Happy New Year's and may we all welcome 2021 with love and hope in our hearts. May we hold our loved ones close very soon, and celebrate together next year.
For Anna…Always.
A LIFETIME OF LOVE
They met at the Starbucks on 23 Avenue de Wagram. Clarice had a Grande frappe-one-thing-or-another—having absolutely no idea what the hell to order. Hannibal made cappuccino to perfection daily, so they rarely had coffee out. There were a few local restaurants where they enjoyed a cup or two with dessert, but never a coffee-on-every-damned-corner establishment, so she gave Dee her card, took a seat and left her to order for them. They sipped and chatted, Clarice noting how happy Ardelia looked. "Thanks for coming with me, Dee. You know most of the people we know walked away from me when I came out about H. I'm really grateful for your friendship."
Ardelia lifted her chai tea latte, offering to tap her cup to Clarice's to toast their friendship.
"Thanks for coming along, Dee. I really appreciate the company. I lost a lot of people when H and I went public with our relationship. Thanks for sticking by me."
"No thanks necessary, Clarice. You know I've got your back from all the way back," Ardelia assured. "I was a put off at first, but you're both cut from different cloths than most people— it's as if you two were made to love each other. I get that. You tried to fight it…so did he, I'll bet, but it was always going to end up this way. You were just meant to be together. Nothing or no one was going to stop it. Screw anyone else who doesn't. Are you ready to get this over with?"
"Ready, but first we need to make a stop or two. I need some supplies."
They headed southwest on Avenue de Wagram toward Rue Brey. They turned right onto Rue Brey, then a left onto Avenue Mac-Mahon, walking through the streets of Paris with purpose They stopped at number 14.
"A pharmacy? You run out of birth control?" Ardelia joked.
Clarice rolled her eyes. "Trust me, as potent has H is I don't take any chances with that." She entered the pharmacy and began searching the shelves. Seeing nothing of use to her, she did a quick Google search on her phone. "Not exactly outfitted like the corner CVS."
Ardelia nodded. "Yeah, pretty much just health-related items in a pharmacy…who would've guessed that? What're you looking for?"
"Altoids."
"Altoids? Random." Ardelia began looking around the aisles. Returning to Clarice, who'd been doing the same, she informed, "Yeah…nothing like that here. Ideas?"
Clarice thought for a moment. "I know of a place...we were out with the kids looking for gum for the flight back, and H found a store. The Real McCoy, I think it was called. I only remember because I may have made a few corny as hell damn-it-Jim-I'm-a-doctor-not-a-miracle-worker jokes for the rest of the night. Pissed H off pretty bad, but hey, the sex that night was fun. Turns out he does a hell of a Scotty impersonation. Hilarious!"
She tugged Ardelia by the arm and out onto the street. Clarice was moving faster than was her habit in her Yves Saint Laurent green blazer and nearly-thigh-high black leather boots. Ardelia, tumbling heals a full inch lower than hers, snatched Clarice by the elbow to slow her down. "I'm not going for the oafish American look this season, C. Slow down a little, okay?"
Clarice slowed to a more manageable pace. "Out of shape since you left the bureau?"
"Thanks." Ardelia's relief was obvious. "Not out of shape, but I was definitely exceeding the maximum speed for my Christian Louboutins. I mean…they're a lot like me—built for grace, not distance running."
"Built for grace?" Clarice teased, "Hell, for $700 bucks a pair, they'd better climb mountains if the situation demands it."
Her ankle turning slightly each time she placed her right foot, Ardelia grabbed Clarice's arm and hopped for a moment, checking the heel of her right shoe. "They're built for pressing against on Logan's chest as I tug his tie from around his neck and push him onto the bed— that's when they're most useful." Strutting on her now-righted shoes, Ardelia bellowed with laughter over whatever visual that memory produced. Clarice was relieved she didn't have the same image burned in her mind.
"Why the hell are we on the case tonight— especially dressed like this? Your man not up to this?"
"Not up to it? For the love of all that's holy, please don't ever say crap like that in front of H, he'll have a damned fit." Clarice put the address into her phone's GPS and began to follow the map directions. She kept one eye on the GPS and another eye on the path they were walking. "He's not a pittie I let off the leash when I need an attack dog. And what do you mean 'dressed like this'? Do we need to look like clueless Americans wandering around Paris wearing nothing better than worn Chuck Taylors and torn jeans?"
"You like worn Chuck Taylors and torn jeans. Hell, you wear them all the time— they're your default at-home clothing setting."
"Paris isn't my home."
"So a green checkered blazer and nearly-thigh-high boots are more appropriate for a shopping trip? What's that? When in Rome?"
"Something like that. And it's not a green checkered blazer. The pattern is a green archival plaid— at least that's what H said when he came back to the hotel with it. All I care is that the jacket is warm, and I don't stand out like a rube. After all, we aren't going to Walmart, Dee."
