"What do you mean?"
"You know," he said, "the part about you that isn't quite the way you want it to be. The part you don't like about yourself. It can be physical or mental. The point is, we're all in our lonely tower from time to time."
"Ringing our bells?"
"You got it, pumpkin. Ringing our bells. And you can ring my bell anytime you want."
* * *
By the time the sun was setting and they were having dinner at a chic bistro, Honey was beginning to have trouble with Leonard. He seemed edgy and paranoid. He was upset that the menu was in French.
"Leonard, we are in France. People speak French here. It's not the waiter's fault you can't read the menu."
"Oh, come on, they know lots of English speaking people will be trying to order off this menu. They ought to have English subtitles."
As if on cue, the waiter brought a menu written entirely in English. He handed it to Leonard like a patient teacher tutoring a child with special education needs. Without a word, he spun on his heels and went on to the next table. His forced silence and stiff body language were as sarcastic as a snooty French waiter can be.
"Do you believe that guy?" Leonard asked. "He's just begging to get no tip at all."
"Now, Leonard, let's not spoil our dinner. At least we can read the menu now."
He seemed somewhat appeased as he turned his attention to the menu. But he couldn't concentrate on the selections. He kept peering over the top of the menu and looking over Honey's shoulder and out the window.
Honey turned around to see a small group of people across the street, standing on the corner.
"Who are those people?" Leonard asked. "They keep looking over at us. Do you think something's going on over there? They look like they're up to no good."
At first, Honey thought he might be teasing her. Then she realized he was serious. "Those people are waiting for the bus, Leonard. That's all they're doing. Now, stop worrying and let's order a bottle of fine French wine. I've been waiting a long time for this moment."
Leonard turned sullen as he let Honey order the wine and then dinner. Honey tried to be cheerful. Even the waiter tried to be entertaining as he delivered artfully prepared meals and said, "Bon appetit."
Leonard tried to lighten up and enjoy the meal but he couldn't stop looking out the window. As darkness fell, the street reflections on the window seemed to confuse him.
"We'd better get out of here," he said as they were finishing the main course. "I don't like the way things are shaping up."
His tone frightened Honey. For a moment, she became caught up in his paranoia. Were they in danger? Was the bistro about to become the scene of a crime?
She looked around and gathered her thoughts. Leonard is having one of his moments. Spotting the waiter, she signaled for the check. "Leonard, I think it's time we took a little walk. The evening air will do you good. We'll get some ice cream someplace nice and take a cab back to the hotel."
Leonard hardly heard her as he got up abruptly and headed for the restroom. He disappeared, but as Honey was paying the bill, she saw him walk out of the men's room and head straight out the front door of the restaurant without so much as looking in her direction.
She tipped the waiter well as he asked if everything was all right. He had seen Leonard becoming increasingly agitated throughout dinner and had watched in disbelief as Leonard walked out the door by himself.
Honey quickly gathered her money and glasses and purse and headed out into the street to catch Leonard. He was already a block away and headed for the river. "Leonard!" she yelled as she began trotting after him. "Wait for me."
He didn't seem to hear her but he did slow down and eventually came to a stop at a concrete railing overlooking the Seine. Honey was out of breath by the time she caught up to him.
"Leonard, what's wrong? Why did you leave me? Couldn't you hear me calling for you?"
Leonard seemed surprised to see her at his side but at least he recognized her. "Honey, where have you been? I've been waiting for you here by the river. Look, isn't it beautiful the way the street lamps reflect in the water? And see the party boats serving people dinner on their cruises. We need to take one of those boats."
"Leonard you just walked out on me at the restaurant. You left me alone to pay the bill. How could you do that? Do you even remember doing that? When was the last time you took your blood pressure medication?"
"Remember my medicine?"
"No. Do you remember that we just had dinner at a restaurant?"
Leonard looked perplexed, apparently searching his memory. "Now that you mention it, I'm not that hungry. But I could use a little dish of ice cream. I'll bet it's good here."
"Where are we?"
"We're in Paris, you silly pumpkin. You know where we are."
Honey felt relieved and confused at the same time. How could he know he was in Paris and not remember the restaurant and walking out on her? For the first time, she began to think his memory problems might be more than she could handle. He seemed to have blackouts and bouts of paranoia every now and then. Now that she thought about it, these problems happened more often than not at sundown.
"Come on," she said, "let's get you to bed. It's been a long day. We're both tired. I'll get us a cab and we can find some ice cream near the hotel."
Six
IT WAS 1942. Gretchen Atkins watched her cousin swim toward the center of the farm lake. All she could see was wet, red hair and stroking arms. The center was more than fifty yards from the shore. Both girls knew it was deep out there but they didn't know how deep. They had been taught to always stay close to the shore. Gretchen was six years old and Emma was seven. There was no one else around. Gretchen's mother had left for a moment to bring back lunch.
The double dare was for Emma to swim to the middle, dive down and come back up with muck in her hand to prove she'd been to the bottom. That way she could tell how deep the lake was in the middle.
