"Not that long. Long enough to scare the heck out of me. Maybe a minute, it felt like an hour."
Leonard helped Honey to her feet after she took the medication and drank the entire bottle of water. "I thought I was supposed to be taking care of you," she said.
"We're taking care of each other."
"You know, sweetie, we've been on the run now for what? Maybe it's been nine days. Looking back, it's been the best time of my life. Do you remember all the places we've been?"
"I can't say as I do, pumpkin. I remember bits and pieces, but I couldn't recite an itinerary or anything like that."
"Well, I can and I will do it just to show you I don't need a doctor. We've been to Indianapolis, New York, Paris, Giverny, Dijon, Avignon, Aix en Provence, Marseilles and Cassis. How about that for somebody who doesn't need to go to a hospital?"
"Not bad for somebody who didn't know who I was a few minutes ago. You are amazing. You're lucky your memory comes back so quickly. Sometimes mine doesn't come back at all. I don't remember that 'X' place at all."
"Yes, you do. We didn't stay there overnight. Remember, we tried to get into the home of that artist. What was his name? You said he was your second favorite French artist, after Monet."
"Oh, Paul Cezanne. Yes, I do remember a little now. His old home and studio was closed. I remember the big green door you tried to push open but it wouldn't budge."
"See, your memory isn't as bad as you think."
"Well, it's certainly not as good as yours."
"Here's a memory challenge for you. Do you remember the night not so long ago when you came knocking on my door from the nursing home?"
"I do remember that."
"We decided to break the law and leave town together without much discussion at all."
"It was impulse fleeing," Leonard laughed. "If we'd have thought about it any longer, we probably wouldn't be here."
"And look what we would have missed," Honey said, pointing at the storybook land and seascape all around them.
"Yes, I feel sorry for all those people back in Indiana who wish they were here but don't have the guts to get up and do it. I'm proud of us for doing it. But two things still scare me."
"What?"
"Number one, getting caught by the police. There are bound to be plenty of people who've recognized us along the way. We're much bigger news than I ever thought we'd be. Wasn't it strange, seeing ourselves on the television news last night?"
"What was that newsman saying?" Honey wondered. "It was something about us being the Bonnie and Clyde of love. What do the French know about Bonnie and Clyde?"
"American gangster movies are big all over the world. I guess we're on the run like Bonnie and Clyde, but we haven't robbed any banks or done anything wrong."
"Except be together when they told us we couldn't," Honey said. "The French media seem to be on our side. They treat us like celebrities. Maybe we should do a live interview on television to argue our case."
"That's the best way I know to bring the police down on us."
"So, what do you always say about not getting caught?"
"We got to keep moving," Leonard said. "And right now, that means climbing back down the ladder. Are you up to it? How do you feel?"
"I'm good to go," Honey said. "The ladder's no problem. Going down should be easier than coming up. I think I can make it. I'll take it nice and easy. What's the second thing you're worried about?"
Leonard thought about her question as he began climbing down the ladder first. She looked down at him before beginning her shaky descent. "What's the second thing?"
"The second thing is our health. Things like what just happened to you make me think we're way too far away from medical care."
"Listen, mister," Honey said as she began climbing down slowly. "We're running away from the medical system as much as we're running away from the legal system. If either one of them catches up with us it's already too late."
"What we're really running away from is the nursing home," Leonard said as he helped Honey down the long, last step to the garden. "It's the nursing home that kills you."
* * *
Honey took a long nap after her ordeal on the roof. She awakened feeling better but still a little weak. She and Leonard took a slow walk around the colorful harbor of Cassis. Honey continued to resist Leonard's efforts to seek medical care.
"You can stop with all that talk about me needing a doctor. I've had this happen before. I've already taken the medicine prescribed by a doctor. I'll be fine."
"You can't just get up and go on with life after you stop breathing like that," Leonard said. "You need to stay a couple days in a hospital for tests and such."
