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Force of Habit: A Falcone & Driscoll Investigation 2011 by Alice Loweecey.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First e-book edition 2011
E-book ISBN: 9780738729213
Book design and format by Donna Burch
Cover design by Ellen Lawson
Cover art Ray Laskowitz/Purestock/PunchStock
Editing by Brett Fechheimer
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Giulia Falconeformerly Sister Mary Regina Coelispopped a tangerine Life Saver in her mouth to stifle a curse.
No wonder the client was desperate. She would be too if a stalker had sent her notes that escalated from adoring to obsessive. Given the choice, shed rather be chased by a rabid Doberman.
The office door squeaked, letting in the aroma of fresh coffee. Giulia looked up. Light from the hallway glinted off the title on the frosted glass: Driscoll Investigations .
Frank Driscoll stood in the doorway, a steaming cup in each hand. Any ideas?
I enjoy having a boss who looks like Nick Charles bring me coffee. Giulia tilted her head to one side. If you put on the suit jacket, youd be the image of that classic detective.
Franks blue shirt, gray shadow-striped tie, and charcoal trousers sat well on his muscled, six-foot-tall body. Very well.
Stop it, Giulia. Hes the boss.
She pushed the notes away. This is one sick broad. Why couldnt you need help with a nicer case? Like someone looking for their long-lost twin sister.
You figured out the messages? Frank kicked the door closed and set a sleeved paper cup next to her. I apologize for the cup, but Common Grounds doesnt have espresso-sized paper.
I worship you. She removed the lid, inhaled, and sipped. I take it back. I worship their espresso.
Women are fickle.
She swallowed a smart remark after a glance at the challenge in his grinning, freckled face. As your dutiful assistant, Ill graciously overlook that.
Frank went into his office and rolled his chair next to her. Tell me what the letters mean.
They mean that this woman needs to learn the true nature of love. Stalking her ex with the Song of Solomon is wrong on so many levels.
What makes that wrong? Whats the Song of Solomon?
Heathen. Ever hear of the Bible? The Song of Solomon is probably the most beautiful love poem ever written. She sipped espresso. Its also filled with euphemisms for mens and womens naughty bits.
He picked up one of the messages. Really? I dont see that in here.
Shes leading up to it. The first one was innocuous. But think about the second one: Your love is more delightful than wine. Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes. Take me away with youlet us hurry!
Frank slurped from his own paper cup. I wouldnt mind a woman writing that about me.
Men. All ego and appetite. You would if she sent your fiance a message that says, Tremble, you complacent woman; shudder, you who feel secure! Beat your breasts, for you will be completely forsaken.
Thats part of the greatest love poem?
No. Its from one of the Prophets, I think.
You dont know? Im shocked. Didnt you teach this stuff when you were Sister Mary-whatever-you-were?
I tried not to rub the kids noses in the R-rated parts. Giulia tilted the cup to get the last intense mouthful. What about you? Didnt the nuns teach you anything in school? You come from a good Irish Catholic family.
My brothers gave me all their hoarded cheat sheets. Frank leaned back in the chair and scooted away. Ill go to Confession on Saturday. He stood and opened the window. The early June breeze filled the room with fresh air and the smell of frying sausage from the pizza place across the street.
The phone rang.
Good afternoon, Driscoll Investigations. Giulia aimed her empty cup at the trash while listening. One moment, please. She hit the Hold button. Its Mr. Parker. Want to take it in your office?
Nah. Frank rolled back to her desk, hand extended. She hit Hold again.
Frank here, Blake... Already?... What was in the box?... Okay. He made a gimme gesture, and Giulia handed him pen and paper.
Calm down. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder and scribbled. Heres what I need you to do. Bring me the package and a list of everyone youve dated in the past three years... Of course, names, addresses, and phone numbers... See you at six.
He lobbed the phone at Giulia and she hung it up.
More letters?
The Golden Boy of Cottonwood, Pennsylvania, is not happy. New deliveries to him and the Perfect Fiance.
Creepier than the others?
Hers was. A dissected snake in a jewelry box. His was a pair of lovebirds.
Dead?
Nothey came in a box that had air holes drilled in it. He shook his head. She dyed them pink and blue.
Giulia laughed. Sorry. Good heavens. How does this woman sleep at night?
He stacked the letters and tapped their edges on the desk. You sure these are all quotes from the Bible?
Ill check the Old Testament for the tremble and shudder quote tonight.
_____
Giulia jogged past St. Thomas Church as the electric carillon finished O Sanctissima and the Angelus bell rang. That meant it was six oclock. The Latin words looped in her head as she finished her last half-mile.
Oh, come on. It was high time she dragged herself into the twenty-first century and jogged to Metallica or Queen. She could stretch the budget to cover an iPod Shuffle, even though shed already pawned the plain gold wedding ring she received the day she took final vows and became a bride of Christ.
She flexed her bare left hand. After she left the convent shed kept the ring as a reminder of the mystical union shed once shared with God Himself. But money got tight when she lost the waitressing job in the Mexican place after dropping an entire stack of enchilada-filled plates. The pawnbroker gave her seventy-five dollars for the ring, and peanut butter on cheap white bread had never tasted so good.
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