Gretchen stayed in the chest-deep water before the drop off to marvel at her cousin's bravery. The lake wasn't large enough to have a name but it was way too big for children to swim across. She wasn't as strong a swimmer as Emma. A part of her hoped her cousin would get tired and have to turn back. If Emma made it to the middle and came up with muck in her hand, it wouldn't be long before Gretchen would have to take up the challenge. That's the way it was. Whatever Emma did first, Gretchen had to do second.
Emma made it to the middle and yelled for Gretchen to come join her. "Come on, it's not too far, you can do it."
"I'm not coming until you show me the muck," Gretchen yelled back.
"Chicken," Emma shouted as she took a deep breath and dove for the bottom.
Gretchen watched as the surface of the lake became smooth again. Emma went under for a long time. She was down for 10 seconds, then 20, then more than 30 seconds. She was under for too long. She should have come back up by now. The lake can't be that deep. She can't hold her breath that long.
Just as Gretchen was looking around to locate the rowboat, Emma came popping up with a splash and a yell. She had muck in her hand and she was slapping the water in triumph.
But she kept splashing too much. Something was wrong. She sounded like she might be trying to scream, but Gretchen heard her own name being called out in a choking gurgle.
Emma was in trouble. She'd swallowed too much water coming up for air and she was panicking. Her head disappeared beneath the water again. Bubbles were coming to the surface. Gretchen ran for the rowboat. Her father had recently taught the girls how to row it. By the time she had both oars in the water, Emma had popped back up but with no sound this time. Her splashes were noticeably weaker.
Gretchen started rowing for the middle with all her might. One of the oars came out of the oarlock, and she had to take time to put it back in. She kept looking over her back to see how Emma was doing. By now, she was screaming Emma's name and calling for help at the same time. No one was close enough to hear her. The last she saw of he
r cousin was a hand, barely above the surface, finally letting go of the muck from the bottom of the lake.
By the time she got to where she thought Emma had gone under, Gretchen was afraid to jump in. The water looked murky and evil. She was hoping Emma would bob back up and she could grab her. The water was still. She looked around and screamed in desperation. No help was coming. It was up to her to save her cousin.
Gretchen held her nose and jumped into what felt like a watery grave. She let herself go deep down into the lake and opened up her eyes. There was nothing to be seen. Visibility was ten feet at best. She let herself keep sinking but she had to come up for air before she felt the bottom. She inhaled too much water coming up and had to grab the boat to cough out the water and clear her head.
She put her head under water and thought she saw a body floating ten feet under and a short distance away. She swam to the vision with her eyes open. She knew she was running out of time.
There was nothing there. It must have been a reflection. She swam back to the boat, being more careful not to swallow water upon resurfacing.
Gretchen screamed again when she saw her uncle Leonard running toward the lake. "Uncle Leonard, Uncle Leonard, Emma's under the water! I can't find her."
Leonard hit the pond running, determined to save his only child. His brother Daniel, Gretchen's father, was close behind and dove in as well. In a few powerful strokes they were at the boat and began diving frantically for the bottom. After the first few dives, they took off their pants and shirts and boots. Gretchen hung onto the side of the boat, sobbing. Leonard and Daniel were soon by her side, catching their breath.
The men dove down again and again, coming up empty-handed every time. The crying little girl had too much time to think. On a hunch that wouldn't go away and kept getting stronger and stronger, Gretchen decided to go down one more time and search directly under the boat. She let herself sink, feet first with her eyes closed, about eight feet into the water. It felt like Emma was calling her name. She couldn't hear anything. It was more like a voice inside her head. She felt like she was dreaming, or dying herself.
As soon as she opened her eyes, she was face to face with her cousin. It was like something out of a horror movie. Emma's lifeless eyes were wide open and her mouth appeared frozen in a silent scream. Their noses were almost touching, like looking closely into a mirror. But one side of the reflection was no longer living. Gretchen was so shocked she took in half a lung of water.
Life's terrible tragedy was communicated in that moment. Gretchen came face to face with death at much too young an age. She was so frightened and repulsed by what she saw that she pushed the body away and tried to escape to the surface. She took in even more water as she swam up for air.
On the surface, she coughed until she could speak, and then grabbed her father and said, "She's right down under the boat, Daddy. But she's not there anymore."
The brothers retrieved the body and swam it to shore. Leonard rolled his daughter over on her stomach and picked her up by the waist to drain her water. Too much brownish liquid came out. He rolled her over and started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Daniel started pushing on Emma's chest.
Gretchen stood on the shore, hoping for a miracle, but knowing her cousin was gone for good. She had never seen a dead person before. The body didn't look like Emma anymore. Something magical had left and the corpse no longer looked human. The little pink bathing suit seemed strangely out of place.
She had never seen her father or her uncle cry before. They worked desperately on Emma's body for what seemed like forever. Daniel was the first to give up. He finally had to pull Leonard off his daughter's body. The two men hugged and sobbed into each other's arms. They took Gretchen into their grief circle and squeezed her tightly.
That horrifying moment underwater, face-to-face, would change Gretchen's life forever. The death of her cousin would always be in the back of her mind, waiting for the least little trauma to bring it to the forefront. Her childlike faith in God went missing that day and never came back.