"What happens to me is not a heart attack. It's what my doctor calls a 'heart event.' It's more like a mini-stroke than anything. It's certainly not a heart attack."
"I don't care what your doctor calls it," Leonard said. "You should have seen me pumping on your chest up on the roof."
"Yes, I wish I could have seen you in action. You must have worked me over pretty hard. I'm still sore and getting more sore by the minute."
They found a crowded café with tantalizing aromas and stopped in for lunch. Several diners seemed to be staring at them as they were escorted to a small table with a great view of the water. "Ah, this is living," Leonard said as he unfolded his cloth napkin.
"I wonder what the poor folks back in North Manchester are doing right now," Honey said.
At the waiter's suggestion, they tried the bouillabaisse, a fish and vegetable stew, boiled and simmered in a garlic and pepper broth of herbs and spices.
"Now, this is the best fish dish I've ever eaten, anywhere," Honey said once the meal arrived. "This is what I need, a big bowl of hot, spicy, seafood soup. Not a bunch of expensive doctors in a hospital where they run too many tests on you just so they can make more money. Don't talk to me about doctors. I know all about doctors. I was married to one most of my life."
Before they could finish the soup or their conversation about doctors, a man in a suit, who appeared to be the owner or the manager of the restaurant, approached the table, leaned down and said in an out-of-breath whisper, "Honey and Leonard. It is you, no?"
Honey and Leonard were too surprised to react. The owner continued without waiting for them to respond, "You must come with me. The police are on their way at this very moment. They will be here in less than five minutes."
Honey and Leonard exchanged a glance that acknowledged they had no choice but to trust the stranger. They got up with as little fuss as possible and followed him through the bar and into the kitchen. He barked a few orders to the busy staff and walked Honey and Leonard out the door and into the back of his restaurant van.
"Where are you staying?" he turned around from the driver's seat once they were on the move.
"Is it safe to go back to the room?" Honey asked.
"Yes," the man said. "Somebody saw you walking near the water and called the police. My waiter heard it on the police scanner and then saw you sitting at his table. The police don't know where you are staying but they are looking for the car you rented in Paris. They say it's a blue, 1992 Ford. Are you still driving that car?"
"No, we switched vehicles in Avignon," Leonard said.
Honey nudged him to not reveal more information.
"Good," he said. "I heard them describe the vehicle on the police radio," he said. "They are looking for the wrong car. But they do know that today you were walking along the harbor in Cassis."
"Won't you be in trouble for helping us?" Leonard asked.
"I'll drop you off at your hotel and then continue on to the market for supplies. I told my kitchen staff I was going out for spices."
It didn't take long for the helpful stranger and his van to arrive at their rented room.
"Why are you doing this for us?" Honey asked as the man dropped them off at the villa.
"I'm doing this for the excellent example you are setting for the world.
Many people are on your side, you know. God bless you both. I hope they never catch you. They should not be chasing you."
The man drove off without another word and before Honey and Leonard had a chance to properly thank him. They looked at each other. They were speechless. How was this happening to them?
Leonard finally asked, "Who was that masked man?"
"It was the Lone Ranger," Honey joked. "It's not everyday you get the Lone Ranger rescuing Bonnie and Clyde."
"Hi, ho, Silver," Leonard raised his voice. "Away!"
They hastily packed bags and donned their costumes from the Abbey in Avignon. By now, Leonard realized they needed all the disguise they could muster. Honey looked quite convincing in her habit. She was still pale and had washed off all her makeup. Leonard did not look quite so natural in his cassock and hat but he could pass for a priest. Driving away in the black sedan, they looked like a nun and a priest on their way to some church business.
As they drove along the highway overlooking the harbor, they could see the flashing lights of half a dozen police cars down below, along the waterfront.
Leonard took off his broad-brimmed hat and slapped it on the seat in triumph. "You can search all you want down there. You're not going to find us. We're on a mission from God."
"Leonard, don't be sacrilegious."
