Queen of the Hide Out

by Alice Quinn

  The light was slowly changing in the basement. We were being treated to the last few rays of fading sunlight seeping through the vents at the top of the wall. A dying sun. Before we knew it, darkness had fallen and nighttime was upon us. The twins had fallen asleep in the stroller. I was lucky they had gone down so easily.

  I told Sabrina it was OK to play with my purse, and Lani and I spent some time blocking the vents with tissues and paper so we wouldn’t be spotted from the outside when we turned the lights on.

  There was only one thing I knew for certain: I had to get my ass out of here. I couldn’t just sit and rot in a basement for the rest of my life. I looked with regret at my lovely cell phone that I’d bought in another life with the cash I’d had from my last big adventure. I took out the SIM card and the battery and decided I’d have to hide them somewhere. Even empty, these things still cost a fortune. Maybe one day I’d be able to reunite the insides of my phone with the outsides. I’m ever the optimist!

  I wrapped the SIM card and the battery in separate sheets of aluminum foil from my purse and hid them among the kiddies’ bits and pieces under the stroller. I’d heard that foil somehow stops the cops from being able to trace your SIM. Everything would have to be dumped in separate locations, and all this would soon be nothing but a bad memory . . .

  Of course, I’d have to come up with a story if I ever did get arrested. It would be time for some thinking on my feet if that ever happened. But at the moment, the only plan I had was to run.

  46

  As Lani watched me messing around with the insides of my cell phone, she took out her own and started to cry. She looked through her contacts and copied out two or three numbers onto a piece of paper. She was so much brainier than me! Why hadn’t I thought of that? She also wrapped her card and battery in bits of foil. Copycat.

  Our biggest problem right then was we couldn’t hear a single sound coming from the house above. We had no idea what was happening up there. From time to time, we switched the lights off so we could look outside, and finally saw what we wanted to see: Borelli’s car had left.

  So we all headed back toward the trapdoor. Poor Lani was trembling. I’d managed to persuade her that she didn’t need to stay in the cellar because, sooner or later, they’d find her. It was true. Could there have been a worse place to hide? Then again, did I have a better place? It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out of this hellish house.

  I made sure the twinnies were safely belted up in their stroller and smiled at Sabrina (who sensed the danger up ahead and wasn’t taking her eyes off me). I forced out a minilaugh and slowly opened the hatch door.

  I looked left, then right. Nothing. Completely deserted. I signaled to Lani and she moved toward me. I pushed her ahead of me—I was worried she’d never leave the place if I gave her any other choice.

  “Quick! Hurry!”

  I could hear our hearts beating through our chests as we all managed to creep up into the pantry (children and stroller included) and out the door.

  We carefully made our way across the hall, and as Lani reached the front door she froze, her fingers stuck to the handle. She heard a voice. Hell, we’d all heard it (it was loud enough!).

  “Hey, you there! Amy? Mademoiselle Maldonne?”

  It was Cruella.

  I turned my head to look at her as I continued to push Lani against the door. Why wasn’t she opening it? I threw Mademoiselle Kessler a dark look and tried out some hand signals on her that I’d seen in the movies.

  First gesture: two fingers, closed tight on each other and up to the lips. This meant “Shut your face and don’t tell a soul you’ve seen us.” Second gesture: a thumb across the throat. This meant, “If you dare say anything to anyone, you’ll be dead meat.”

  She stared at me with eyes wide open, clearly disgusted by my signals (not as scared as I’d hoped!).

  I reacted by screaming out to her, “I know everything about you, Kessler! Keep your mouth shut, and you’ll be OK. I’ll be back any day now for my money! Have it ready for me!”

  Then we all hurled ourselves outside and started to run like mad toward the other end of the street.

  Tired out, our run turned into a fast walk. We didn’t know where we were going. All I knew was that when you’re on the run, you have to take the most complicated route possible—all the little alleyways and streets that nobody knows about.

  I had the same weird vibes I’d gotten on the way over. Every single person I saw looked like an enemy of some kind. Or worse, an informant.

  Lani asked if we wanted to go to her place. We talked it over for a while and decided it just wasn’t worth it. If I couldn’t return to my crib, she definitely couldn’t either.

  I wasn’t feeling particularly proud of the situation we were all in. I had three rug rats with me, a really sweet but illegal immigrant, the cops on my ass, and an FBI contract on my head, I was freezing my pants off, I was as broke as you can get, and I had no phone. Oh, and there was the cat.

  It was a low point to say the least.