* * *
Nobody ever blamed Gretchen for Emma's death, but she always blamed herself. She had thrown down the double dare and then been unable to save her cousin. The drowning took the wind out of Leonard's marriage. He and his wife never had another child. They celebrated Emma's birthday every year with a sadness that could find no consolation. Leonard threw himself into working the farm and investing his profits in stocks and commodity futures. His wife never got over her grief, although she learned to hide it by working around the farm and volunteering at church.
Gretchen was raised an only child. After her mother had several miscarriages, her parents gave up on having more children. When Gretchen was twenty-one, her mother died of cancer. Her father's drinking got worse after that. He died at age fifty-five.
After Leonard's daughter drowned, he paid special attention to Gretchen, his only niece. She was the bright spot in his life. He taught her how to drive a tractor and how to milk cows and bale hay. He bought her a horse and taught her how to ride it. He helped pay for her college expenses and attended her award ceremonies and graduations. He took her on business trips to Chicago and Kansas City. They became increasingly close over the years, especially after Gretchen's father died from alcoholism.
Gretchen had several boyfriends over the years but she never got close to marriage. She was too much of a loner. Her interest in farming faded as her teaching career took over. Try as he might, Leonard could not convince her to carry on the family farm.
By the time Leonard's wife died, Gretchen had become the daughter he lost fifty years earlier. It was only natural that he would trust her with his business affairs when his memory started playing tricks on him. He gave her his Power of Attorney without question. He had been consulting with Gretchen on dealings and investments for years.
Gretchen grew to consider Leonard's money as her own. After all, she was his only heir.
By the time Honey Waldrop came on the scene and started stealing the show, Gretchen had misappropriated at least $750,000 of Leonard's money. She paid off her house and bought a new car and took several expensive vacations. She was also investing in turning a good portion of Leonard's farm into a housing development. She had announced her early retirement from teaching the week before she realized her Uncle Leonard had a new romantic interest.
Gretchen was more than jealous of her Uncle Leonard's affections for Honey. She was accustomed to being the center of his world. Now, she had slipped to an unacceptable and much too distant second on his social list. And she was certain that Honey would discover the embezzlement and help Leonard revoke his power of attorney. He could also draft a will that would diminish or eliminate Gretchen's stake in the estate.
Gretchen had slipped into near panic mode by the time she convinced her uncle to move into the nursing home. Her plan was to pay the doctors there enough to declare him incompetent. That way he couldn't rearrange his legal affairs. Her fear of getting caught stealing flipped a switch in Gretchen's mind. The lights dimmed on her love for Uncle Leonard and left her alone in the darkness of envy and jealousy. Emma's horrible death mask made regular appearances in Gretchen's troubled dreams.
And then Leonard's routine blood tests showed high levels of arsenic. What a gift for Gretchen's plan. This was exactly the evidence she could use against Honey. Gretchen got the authorities on the poisoning case in a hurry.
Leonard had become increasingly distrustful since he had been talked into the nursing home's independent living facility. He didn't like living there and had pretty much decided to move out. Gretchen knew he was spending more and more time at Honey's house. Honey was clearly winning the battle for her uncle's affections.
Honey and Leonard had played right into her hand by breaking the law and fleeing the country. Gretchen could not believe her good fortune. But, even as she was wondering how Honey and Leonard could be so legally naive, she had a nagging feeling that, the longer they were on the run, t
he worse her position became. She knew her Uncle Leonard better than anyone and she knew he was mentally competent more often than not. Her only hope was to get Honey out of the picture. The best way to do that was to get her convicted of a crime. It didn't matter if it was kidnapping, attempted murder or violating the no-contact order. With Honey gone, she could somehow convince her uncle that her "investments" had been in his best interest.
Seven
ON THE THIRD DAY of Honey and Leonard's escape, Gretchen called the office of her investigator, Adam Wolfe. After getting his message machine most of the morning, she finally spoke to his assistant. "No, we haven't heard from Mr. Wolfe today, but I'll have him call you as soon as he checks in."
"You tell him it's almost 5 p.m. where he is, and he should have called me long before now. He promised to check in with me at least three times a day."
Two hours later, Wolfe called Gretchen. He and Simone had spent quite a night on the town and ended up sharing a room and each other until dawn's early light. Even so, he had news to report. "Honey used her Visa Card to rent a new, 1992, Ford Taurus, around noon today, Paris time."
"So where are they now?"
"I have no idea. They rented it for two weeks. The desk clerk said she overheard something about the French Riviera."
"What about the police?"
"You told me not to contact the police until I found them."
"Well, now that you've let them out of Paris, we're going to have to change our strategy, aren't we?"
"I suppose so."
"Now, listen carefully. I want you to go to Giverny. That's where Leonard will go. He always wanted to see Monet's gardens."
"Who's Monet?"
"Monet is one of the most famous Impressionist painters of all time. Don't tell me you haven't heard of him," Gretchen said, beginning to wonder if she'd hired the right man.
"Oh, that Monet," Wolfe bluffed. "Of course, I've heard of him. I'll get right over there and keep you informed."
Honey and Leonard Page 8