"I'm not being sacrilegious. I'm just stating the facts, ma'am. And, by the way, you're about the cutest little nun I ever did see."
"Leonard," Honey giggled, "maybe it's better we stay on the mission from God."
"God apparently does not want us to get caught," Leonard said. "He keeps sending angels to help us get away."
"I just wish we didn't have to leave such a beautiful place," Honey said. "We could have stayed there all winter and had a marvelous time."
It had not occurred to Honey and Leonard that their growing celebrity status could attract people with questionable motives. So far, everybody they met had been willing and able to help.
Their getaway from Cassis was not as clean as they thought. Someone who was not with the police was following them.
* * *
Meanwhile, Gretchen Atkins was beginning to feel the heat from Prosecutor Karen Lindvall. In fact, the prosecutor had invited her in for an "informal chat." Gretchen knew Lindvall socially and she was curious as to what Lindvall wanted to know from her. Did she want help in finding Uncle Leonard? Or was she curious about what was happening with his money?
She knew going to the prosecutor's office without an attorney was probably not a good idea. She also knew that having an attorney would make it look like she felt guilty about something. She finally decided that her approach would be to question the prosecutor on what was being done to find her uncle. She was not prepared for the prosecutor's opening salvo.
"What's this I hear about you selling the family farm to a housing subdivision?" Lindvall asked before any of the usual, introductory small talk.
The question hit Gretchen like a punch in the stomach. She didn't know what to say so she said nothing.
"What?" Lindvall said. "You don't want to answer that question? Do you think you've got something to hide?"
"Not at all," Gretchen tried to recover. "I just don't see what that has to do with finding my uncle."
"Are you, as Leonard Atkin's Power of Attorney, selling his farm?"
Gretchen realized she would have to lie. "Well, yes, if you must know, I am. And you should also know that it is with the full approval of Uncle Leonard."
"You do realize," Lindvall said, "we will eventually find him and he will be able to either confirm or deny your statements."
Gretchen knew the prosecutor did not believe her. It was time to throw down her trump card. "Uncle Leonard no longer remembers much of what he has said and done."
"Is that why you've filed for guardianship over him?"
"Yes, it is."
"Do you think Honey Waldrop has kidnapped your uncle?"
Gretchen sensed uncertainty from the prosecutor's change of direction. With renewed confidence, she said, "No, I don't think Honey had to kidnap him. I think he went along willingly. It might have even been his idea. The whole runaway thing is just proof that he is no longer competent."
"Have you been reading the paper or watching television?" Lindvall asked. "Apparently, nobody but you believes he is incompetent."
Now, Gretchen felt like she could gain the upper hand. "You, of all people, should know better than to believe what you read in the paper. Especially, the tripe Jack Crumbo's been writing in The Chicago Tribune. He's making a career out of this story. Did you see his article in Newsweek Magazine? I'm sure his book will be coming out soon."
Lindvall couldn't help but be amused by that comment. "Be that as it may," she said, "we'll have plenty of time to test Mr. Atkins for competency."
"You can test him all you want," Gretchen said. "He can fool you for a while. I'm here to tell you, I know him better than anyone and the man is no longer in control of his own mind. And I'll go you one further. He knows it. Why do you think he signed the Power of Attorney over to me in the first place?"
"You mean this Power of Attorney?" Lindvall waved her copy at Gretchen. "This was signed nearly two years ago, shortly after his wife's death. You know these things can be revoked at any time?"
"Only by someone who's mentally competent."
Gretchen could see the prosecutor was more than suspicious of how she was handling her uncle's money. She decided to say nothing more. "I'll be leaving now. If you have further questions, you can take them up with my attorney."
"Rest assured, I will have more questions," Lindvall said. "But, before you go, be advised there are laws that will hold you accountable for every cent of your uncle's money."
Gretchen couldn't help but respond, "I know you're trying to protect your friend, Honey Waldrop. May I remind you there is still a case against her for attempting to poison my uncle."
