Everything Old is new Again
By Ldynwaiting
Chapter Seventeen
Cold, cold, heart
Peter and Mozzie quickly walked to the post office, it was almost ten. Whoever was coming to pick up the pigment should be there soon. A bell rang as they opened the door. It was a quaint, old fashioned post office. A young woman stood behind a counter. She wore thick glasses, her brown hair was fixed in a neat bun. A plate of cookies sat on a small table in the corner next to a pot of fresh brewed coffee.
The store opened at nine am. Mozzie was told by the clerk that packages arrived nine thirty and would be ready for pick up at ten.
"Hello again, Cynthia," Mozzie said to the clerk. "This is my cousin, Aloysius Hoch. The one I told you about. He just wants to look around."
"Aloysius?" Peter growled under his breath. He couldn't believe Mozzie gave him that name.
"You're going to like it here, Mr. Hoch," Cynthia said. "I told my supervisor and he said he would love to talk to you about his books. We have fresh coffee and some cookies that I made this morning. Help yourself."
Walking into the store, Peter mumbled, "Honestly, why Aloysius?"
Mozzie whispered, "It's a good name, Suit. It means famous warrior. Will it make you happy to know Hoch is German for tall?"
That fact made him a little happy. "Books?" Peter asked. "Did you tell her I'm a bookie?"
"Relax, Suit. I said that you and Mrs. Suit moved here to start an accounting business in good ol' Webster Groves."
Painting on a fake grin Peter said to Cynthia, "Tell him if he hires me, I'll make sure his books are balanced. We're just going to check out the boxes, in case I have to ship something out."
Cynthia nodded her approval. They began to browse the different boxes displayed that was used to ship items. For now, the store was empty. Peter thought evidently Tuesday must be a slow day here. A few minutes after they entered the post office Peter heard the bell ring. He saw a small man with wispy blonde hair walk in with a cane. It had a gold top to it. Peter quickly realized that the man didn't need the cane for walking, as he spun it in the air. He guessed it was for show.
Coming to the counter, Peter heard the man say, "Picking up a package for box 1977."
"Yes, sir," Cynthia said. "It's in the back, I'll go fetch it."
Once Peter saw Cynthia go into the back of the store, he jerked his head to the door. Mozzie followed him outside. "That's the guy," Mozzie anxiously said as they hurried down the sidewalk. "We need to follow him when he comes out."
"I know how to work a stakeout," Peter hissed. "Let's get to the rental. We can't let him get away."
They parked their rented car in a spot that faced the post office. They sat in the car and waited for the man to leave. Ten minutes later they saw the blonde man coming out of the post office carrying a small cardboard box. He walked to a bright red sports car.
"That's a Chevrolet Corvette ZR-1, not cheap," Mozzie said.
"It's a 1990 model," Peter said. "It's not that impressive."
The man sat down in the car, he placed the box on the passenger seat. Starting it, Peter noticed that he was having a hard time. "Guess they need to buy a newer model."
"Yeah," Mozzie said, in a deadly voice. "I bet that's one of the reasons why they took Neal."
"I'd hate to think all this was for a new sports car," Peter mumbled.
Finally getting the car started, the man drove away. Giving him a small head start, Peter followed him.
"This is it, Suit," Mozzie anxiously said. He found it hard to sit still. "I want to tell you not to worry about me. I can take care of myself."
Peter saw a look of determination on Mozzie's face. He was a good friend of Neal, he really wanted to help. But he had already decided once they found the place where the pigments were going, he would make sure Mozzie stayed back. If he were injured in any way, he couldn't stand to have it on his conscious. Also, Neal would kill him if anything happened to Mozzie.
Neal had begun sketching the lady from La Parisienne just before Albert left to pick up the Lapis Lazuli.The lady was going to be easy, creating the background was going to be the most difficult part. He needed to duplicate every stroke of Renoir's.
At eleven thirty Albert walked into the studio carrying a small box. He placed it on a table. Stepping back, he said, "Nolano, open it." Nolano pulled out a large knife from a sheath that hung on his belt, he used it to open the box. Neal reverently took out four bottles. He knew he was holding the most expensive pigment made.
"I paid a lot for that," Albert said. "What's it made of, gold?"
"It's worth more than gold," Neal said. "Lapis Lazuli is Latin for heavens stone."
"For what I paid for it, I'm charging the customer twice what he offered. Is it enough to paint her?"
"It's enough," Neal said. He had only used this pigment once when Peintre was teaching him how to paint. Even then it was a year after he began teaching him that he trusted in his skill to use it, it was too expensive to waste a single gram.
