babies sleeping on the floor.”

Five whispers of “Chocolate!” followed by five small pairs of feet running into the kitchen.

Tina blended ice cream, chocolate syrup, and milk. Darlene brought out tequila and triple sec. Michael found glasses and salt. Giulia sliced limes. When the kids were settled with the latest Disney movie, the adults sat around the table with margaritas and snacks.

“Giulia,” Frank’s mother said, “I’m glad to hear you’re starting marriage with my son by not knuckling under to him.”

Giulia covered her confusion with a drink. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I heard about the veil discussion. Frank, I taught you respect.”

Frank’s cheeks reddened. “Ma…”

“What’s up with the veil?” Eva said.

“I’m not wearing one,” Giulia said. “I’m wearing jasmine and a Christmas rose.”

“Ooh, pretty,” said Tina. “Priests don’t get all medieval about that stuff anymore anyways. Pat sure doesn’t. What about your priest friend who’s doubling up on the ceremony with him?”

“Father Carlos is almost as laid-back as Pat. He’s got other things to worry about besides whether I’m covering my head.” She described the robbery.

“I saw something about that in the paper,” Michael said. “You guys working on that case?”

“Now I remember,” Frank’s mother said. “One of my sorority sisters is recovering from heart surgery. Father Carlos’ assistant is one of the priests that make sick visits. I was visiting her and met him. Very nice young man, but looked like he hadn’t slept well in weeks.”

Giulia’s ears shut out the conversation because she didn’t like what she was thinking. She shouldn’t think it during wedding favor night anyway. Wrong place, wrong time. She locked the idea into a back room in her mind and picked up the new discussion topic: Ordering pizzas for the rehearsal dinner.

VI

Giulia called the Bishop’s office Tuesday morning at eight. Father Klein, the ultra-formal priest secretary, turned into an ice sculpture when she asked the question that had kept her up half the night.

“If you’ll wait a few minutes, I’ll see if I can access that information for you.”

“Liar,” Giulia said to the hold-silence. “You’re double-checking with the Bishop. I’d do an end-run around you, but your office has the information I need all in one convenient place and we don’t have a lot of time.”

Four and a half minutes later, the ice sculpture took her off hold. “Ms. Falcone, if you’re ready I can give you the list of names.”

When Frank came in at eight-thirty bearing coffee and bagels, Giulia waved the list at him before he got his coat off.

“I hate myself for thinking this, but the church thief might be a priest.”

Frank whistled. “Evidence?”

“Your mother gave me the idea last night when she mentioned Father Robert visiting her friend. Look.” She found the whole wheat bagel and took him to her desk where she’d spread out the maps from yesterday. “I called Father Carlos and got hold of the pastors from five of the other churches this morning to get their visitation schedules. All the thefts happened when a parish needed one of the rotating priests to help out with visitations.”

She caught Frank’s puzzled expression.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Well, in theory, yes.”

She huffed. “You have neglected the upkeep of all you learned in school. It’s simple: When a parishioner is bedridden for whatever reason, they can request a priest or nun to bring them Communion. I used to do it in the summers when school was out. There are no nuns currently in the rotation, therefore I’m forced to conclude it’s one of the priests on this list.”

Frank read through the list while he drank coffee. “I’d love to wrap this up before the honeymoon, but I still don’t see how a priest could get into all these churches without breaking and entering.”

“Frank.”

“What? It’s a legitimate question.”

“Where do you think he got the Hosts to take around to these invalids?”

A long beat. “Son of a gun.”

“Bingo. No pun intended.” Giulia clicked one of the eight tabs on her screen. “I’ve got photos of all the priests on the list. Did you get a description from the pawnshop and jeweler visits?”

“Yeah, the same from both. Medium height, blond. Wore sunglasses and a ball cap, but the disguise was pretty amateur. Our thief thinks he’s being clever by using two different fences.”

Giulia hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until Frank confirmed the thief wasn’t Father Carlos. “That narrows it down. There are five blonds to choose from.” She closed three of the tabs and opened the first Pittsburgh one.