A well-scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste…
Clarice checked for oncoming traffic, then pulled Ardelia across a busy street toward a business with very clear American influences.
Ardelia gasped as she stood outside the storefront. "Speaking of rubes, they have Mountain Dew for sale by the case! I'm too lazy to drag that around all night, but I'm coming back for that bad boy tomorrow!"
"They have lots of American candy, too."
"Clarice, check it out! They have Twinkies and M&Ms! I'll pick up Dev and Angel tomorrow. You can go out to lunch with Hannibal or whatever and I'll bring Logan and the kids here, if that's okay with you. He looks a lot less ridiculous running screaming through a candy store if he's following the kids."
"Sure, they'd love it." Clarice grabbed two packs of Altoids. "If you're bringing them back here tomorrow I won't tell them we came today." She placed the mints on the counter, and checked out quickly. Waving away a bag, she tucked the rectangular metal containers in her pocket. Within two to three minutes they'd entered, paid and already walked out into the store.
"Well that was a quickie. Question?" Ardelia asked.
Clarice tucked the mints in her pocket. "Answer."
"We just walked halfway around Paris for two containers of Altoids? You can't be that worried about your breath. And why are we doing this and not your incredibly stealthy and morally-flexible husband?"
"Because, as you can see, this isn't going to be much more than a glorified shopping trip and a quick visit to Popil's. As for why I'm handling it, honestly, H isn't bothered by Popil— I am, and I can't just bitch about every perceived threat then leave everything up to him, Dee. Seriously, this old man isn't really a danger to the family, he's more a nuisance than anything else, but I can't have Hannibal tangling with him. It's too messy. Too unpredictable, and the costs if Popil does something stupid would be too high."
"Okay, what's the game plan?"
"I need his keys."
"Car?"
"C'mon, you've seen the guy. He's too damned decrepit to drive. I need about ten seconds alone with the keys to his house."
"You need ten seconds alone with the keys to his house?" Ardelia stopped in her tracks
and with an expression that Clarice might describe as incredulous, grabbed Clarice by the elbow. Turning her so they'd face each other, she asked, "How in the fresh hell are we going to get the keys to his house without him noticing we've stolen them and calling all his buddy-cop friends to hunt us down by our stiletto tracks?"
Clarice pulled her arm back. Not a hard yank, but more of a come-the-hell-on-I-don't-have-time-for-this sort of tug. "I'm not going to steal them. I only need to borrow them for a few seconds." She stepped off the curb and began waving at passing taxis to signal for a ride. "I spent some time in his kitchen. He has a little wooden plaque with brass hooks on the wall next to an old landline phone. He had his keys hanging there. I only need a couple of uninterrupted seconds as long as the keys are there, we'll be in and out in a flash. We just need to stop at a toy store across town. Well…that and an art shop…oh, and a bakery to get a treat to bring to Popil's. He doesn't eat much, but he's got a sweet tooth."
A cab pulled beside them. Clarice held the door open for Ardelia, then hopped in herself. He nodded, and Clarice had a thought. "What do you make per hour? I'd like to engage the cab for the night, if that's possible. We have multiple stops in a variety of neighborhoods and I don't really feel like flagging down cabs every ten or fifteen minutes. Would $500 be enough, in addition to the cost per km of course, for three or four hours-worth of work?"
He considered her from the rearview mirror. "Five hundred euros?"
"Not including a tip, and trust me. I'm generous."
"To a fault." Ardelia added, "Say yes, please. My feet are killing me."
The cab driver agreed, "Where are you going?"
"PicWicToys15 Parvis de La Défense, please," she directed the cab driver.
It was a quick drive down the Avenue Charles De Gaulle, and a loop around to the destination. The entire drive took ten or twelve minutes at most. The driver parked.
"I'll wait here. Take your time."
"I won't be long," Clarice offered, slipping out of the cab. "You might as well stay here, Dee. No sense us both going in for such a quick purchase."
Ardelia waved. "Do your thing. I'm good."
Clarice walked briskly into the toy store, finding an employee standing nearby. "Où gardez-vous le Play-Doh?" she asked.
He was handsome, with dark eyes and a dimpled smile. He smiled widely, his bright teeth shining. "Américaine?"
It was more a statement of fact than a question. Her accent must not be as good as she hoped. "Oui."
"Très bon." The young man gestured for her to follow him, walked her to an aisle and pointed. "Play-Doh."
A thank you was all that was needed. "Je vous remercie."
"De rien," he responded with a nod and a smile.
Clarice paid for the Play-Doh, and returned to the cab, hopping in so quickly she slid across the back seat and bumped into Ardelia. "Sorry Dee. Two more stops, then on to Popil." She leaned toward the driver. "Next stop, Sennelier store, 3, Quai Voltaire, please. Park at Louvre Carousel - Saint Germain des Près – Montalembert."