"When will you be able to finish her?" Albert asked Neal. "You have two others to do."
Neal walked back to the easel. Picking up a charcoal, he continued sketching the woman in the painting. "This one will take me three days."
Neal heard, "Why so long?" from behind. Neal saw Sullivan standing in the parlor doorway. Dressed in a white silk shirt and wool pants, he was holding a bag of ice on his head.
"I see Lilith has started dressing you," Neal said.
Sullivan groaned, painfully grinning he pulled up the collar on his shirt. "I'm not too proud to take gifts from a pretty woman."
Neal had to bite his tongue to keep from saying what he was thinking. Albert, however, didn't even try. He burst out laughing. "Pretty woman, Lilith? Must be the brandy talking. A word of advice, when drinking with my sister, just say no."
Sullivan's brows knit in anger. "I see her in a different light."
"It must have been a blinding light," Albert said to Neal.
"Fuck off," Sullivan barked.
Neal chuckled at Albert's joke. He saw Sullivan's eyes grow darker. "I asked you why it's going to take so long, Caffrey?"
With Albert there, Neal wasn't afraid of standing up to Sullivan. He held the photo of the painting up. "It's going to take me three days because it has a blue gray background. The colors were done in looser more haphazard strokes. I need to match it exactly. Unless you know of a faster way?"
"Just get to work!" Sullivan shouted. He immediately regretted it as his headache reminded him of last night's binge. "Look, you got your special colors, start painting. Once we sell this one Lilith said she's going to show me Monaco."
"She is?" Albert said. "Damn her, she's already spending our money as we get it. If you'll excuse me, we're about to have a very loud family meeting."
Albert looked Sullivan in the eye. "Don't even think of touching him again, Rory. Neal is irreplaceable, you are not. Remember that." He then stormed out of the room.
"Irreplaceable my ass," Sullivan mumbled, he remained standing in the doorway nursing his headache. He watched Neal sketching a woman on the canvas. "Never thought I'd have to depend on an irreplaceable convicted con to keep meat on my table."
"I really have no choice, do I?" Neal softly replied.
"Peter never knew what he had," Sullivan said. He slowly stepped into the studio. Nolano watched him closely, he waited for him to pass an invisible line. The line that meant he was too close to Neal.
"All these years," Sullivan said. "He could have been using you to fatten up his bank account. I read your file, know all about your many special skills. If he looked the other way, you could have made a lot of money for him."
"Peter said you worked with him," Neal said. He was working on the woman's face.
"Yeah, that's right," Sullivan said, "What's your point?"
Neal stopped sketching. Turning he looked at Sullivan. "Then you would know that Peter wouldn't even think of using my skills for his benefit. He still believes in what he was taught at Quantico, that the law is the right and only way."
"Yeah, I saw that in him, fucking do-gooder. That's why we were never friends. He had his way, and I had mine. We both managed to close our cases, but the scum I caught ended up banged up." Sullivan took a step closer to Neal.
Neal saw that grin again, the one he saw as Sullivan stabbed him. The one he wore as he maliciously twisted the knife, just before he blacked out. It was a smile that told him he enjoyed hurting people. Neal noticed that Nolano had his hand on the hilt of his knife.
Sullivan had crossed the line, he stood to close to Neal. Nolano grasped his knife. He kept his eyes trained on him. One step closer and he would bury his knife in his gut.
Sullivan noticed the intense look on Nolano's face. "I'm not here to start trouble, Nolano. I'm not going to hurt him again, at least for now. I'm anxious to go to Monaco. Always heard people talk about being there, this time I'm going to see it with my own eyes."
Sullivan groaned, the ice in the pack was melting. "Just keep working, Caffrey. I need to fill this thing. I don't think I'm ever going to drink a drop of that brandy again." Moaning, he stumbled out of the studio and into the parlor.
Nolano didn't take his hand off his knife until Sullivan was long gone.
"Thank you, Nolano," Neal said. "But I think in the state Lilith left him in from last night, even with this shoulder, I'd be able to handle him."
"This is my job, Mr. Caffrey. To protect you. You will not have to worry about him hurting you anymore."
The image of Neal on the floor in his room was burned in Nolano's mind. When Albert first mentioned bringing Neal to the house, he was glad to help. He always liked Neal. Once he was here painting again, it was as if Peintre had returned. But after seeing him hurt, he began to regret agreeing to help Albert and Lilith bring Neal back to the home. He had forgotten about a promise he made. He swore that he would never forget again.