“No. He’s too thin.”

They eliminated one after the other until two tabs remained. A Franciscan from a church on the other side of Cottonwood, a new Jesuit from one of the Pittsburgh churches, and Father Robert.

“Damn,” Frank said. “Damn. I think it’s him. Robert, I mean.”

“I didn’t want to hear that.” Giulia studied the visitation list. “Give me a reason to cross him off, please. Take the next-to-last robbery, four and a half weeks ago.”

“Never mind that.” Frank poked a finger at the last address on the list. “They’re all supposed to be invalids, right? That’s the rule? Why is a single mother of twins on here then?”

Giulia followed where his finger touched. “I don’t know.”

“Call Father Carlos.”

“No. I don’t want to stress him out any more than he is already. Give me a second to think.” She waved a hand at him. “Go detect something.”

Frank laughed. “I’ll clear my email while I wait.”

Giulia stared at the photograph on her screen, the bagel cooling on her desk. If hardened thieves had a “look,” Robert didn’t possess it. He looked more like an overworked, sleep-deprived new priest. She’d known many of them. They shared a universal joke: The only people more exhausted than newly minted priests are ER interns and first-time fathers.

“Oh, crap.”

Frank said from his desk, “Insight unlocked?”

“Honestly? I hope not. I’m going out. Back eventually.”

Giulia plugged the address of the single mother into her phone. Siri navigated her to an old house broken up into small apartments three blocks east of St. Thomas’ church. She climbed to the third floor and rang the doorbell of 3-B.

A young, harried brunette opened the door. “Shh! I just got the twins to stop fussing.”

Behind her, a Star of Bethlehem quilt hung in a doorway. A clever pattern to apply to a string of robberies. Neither linear nor too close together, and easy to remember.

Giulia lied to the woman with a polite smile on her face. “Mrs. Keppler, I’m from St. Thomas’. Father Robert wanted you to know that he won’t be able to meet you to plan the Easter pageant this evening.”

“What?” Her voice was just sharp enough to set off a wail from behind the quilt. “Damn that man. If I wanted to be a single parent, I’d never have showed him the test resul—oh, shit.” Her eyes got big and frightened. “Oh, shit.”

Giulia wished she’d been wrong. “Go take care of the baby. I’ll wait.”

The brunette ran into the apartment and came out with a red-faced two-month old. She sat on the couch and nodded at the chair opposite while she soothed the baby.

“If I wasn’t so tired, I would’ve remembered that Rob would call, not send somebody from the church.” She rubbed the baby’s back. “Shh, shh, it’s naptime now. Time for sleep now.”

Giulia smiled. “What are their names?”

“Glen and Greg.” The brunette’s face hardened. “Don’t play nice. What’s going to happen to us?”

“Robert will probably be defrocked. Are you legally married?”

“Of course we are. Got married at City Hall a week after the blood test confirmed I was pregnant. I ran the nursery program at first church he was assigned to. We let things go too far too fast. No lectures, please.” She stopped rocking, and when no complaint came from the baby, said, “Who are you anyway?”

“I work for Driscoll Investigations. Robert’s been stealing gold and silver from the churches he works out of and replacing them with brass imitations. We’re investigating the robberies.”

“He did what? Oh, God.” She rocked again, but it seemed she was trying to soothe herself this time. “He’s going to jail and we’re going to be homeless.”

Giulia sat next to her and took the now-sleeping baby. “Let me put him to bed while you wash your face. Things might not be as hopeless as you fear.”

She carried Greg—or Glen—into a small room decorated with teddy bears playing baseball and football. The other twin was out like a light in an oversized crib. Giulia set his brother at the opposite end and tucked his side of the shared blanked around him.

When she came out, the brunette was at the kitchen table with a pile of tissues beside her.

“Are you just blowing smoke or do you really believe there’s a chance Robert won’t end up in jail?”

Giulia sat across from her. “Stranger things have happened. Tell me everything you can, starting with the marriage.”