Tags:
Fiction,
Mystery,
amateur sleuth,
Murder,
private investigator,
soft-boiled,
murder mystery,
mystery novels,
amateur sleuth novel,
medium-boiled,
PI,
private eye,
Nuns
to the circle, pointed to her own forehead, and pointed to the paper again.
Sister Theresa entered, sporting a quilted flowery bathrobe and a typical case of veil-head.
âSister Arnulf, Iâve been looking everywhere for you. Sister Regina Coelis, I know she doesnât mean to be a nuisance.â
Sister Arnulf glanced at her babysitter and bent over Giulia. Her thin, wrinkled fingers patted Giuliaâs cheeks, then her own. She touched Giuliaâs forehead, then her own where sheâd drawn the dark spot on the paper. Finally she circled her throat with one hand and pointed to the invisible mark with the other.
Giulia held up both hands in a helpless gesture.
Sister Arnulf made a frustrated noise. âÃr du dum?â
Sister Theresa put a hand on Sister Arnulfâs arm. âSängâThat means bed,â she said to Giulia.
Sister Arnulf slapped the desk and the other two stared at her. The little nunâs body was tensed like she was ready for a fight. Then a moment later she relaxed and nodded at Sister Theresa.
âSorry. Sheâs wandering even more this week.â She cinched her robe. âYouâd never think such a sweet old lady bombed Nazi arms depots in World War Two, would you?â
âNot in a hundred years. I didnât know there was a Swedish resistance in the war.â
âPoor little Sister Bridget told me about it. They were sort of an adjunct to the Norwegian resistance. But if even half the stories she told Sister Bridget were true, our friend here was once a force to be reckoned with.â
âAre you saying she flew bombers?â
âNo, no. She was barely fifteen then. She and her school friends became pipe bomb experts.â
Sister Arnulf looked at them with her head slightly tilted. Giulia was reminded of a cat trying to anticipate a birdâs next move.
Giulia stuffed the pencil sketch in her empty pocket. âGood night, Sisters.â
Sister Arnulf nodded when the paper disappeared. Giulia stared after them until the high crown of the older Sisterâs veil disappeared down the staircase.
âFirst thing tomorrow Iâm texting Sidney with another set of basic Swedish phrases.â
Her plans scattered when she opened her door. Someone had searched her room.
Fourteen
âFabian, you underhandedââ Giulia stopped herself before the curse left her tongue. âIt canât be anyone else but her. No one else knows why Iâm here. No one else cares.â
She closed the door. âShut up, Falcone. One, youâre talking to yourself. Two, these walls are laughably thin. Three, most of them are sleeping and without other sound to mask it, your voice will carry even easier.â
She yanked and tugged the stuck top drawer of the desk until it straightened on its worn track. âFabianâs a Scooby-Doo level sleuth if she leaves clues this obvious. Everyone knows these drawers stick on their runners until you learn the trick to them. Everyone except Fabian with her fancy furniture. â
The folder about Sister Bridget was on the opposite side of the drawer now. Giulia opened it to a crinkled top page.
âToo bad for her Iâd only written up one spreadsheetâs worth of notes.â She turned over each page. Two more were wrinkled. âNothingâs missing â¦â She catalogued her memories of each page. âRight. Itâs all there. Thank the Lord I keep my cell in my pocket.â She smirked. âAnd that I didnât bring the Cosmo .â
She turned in place and opened her dresser drawer.
âIck. She pawed my underwear.â A giggle bubbled up. âIf only I could ask her what she thinks of the lace and bright colors. So inappropriate for a Sister of Saint Francis, donât you know.â
She crept to the door and inched it open. Every other room on the floor was dark, but that meant nothing. She closed herself back in and texted Frank.
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