Read Online Force of Habit: A Falcone & Driscoll Investigation by Alice Loweecey - Free Book Online
Authors: Alice Loweecey
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, amateur sleuth, Murder, private investigator, soft-boiled, murder mystery, mystery novels, amateur sleuth novel, medium-boiled, PI, private eye
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be at this class tomorrow night.”
He opened his door but stopped in the doorway. “It’s twenty-five dollars. Do you need to expense it?”
That stung. “I’m not destitute.”
“Good.” He closed the door between them.
Giulia propped her elbows on her desk, the spreadsheet as unimportant as yesterday’s weather.
She gave him too much lip earlier. He was the boss. She couldn’t forget that. She needed to—oh, no—sit down, shut up, and obey. A noise came from her throat that actually sounded like a growl.
He wasn’t the Superior General. She wasn’t under vows to him. Only employee-employer agreements. She had to do what he said at work, but he didn’t own her, body and soul, 24/7. That was the difference. She was free in every way that mattered.
She picked up the phone and dialed. A deep male voice answered on the second ring. She still didn’t want to do this, but... “I’d like to register for your self-defense class tomorrow night... Do you prefer cash or debit card?... Sweats and a T-shirt, fine... What bus line are you on?... Thanks.”
_____
Twelve women in sweats including Giulia, seven female and five male instructors wearing those white karate uniforms... what were they called... and thick cloth belts. Nine brown and three black.
Giulia tapped the shoulder of the older woman next to her. “Brown and black belts are for the most experienced students, aren’t they?” she whispered. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
The woman smiled. “Don’t worry. My sister took this class last month. All the instructors are trained to be extra-controlled around us weenies.”
Before Giulia could reply, the school’s owner began his soft-sell pitch. The fees for twice-weekly regular instruction were astronomical and the bus transfer times inconvenient. Giulia pasted politeness on her face and squinted at the Japanese characters painted above the mirrored wall. The translation was too small to see from her back corner. During the skills demonstration, every time the owner and his instructors executed kicks and spins, a disinfectant-laden breeze wafted over her head. The frayed gym-mat corner tickled her bare foot, and she crossed her legs instead.
The demonstration lasted fifteen minutes, and left Giulia in awe of their collective strength. Those loose uniforms hid some impressive muscles.
“Every hold has a weak point.” The owner of the school held up his arms and grasped his own wrist. “Watch my thumb and index finger. Pressure applied to this opening is the key to breaking this hold.” He pushed against his fingers, and his trapped wrist slid out.
He toweled the sweat from his graying crew cut and arranged Giulia and the rest of the class in pairs to practice. Giulia held out her hand to her linebacker-sized partner. He bowed. She dropped her hand and returned the bow.
Great. Not only had she forgotten karate etiquette already, but now a strange man got to touch her. She’d never remember these lessons. Too obsessed about getting over ten years of “your body is Christ’s temple and no human man should ever touch it.”
Thanks, Postulant and Novice Mistresses. And thank you, Frank, for guilting me into this.
“Now you’ll learn to do the unexpected.” The owner beckoned to one of the female black-belt instructors and gripped her forearm. “When an attacker grabs you, what is your instinctive reaction?”
The instructor planted her feet and yanked her arm. Giulia would’ve done the same.
The owner answered his rhetorical question. “To pull away. Assuming the attacker is taller and stronger than you, this gives him an even bigger advantage. Watch.” With little effort, he flexed his bicep and pulled the resisting instructor tight against his chest. “Now you’re in his power.”
He released the instructor, and she backed away one step.
“But if you move into his hold—” This time she stepped forward when he clutched her wrist, bending their arms double
He opened his door but stopped in the doorway. “It’s twenty-five dollars. Do you need to expense it?”
That stung. “I’m not destitute.”
“Good.” He closed the door between them.
Giulia propped her elbows on her desk, the spreadsheet as unimportant as yesterday’s weather.
She gave him too much lip earlier. He was the boss. She couldn’t forget that. She needed to—oh, no—sit down, shut up, and obey. A noise came from her throat that actually sounded like a growl.
He wasn’t the Superior General. She wasn’t under vows to him. Only employee-employer agreements. She had to do what he said at work, but he didn’t own her, body and soul, 24/7. That was the difference. She was free in every way that mattered.
She picked up the phone and dialed. A deep male voice answered on the second ring. She still didn’t want to do this, but... “I’d like to register for your self-defense class tomorrow night... Do you prefer cash or debit card?... Sweats and a T-shirt, fine... What bus line are you on?... Thanks.”
_____
Twelve women in sweats including Giulia, seven female and five male instructors wearing those white karate uniforms... what were they called... and thick cloth belts. Nine brown and three black.
Giulia tapped the shoulder of the older woman next to her. “Brown and black belts are for the most experienced students, aren’t they?” she whispered. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
The woman smiled. “Don’t worry. My sister took this class last month. All the instructors are trained to be extra-controlled around us weenies.”
Before Giulia could reply, the school’s owner began his soft-sell pitch. The fees for twice-weekly regular instruction were astronomical and the bus transfer times inconvenient. Giulia pasted politeness on her face and squinted at the Japanese characters painted above the mirrored wall. The translation was too small to see from her back corner. During the skills demonstration, every time the owner and his instructors executed kicks and spins, a disinfectant-laden breeze wafted over her head. The frayed gym-mat corner tickled her bare foot, and she crossed her legs instead.
The demonstration lasted fifteen minutes, and left Giulia in awe of their collective strength. Those loose uniforms hid some impressive muscles.
“Every hold has a weak point.” The owner of the school held up his arms and grasped his own wrist. “Watch my thumb and index finger. Pressure applied to this opening is the key to breaking this hold.” He pushed against his fingers, and his trapped wrist slid out.
He toweled the sweat from his graying crew cut and arranged Giulia and the rest of the class in pairs to practice. Giulia held out her hand to her linebacker-sized partner. He bowed. She dropped her hand and returned the bow.
Great. Not only had she forgotten karate etiquette already, but now a strange man got to touch her. She’d never remember these lessons. Too obsessed about getting over ten years of “your body is Christ’s temple and no human man should ever touch it.”
Thanks, Postulant and Novice Mistresses. And thank you, Frank, for guilting me into this.
“Now you’ll learn to do the unexpected.” The owner beckoned to one of the female black-belt instructors and gripped her forearm. “When an attacker grabs you, what is your instinctive reaction?”
The instructor planted her feet and yanked her arm. Giulia would’ve done the same.
The owner answered his rhetorical question. “To pull away. Assuming the attacker is taller and stronger than you, this gives him an even bigger advantage. Watch.” With little effort, he flexed his bicep and pulled the resisting instructor tight against his chest. “Now you’re in his power.”
He released the instructor, and she backed away one step.
“But if you move into his hold—” This time she stepped forward when he clutched her wrist, bending their arms double
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