Force of Habit: A Falcone & Driscoll Investigation Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t think she was as depraved a sinner as all that. And whether or not she fried in Hell was up to God, not Uncle Vincenzo.
    She splashed cold water on her face, patting it dry to protect her makeup. She could help people in trouble lots better as a PI than just as an administrative assistant. More than she could in the convent, too: no habit to scare people off. If her conscience turned shrewish again, she’d deal with it on a case-by-case basis.
    Case by case. Maybe she’d do okay. She knew some of the jargon.
    Giulia opened the bathroom door, walked past her desk, and knocked on Frank’s door.
    “Yeah.”
    Frank looked up when she opened it, and raised his eyebrows. She sat in the client chair and smiled.
    “Define ‘raise.’ ”

“I hate legalese.” Giulia frowned at the multi-page Pennsylvania Private Detective Act. The noon lunch crowd swirled around them as she and Frank celebrated her promotion over cheeseburgers and onion rings.
    June didn’t get any better than this. A handful of fluffy clouds in a brilliant blue sky, and sunshine cascading over everything in sight. Little kids squealed as they splashed in the fountained wading pool in the park next to the restaurant. Every table under the awning and on the Pig-Out’s patio was filled. Cottonwood might be one of Pittsburgh’s biggest suburbs, but on days like this it resembled a popular resort rather than a steel-and-asphalt town with a population of more than 60,000.
    She sucked iced tea through a straw without picking up the glass and turned a page.
    “This is pretty clear once you get used to the language,” Frank said. “I highlighted the parts you need to know. Just start logging your hours, beginning with all the Wednesday interviews.” He inserted a whole onion ring into his mouth and followed it with several gulps of root beer. “My old captain will sign your second certificate of approval. I partnered with his son for five years, before the idiot who T-boned our squad car ruined my promising police career.” He pointed to the page in front of Giulia. “You’ll need two certificates, but that’s three years away. How much do you know about guns?”
    She swallowed a bite of cheeseburger. “Only what I’ve seen in movies.”
    “I’ll take you to the shooting range this week, and we’ll get you started.”
    “Started with what?”
    “Practice. You need to learn to shoot a gun before you can get a license.”
    She hadn’t thought about weapons. “Is that necessary?”
    “You have to know how to defend yourself.”
    “Violence begets violence, Frank.”
    He coughed on a mouthful of root beer. “You sound like my grandmother.”
    “Just because I’m not in habit doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned Franciscan principles.”
    “Giulia, it’s the twenty-first century. Save all the homeless animals you want—Saint Francis was the animal guy, right?—but eventually you’ll end up serving a subpoena on a loser with a .45.”
    “But—”
    “And he won’t think you’re a cute gal who’s kind to kids and dogs. He’ll think you’re the enemy, and you’d better be prepared for it.” He wagged his straw at her. “You took this job. It involves some things you might not like.”
    She picked a sesame seed off her bun. This morning she’d thought she’d made the right decision.
    He finished his burger and frowned at her. “What kind of shape are you in?”
    The kosher pickle in her hand froze halfway to her mouth. “I beg your pardon?”
    “I’m not coming on to you.” A moment later he laughed. “Are you blushing?”
    She chomped the pickle. “No.”
    “You should get out more. I meant, do you run or lift weights or anything?”
    “Oh.” Maybe she should get out more. “I run two miles a day—usually.”
    “Not enough. Make a fist.”
    “There are people here.” Her ears pulsed. They had to be fire-engine red.
    “Who cares?”
    “You’re not going to feel my arm.”
    “Just let me—”
    “Back off,