Nun But The Brave (A Giulia Driscoll Mystery Book 3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Maybe I should be happy the only available room had a king-sized bed.”
    The bed could accommodate her, Frank, Frank’s gaming PC, and all her research for this case. Of course, if she brought Frank into this huge bed, they’d get no paying work done at all.
    She unpacked her few clothes and inspected the coffee supplies. No, she would not be squandering her two cup per day pregnancy ration of coffee in here. The local shop she’d passed on the way from Joanne’s apartment would be her first stop tomorrow morning.
    A bite of the turkey club reinforced her belief that local shops created the tastiest food. She opened a 7-Up since caffeine was now reserved for coffee only and lucked into the last twenty minutes of Godzilla 2000 on the cable TV. The only Godzilla movie with the underlying message, “Smoking will get you stomped.”
    She set the contents of the file box on the bed and pulled out one folder after another. Joanne had left her an unexpected gift: A pocket calendar. As Godzilla’s closing music played in the background, Giulia read about birthday cake commissions, the start of hunting season, reminders to check sales prices at mega-outdoor stores, and a whole series of notes about someone named Marjorie.
    “Make vet appt. for Marjorie.” “Make more Jo’s Special for M.” On every Sunday: “M – 1 pm.”
    Giulia opened the back of the calendar. Diane’s name at the top had an old address scratched out and the address and phone number she’d given Giulia written beneath it. Below that, “Marjorie’s new cell.”
    Giulia dialed the number.

      
    Marjorie’s vintage 1950s teal ranch house was under siege by plastic pink flamingos. Their siege engines looked suspiciously like multi-level cat scratching posts.
    Giulia liked Marjorie already. She waved at the wrinkled face peeking through the lacy window curtains.
    The face disappeared and several locks snapped and rattled at the door. The door opened with one chain lock still attached.
    “Please show me some identification.”
    Marjorie’s voice was what Giulia’s father used to call a whiskey tenor: low and gravelly.
    Giulia held up her PI license. Marjorie squinted at it before closing the door. The chain slid free. Three cats streaked past Giulia when the door opened.
    “I’m Marjorie Briggs. Old women living alone can’t be too careful. Everyone thinks we’re ripe for the latest scam. Come in. You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”
    “I’m not. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
    If Giulia had been allergic, Marjorie would be calling 911 any second. Even with the windows open, the house smelled of litter boxes, canned cat food, and flowery air freshener. The carpet pile showed the reverse-nap streaks of recent vacuuming, but cat hair of every possible length and shade clung to the baseboards and the bottoms of chairs.
    “Come on into the living room. Can I get you something to drink? I’m so glad you’re trying to find Joanne. The cats miss her.”
    Giulia sat in an armchair upholstered in yellow fabric plus cat hair. A trip to the Dollar Store for a lint roller was in her near future. The chair Marjorie sat in had the same upholstery scheme.
    “Ms. Briggs, I found your phone number in Joanne’s pocket calendar.”
    “Just Marjorie, please. Ms. Briggs is my older sister, the banker. I remember that calendar. Joanne lived by it. She said calendars on those smart phones couldn’t be trusted.”
    Marjorie answered Giulia’s next leading question before she asked it: “If Joanne left behind that calendar, she may be dead after all.” Marjorie’s wrinkles scrunched together and tears appeared in her eyes.
    Giulia cut them off. “Not necessarily. There’s also the chance Joanne wanted to start a new life.”
    “Horse puckey.”
    Giulia smiled. “Why?”
    “Joanne had everything a girl could want if she wasn’t out hunting for a husband. She had two good jobs and lots of friends. She had boyfriends too. She