As Neal continued sketching, he glanced at the four bottles filled with a bright blue pigment. It was nearly noon. He really had no idea if Peter was able to use the pigment to find him. If Peter was here, he would most likely try to enter the house after the sun set. As he worked on getting her face right, he wished that this day would go by quickly.
By evening, Neal was practicing painting the background on another canvas before attempting to paint the forgery. He knew it was going to be the most difficult part of the painting. He stared at the strokes on the photo and painted it in his mind. He tried to duplicate a stroke on the canvas. It just wasn't right. He angrily growled and threw his brush in a cup.
"When father reached a bump, he would walk away," Lilith said.
Smelling the cool night air, Neal turned, he saw her standing in the patio doorway.
"This isn't a bump, Lilith. It's mount Everest. It's not controlled precise strokes, but chaos. I have to get it right to protect my friends."
Nolano could clearly see he was upset and tired. He still hadn't fully recovered from Sullivan's attack. Lilith also had a familiar and dangerous look on her face. He would try to get Neal back to his room and safely away from her. "It is late, Mr. Caffrey. You should rest. Perhaps in your dreams you will conquer this mountain."
"Nolano, leave us," Lilith ordered him. "It's been a long time since Neal, and I have had a good conversation."
Bowing, Nolano slowly left the room, but he remained at the doors entrance. Happy they were alone, Lilith closed the patio doors.
"Could you leave one ajar, please," Neal asked her. "The fumes can be strong in here.
"Of course," she sung. She left one door slightly open. Pleasantly smiling at him, she practically glided to Neal. Her face may have aged since he last saw her, but she never lost a step. Her walk exuded sex.
Neal knew exactly what she wanted. He now realized that Sullivan wasn't totally on her radar. He never stopped being her target. "I'm not playing your little game, Lilith," he warned her.
Lilith practically purred, "What game is that, sweet Neal?"
As she smiled, he noticed for the first time since he met her, she was not wearing makeup. A look of disgust flowed across his face as he finally saw the true Lilith. Her beautiful looks were long gone, marred by the ugliness that lived within.
Lilith saw him looking at her with revulsion. She made a point of not wearing makeup just for him, so he could see her natural beauty. She quickly went from a sexy cat to a savage lioness. She swiftly moved to Neal. "How dare you look at me that way!" she angrily hissed. "No man looks at me like that."
She picked up a palette knife and lunged toward Neal. Neal tightly gripped her wrist. He struggled to make her release the blade. He gasped, "And you wonder why I want nothing to do with you?"
Lilith's strength was driven by her anger. Neal fought to keep the sharp blade back. "Lilith, how did you expect me to react? You kidnapped me, threatened my friends," he grunted as the knife came closer to him. "Forced me to create paintings for you to sell. I'm doing what you want, but there is nothing you can say or do to make me love you. That is something that existed only in your mind, for me it never has been and never will be there."
Lilith's anger grew, her other hand lashed out, her long nails stabbed through the shirt's thin material and into the wound on his shoulder. He gasped in pain, but he did not release his hold on her until she dropped the palette knife. He stepped back, pulling away from her grip. He held his shoulder, the pain was sharp and deep.
Tears began to stream down her cheeks. "I was so beautiful when I was young. No man could say no to me. Until you came into this house. You could have showed me something," she cried out. "But there was never a look my way, never a loving glance. You only cared about what my father could teach you. Once you left, I never stopped thinking about you. Never forgot those beautiful blue eyes. I know about the beautiful women that threw themselves at you, women that you looked at and loved. Why not me?"
Neal coldly gazed at her. "From the first day I came into this house I saw you for what you were, Lilith. Cruel and vicious. There was never any love for anyone but yourself in that cold heart. I was not going to end up on the reject pile with all your other conquests. I couldn't get out of this house fast enough. Once I left you were never in my thoughts. No matter how long I remain in this house, that will not change." The ugliness inside of her was hidden by her beauty. At the time he left it began to appear. Her looks now fully mirrored her cold heart.
Wiping her eyes, she whispered, "I may never have your love, sweet Neal, but your life is now mine." She lay her head on her shoulder, "Rory loves me, as much as he hates you."
"You both deserve each other," Neal said.
"I'm taking him to Monaco with me, to spend all that lovely money we'll be making from your paintings. Rory said that he is going to make sure that you'll be working for us for an exceedingly long time. You'll never leave this place as long as I live." Spinning around she stormed out of the room.