Lindvall attempted to conceal her anger at being accused of impropriety. "We both know why arsenic was found in Leonard's blood."
* * *
Gretchen left Lindvall's office in a hurry. She did not know why arsenic was in her Uncle Leonard's blood, but she did not want the prosecutor to see her shaking. The weight of the world was suddenly on her shoulders. She felt guilty, guilty, guilty.
Hearing the prosecutor say she would be held accountable for spending her uncle's money, made her realize how criminal her conduct had become.
How could I have known what a comeback he would make once Honey entered the picture? I thought he was on the way out. Now, what am I going to do?
Gretchen realized she was at a crossroads. She could find her uncle and beg his forgiveness. She knew he would forgive everything except selling the farm. She could undo that somehow. But Honey would certainly get in the way. And the law might not be so quick to forgive once an audit revealed how much money she had spent on herself without her uncle's knowledge or permission.
Her second option was to find Uncle Leonard and have Honey prosecuted. She knew the attempted murder charge would probably not stick. Honey would never try to hurt Leonard. But Honey was clearly guilty of violating the no-contact order.
Gretchen knew her uncle really was having memory problems that could only get worse. Time was on her side.
She returned home to discuss the matter at length with her new best friend of late, a bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey. "Jack Black" had been her father's constant companion in his last years.
By 6 p.m., Indiana time, Gretchen was more than half drunk when she got the call from her investigator, Adam Wolfe.
"We're on the scene in Cassis," Wolfe said.
"Who's 'we' and what 'scene' are you talking about?"
"By 'we' I mean me." Wolfe lied, realizing he hadn't told Gretchen about his interpreter and new girlfriend, Simone. "And by the scene, I mean French police are about to arrest Honey and Leonard in Cassis. They're such celebrities in France that people are able to reco
gnize them and report them to the police."
"Why are they celebrities?"
"The French people love them. At least that's what all the papers and television reporters say. They're calling Honey and Leonard the Bonnie and Clyde of love."
"Oh, my God," Gretchen groaned.
"I'm tuned into the police radio. I was in Marseilles when I heard they were spotted in Cassis. I'm already here. And, by the way, I'm running out of money. Can you send me another $5,000?"
"I'll do you one better than that," Gretchen slurred her speech enough to let Wolfe know she had been drinking. "I'll do you one better," Gretchen repeated. "I'll bring you the money. I'm coming to Cassis. It's time we put a stop to this nonsense."
Eleven
"LEONARD, SLOW DOWN, PLEASE," Honey said as the Peugeot's tires squealed through the hairpin turns on the steep road down through the orchards to St. Tropez.
"I'm not going that fast, pumpkin," Leonard said. "These turns are just too tight."
"You are going too fast. If the tires are making screeching noises, you're going too fast."
"I am not going too fast," Leonard said as the car hit a dangerous curve and skidded into the oncoming lane like it was headed over the edge of the mountain.
"Stop the car this instant," Honey yelled. "I am getting out before you kill us both."
Leonard regained control of the vehicle in plenty of time to avoid oncoming traffic.
"Stop the car now, Leonard Atkins. I mean it. I am getting out. I'll walk the rest of the way if I have to. My heart can't take this wild driving."
Leonard pulled off the road and got out of the car. He was still wearing the priest cassock. Honey got out of her door and stomped around the car to confront Leonard. She was wearing the nun's habit. To passing motorists, it looked like the Catholic church was coming apart at the seams. Honey was poking her finger in Leonard's chest and he was doing his best to stay out of harm's way.
Honey and Leonard were having the first major fight of their relationship. She pushed him with both hands in his chest so hard he actually had to take a step backwards to keep from falling over. As she came at him again, he sidestepped her with some nimble footwork. This only made her angrier. She came at him once more. This time he let her push him, but he braced himself and held his ground. He couldn't help but see the humor in this little nun trying to push him around with no success. He laughed out loud, and even Honey began to see how foolish she must have looked.
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