“Brit. Got famous for great deeds, had raped and sexually assaulted kids all over Great Britain. Wasn’t really discovered until after he died.”
“What a monster. I’d love to dig him up and castrate him. How do I look?”
I turned to Magnus, who looked me up and down, then nodded.
“A big floppy hat,” he suggested. “A ball cap for me.”
Where a redhead and a man with black hair had entered the novelty shop, two blondes wearing eyeglasses and hats stepped from it. As I hardly recognized myself, I doubted Arnaud or any of his goons could. We got into the Jeep and drove toward Arnaud’s ritzy area of town.
“There’s an electronics store just down that way,” I said, gesturing.
“Gotcha.”
Feeling confident in my disguise, I shopped for cameras while Magnus sought out laptop computers. I selected two Nikon digital cameras that were compact enough to fit intopockets, yet high quality enough to take good pictures. We met at the check-out counter where I produced my bank card.
“I can buy these,” Magnus protested.
“I’ve got it. You bought breakfast.”
“Ay-yi-yi.”
“Never argue with a woman, dear,” I said, handing my card to the clerk. “You’ll never win.”
Thirty or so minutes later, we cruised slowly past Arnaud’s house. As before, it stood gaudy, immense, and apparently deserted.
“Think he’s home?” I asked as we rolled by.
“Can’t tell. Let’s park here for a few minutes.”
Magnus turned the Jeep around, then eased it to the curb two houses up from Arnaud’s. “We won’t be here long enough to offend the neighbors.”
“We don’t need the cops checking us out.”
In silence, we watched the house, holding hands, content with one another’s company. I tasted the nasty lipstick anytime I licked my lips, then licked them again to wash the shit off.
“Quit that,” Magnus murmured.
“I hate lipstick.”
“Suck it up, buttercup.”
After ten minutes, Magnus put the Jeep into drive, then rolled down the street. Once again, we passed Arnaud’s house, parked two houses down, and watched again. We’d sat there for the ten-minute interval, with Magnus reaching for the gear lever, when a Mercedes drove down the long driveway.
“He’s leaving,” Magnus gasped. “Get down.”
I snatched the hat from my head, and ducked below the dash even as Magnus’s face was close enough to kiss me had he wanted to. I heard the Mercedes drive past without slowing, its tires on the asphalt creating a purring sound.
“I don’t know how much time we have,” Magnus said, popping up. “Let’s do this.”
He drove up Arnaud’s driveway but didn’t park in front of the huge four car garage. Instead, he drove around to the back and parked there. “The Jeep won’t be seen right away,” he explained. “Not unless someone comes back here, and no one does. Except the gardener.”
“Where’s the gardener?” I asked, stepping out.
“On vacation this time of year. Come on.”
He took me to the house’s rear door, then fished a key from his pocket. After easing the door open, he beckoned me in while making a shushing gesture with his fingers over his lips. Taking my hand, he led me down a short hallway, then pointed toward what appeared to be the kitchen. I nodded in reply, understanding that’s where the cook lived and served.
Knowing the house well, Magnus took me up the carpeted stairs, as silent as a ghost, to the second floor. I didn’t pause to admire the artwork Arnaud had collected, nor the rich finery in the guestrooms we passed. I caught a quick glimpse of Arnaud’s master bedroom, and the sleeping female form within the mussed bed.