The driver nodded, but didn't speak. Instead he smiled and hummed quietly. Clarice thought herself lucky to have chosen his cab. He minded his business, likely counting his money in his head rather than question her motives. Smart man. Clarice hopped in and out of the car, returning with a bag that appeared heavier than the others. She placed it on the floor and tucked it under the front passenger seat. The next stop was the bakery Popil frequented. Clarice and Ardelia went inside together, choosing a selection of pastry and treats they thought might tempt Popil. They returned with bags of treats and baked goods for their family, several cups of coffee to bring up to Popil's, as well as coffee and pastry for the cab driver. He'd be waiting at the next stop for several minutes, so they got him a treat for his troubles. She gave him Popil's address, and as they drove, pulled out the tin of mints and the Play-Doh.
Opening the mints, she offered them to Ardelia. Ardelia waved them away. "Nah, those are too potent for me."
Clarice shrugged. "Suit yourself." She popped one in her mouth, then unceremoniously upended the container, dumping the remainder of the mints out into the bag. Clarice then removed the protective paper within the container, holding it to one side. Next, she opened the Play-Doh, and began pressing pieces of the modeling clay into the bottom of the container. Clarice repeated the process on the lid, careful to make each layer even with the edges of the small metal box, testing its ability to close without fully closing it. She then folded the paper from the Altoids box to keep each side separate, and pressed the container closed.
"Why not just buy modeling clay in the art store? Why the extra stop?"
"Plasticine is too sticky— leaves traces." Clarice covered her tracks by adding, "Angel would get that stuff everywhere."
Ardelia watched, but didn't comment further— likely not to reveal what was happening to the cab driver. As they pulled in front of Popil's apartment, Clarice tucked the container into her pocket. "We'll be back in a few minutes. I'm just checking in on a sick friend and dropping off some pastry."
The man lifted his cup, sipping his coffee. "I'm fine. No need to rush."
Clarice had gathered the bags meant for Popil. She and Ardelia left the rest of the parcels in the cab, and as they walked up to Popil's apartment, directed, "I'll offer to help plate the pastry. If that doesn't work, you'll have to come up with a distraction while I get hold of his keys."
"Cool. Distract the old man. Easy enough, I guess."
They rang, Popil's shuffle to the door loud enough to be heard in the hall. She could see his eye peeking through the peep hole in the door. He disengaged the locks.
"Hello, Clarice."
"Hello, Pascal. This is my friend Ardelia. We were in the neighborhood and thought we'd bring some treats. May we come in— just for a moment. We don't want to intrude." She held up the tray—coffee cups nestled securely in its cardboard compartments.
"I recognize the bakery. I'll admit it's my only vice." He stepped aside. "Welcome."
The entered the apartment. Popil led them to the table, gathering up the papers scattered across it. "Excuse the mess. I don't often have visitors."
Ardelia helped him clear things up, folding newspapers and stacking them to one side.
"Why don't you plate the pastry while we clear off the table, Clarice?"
"Sounds like a plan." Clarice set the cups down, and carried the bags into the kitchen. She plated the pastry, her eyes ticked around the room. The trash was empty, save a few bags from the bakery, proving he's not eating much more than that. Honey on the counter. Maybe he spreads it on his croissants or sweetens his tea with it. She turned toward the key holder. The house keys were obvious as there was only one set. Clarice reached into her pocket, retrieving the Altoids box. She opened it, then gingerly lifted the keys from the holder, careful not to make a sound. She took the keys off the ring, removed the paper from the surface of the Play-Doh, then pressed the two keys into the clay.
She then used the paper to cover the areas of the clay where the key wasn't present, closed the lid, and pressed the box hard between her palms, ensuring a solid impression of the key. Opening it, she lifted the keys from the clay, wiped them off, careful there was no bits of clay on the key. After sliding them back on the key ring, she rinsed the keys to remove any residue, and returned them to the hook. She tucked the box into her coat pocket, relieved the entire process took only a few seconds. She returned to Popil and Ardelia with a plate of pastry. They sat and chatted, returning to the cab and the hotel in quick order. Clarice tipped the driver, who smiled widely and waved, then brought the bags she'd need to finish her task up to her suite.
The children swarmed over the treats. Hannibal took his wife into his arms, kissing her deeply. He'd been worried about her— she could feel it in his touch. She stroked her husband's face, kissing his cheeks and mouth over and over again to soothe whatever pain he'd felt deep in his soul. And he had been in so much pain before coming to her, though he'd never admit it. She thought it exceeded the grief of her life, healed the moment she took him in her arms and promised him a lifetime of love. Grief healed by love. It was a theme of this trip, she thought.
A lifetime of love. She thought of Popil, feeling sorry for the obviously broken man. She'd return to him soon enough— a visit he might or might not welcome.
Until the next chapter, my friends!
L.H.
