5
When it came to allaying suspicions about his living situation, Lester camouflaged it well. The outside of his apartment building was in disrepair. Mold grew on the outside, and cracks had started creeping up the walls in several places. His car, however, completely ruined any efforts he made to look like he lived in squalor.
The black Jaguar XJ zipped through the Parisian traffic, drawing more eyes than either of the women would have liked. And Lester’s aggressive driving style didn’t help.
“I love this car,” he said, shifting lanes and speeding to the next stop light. He screeched the tires to a halt and tapped his fingers impatiently on the black leather steering wheel.
“Subtle,” Adriana said.
His face lengthened, mouth agape. “What? I could have bought a car that was twice the price. But I decided to stay low key.”
“No, it’s definitely low key for you, Les.”
He didn’t miss her sarcasm. “Okay, fine. It’s a little extravagant. But I love this car.”
“Yeah, you said that,” Allyson jumped in. “Would you mind not driving it like we’re in the Grand Prix of Paris? I’d rather not draw the attention of any local authorities.”
“I think we would all prefer not to do that, right?” Adriana looked across at him from the passenger side.
He let out an irritated sigh. “Fine, ladies. I’ll drive slower. We’ll be there in a few minutes anyway.”
No matter how many times Adriana had visited Paris, so much of it always looked the same. There were different districts and boroughs that represented various cultures, but in the end, most of the buildings, the architecture, and even the monuments, all blended together.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like it; Paris was a fascinating place with a long and rich history. The architecture was beautiful, capturing eras in stone and mortar permanence that many younger countries lacked. It was the one thing she didn’t like about the United States. While America was a wonderful place to live and visit, European cities like Paris provided so much more in the way of aesthetic appeal.
The gray condominiums and apartment buildings blurred by as Lester’s lead foot failed to remember the promise he’d made just moments before. Cafes with red-and-white umbrellas sheltered patrons from the early morning sun that was gradually winning the battle with a light fog.
Allyson stayed quiet in the back for the rest of the journey. Adriana would have given much to know what she was thinking about. Probably a way to stab her in the back. But Adriana reminded herself that she’d already promised the other woman the three paintings she wanted. The only thing the Spaniard cared to get out of it was her father, safe and sound.
Lester spoke up several times, breaking the silence in the car, asking Adriana what she’d been up to lately, things she was planning on doing in the future, and two or three annoying chitchat questions that she ignored. He eventually got the hint that she was in no mood to catch up on old times, of which there were very few anyway.
The car arrived at an elegant, white stuccoed home with steep slate roofing.
“Welcome to Montparnasse,” Lester said.
He shut off the engine and exited, staring up at the two-story mansion. The two women stepped out into the fresh air and joined him, one on either side.
“Not too shabby for a shut-in, eh?”
“What is it you said your friend does for a living?” Allyson asked.
Lester responded without looking at her. “I didn’t. Now, if you two behave yourself, he might even offer you a croissant. He’s terribly fond of those things, and living so close to the Rue des Martyrs, he has access to some of the best in the world.”
Indeed, the 14th arrondissement's reputation for art and culinary wonders had spread across the globe, with galleries featuring both new and classical artwork and restaurants that even the snobbiest critics found themselves frequenting.
Lester walked confidently up the two broad steps to the thick wooden door and pounded the knocker with his right hand, completely missing the doorbell to his left. After nearly a minute, he was about to repeat the process when he heard movement inside. A moment later, the door handle squeaked, and the big door eased open.
The two women didn’t know what to expect upon visiting Lester’s friend, so when he appeared as the doorway gradually opened, they were a little taken aback.
“Ladies, this here is my friend Harry Drinkwater.”
Hovering in the doorframe, half in light, half in shadow, a tall, beastly man with a bulging belly, thick brown beard, and thinning but untamed brown hair, stared out at them with a furious gaze. He did not appear to be amused to have visitors and coming from his six-foot-four frame, the glare was even more imposing.
“Who are they, and why did you bring them here?” Harry snarled in an accent similar to Lester’s. He very nearly slammed the door in the smaller man’s face.
“Oh, come on now, Harry. When was the last time you had a few ladies like this by your house?”
Harry groaned. “I don’t want any visitors, Lester. And if you want to take these prostitutes somewhere, your home isn’t that far away.”
Adriana bit her lip to keep from laughing.
Allyson’s reaction was much more insulted. “Excuse me?”
“I’m terribly sorry, miss. Escorts.” He turned his eyes back to Lester. “You can take your escorts to your own home. I’m in no mood to have any shenanigans going on today.”
“You’re never in the mood for shenanigans,” Lester argued. “And it isn’t like that. These two women are looking for a Rembrandt, one that went missing during the war.”
Harry’s eyes flamed a little, interest sparking deep inside his pupils. “A Rembrandt, huh?”
“Yeah. I told them that no one in Paris knows more about that painter than you.”
The host’s head tilted back, but he kept his eyes on the two women, sizing up whether his friend was telling the truth about the escort thing or the art thing. “So you two aren’t prostitutes?”
Adriana’s head moved back and forth slowly. She couldn’t fight the smile much longer.
“Oh, well. I’m terribly sorry.” He flattened out the navy blue bathrobe he had on and the gray pajama pants underneath. “I also apologize for my appearance. I didn’t realize I was going to have guests today.” He shot an irritated glare at Lester who put his hands out as if wondering why he was getting the blame.
“You always look like this, Harry. Even when you do know you have guests coming over.”
“That isn’t true.” He attempted to look and sound dignified. “I just prefer to be comfortable when I know I’ll be alone.”
Lester was persistent. “You’re alone all the time. You hate going out in public.”
The giant man appeared suddenly uncomfortable. “You know why I don’t go out where there are lots of people. It isn’t safe, what with all the germs and viruses and bacteria. Did you know that payphones are one of the dirtiest objects on the planet?”
“No one uses those anymore, Harry. Now are you going to let us come in or not?”
Harry licked his bottom lip. Adriana could tell it was a difficult decision for him, whether it was rational or not. It was how he felt, and that made it legitimate.
She expressed her empathy when she spoke. “Mr. Drinkwater, if you would rather us not come in, that’s okay. I understand. But finding this painting is extremely important. It’s a matter of life and death. But if you don’t want to help us, that’s your decision. We’ll have to find Rembrandt’s angel on our own.”
Harry’s head twisted to the side. His right eye squinted with suspicion. “What do you know about Rembrandt’s angel?”