  The only good thing was that Pastis hadn’t stayed behind. My little Einstein had managed to keep up with us. I thought about my Ambassador and how I’d left the place looking like the FBI had already turned it upside down: all the dirty pots on the table, nothing cleared away . . . Oh shit, I’d even left the radiators on.

  I carried on straight ahead with the kids and took several turns down streets prettily covered in Christmas lights. Lani followed us. She was on autopilot and looked like she didn’t have a clue where we were.

  At one point, we passed an empty shop. I’d seen this place before—it had been closed for years. There were newspapers and trash stuck between the storefront and the security grill. It was a mess.

  I took one of my little aluminum packages, and after making sure nobody was watching, I stuffed it between the bars of the grill among all the litter. Lani did the same thing.

  We crossed downtown and made our way to the outskirts of the city. Instead of taking the main highway, which was packed with traffic, I made sure we went the wacky way. We took a higgledy-piggledy network of streets, roads, and passageways.

  As for my second package with the cell battery, I stuffed it in a gap in a dry stone wall and put a big flat stone in front of it to hide it properly. I’d maybe need to remember where I’d put it at a later date. Was there a landmark of some kind? There was a lamppost opposite us. I’d remember that. Sabrina paid very close attention to my every move.

  “Ith that the microchip, Mommy? Inthtead of leaving breadcrumbth, you’re leaving bith of your phone around the plathe, and you will be able to find your way back, ith that right?”

  “That’s exactly right! Well done!”

  We took off at a fast pace again. I love that kid’s imagination. She gets it from me.

  47

  We found ourselves following a small river just outside the city gates, and I realized we were walking in the direction of Gaston’s castle.

  Now there was a great idea. Sabrina knew exactly where were going. She recognized the route.

  “Are we going to Uncle Gathtonth, Momma?” He wasn’t really our uncle but he felt like one to me and the kids.

  “Yes, my little imp! That’s exactly what we’re doing! It’s a great place to go!”

  I didn’t have the keys to his place, but I was sure I’d manage to find a way in. He wasn’t the type to bolt everything shut while he was away. And if Gaston knew what a mess I was in, he’d hand over the keys to me immediately, anyway. But his darned number was in my phone, so it was impossible to let him know about our current trouble. It didn’t matter, though. I’d think of something.

  In no time, we were in front of the real version of Beauty and the Beast’s castle. There was Gaston’s big gate looming in front of us. I couldn’t believe it. Gaston’s garden . . . I wouldn’t have recognized it. Last time we’d visited, it was full of flowers. But they’d all gone. We were right where my mother said we’d be in t
he message she’d sent about those missing flowers! Where have all the flowers gone? Again, she’d seen exactly what was going to happen! God, I love that woman.

  I explained to Lani that we’d be squatting at a friend’s and that it wouldn’t be a problem for him even though he wasn’t home. Actually, I wasn’t one hundred percent convinced of what I was saying, but this was war, so different rules applied.

  After a few minutes of thinking it over, she decided to go with it. She trusted me. I helped her get through to the other side of the gate. It took at least ten minutes of squeezing, sweating, and complaining to get her ass over the top of the gate.

  We heard a car pass by and spotted the headlights. Oh shit! I pretended I was just roaming by the side of the road in total innocence. As soon as the car disappeared into the distance, I returned to the gate.

  I picked up some bricks and bits of logs lying by the side of the road and built up a sort of ladder. I managed to pass the twins and the stroller over into Lani’s arms. It wasn’t a half-bad job.

  Pastis had already jumped over the wall and was busy playing in the undergrowth in Gaston’s immense garden. Sabrina wanted to climb over the gate on her own. She did so great! She’s an agile child.

  Finally, it was my turn. It wasn’t going to be a cinch by any stretch of the imagination, especially in my idiotic heels. Also, I didn’t want to leave any traces of the scaffolding thing I’d built, so I threw the contents around the side of the road.

  Then I tried to copy what Sabrina had done. It was a bit harder for me, but I did it. I finally managed to get over to the other side. Lani looked at me, puzzled, while Sabrina and the babies ran toward the house, with Pastis particularly delighted to be in this extraordinary jungle! My little Tarzan.

  Hey, Mom, when you get an idea, it’s always a really, really good one. Thank you so much! I had to wait a whole day this time before I understood your message. This day was full of surprises . . . and you were right . . . it all ended with a beautiful garden, even though the flowers have gone.

  I knew Gaston always kept his key under the fourth stone by the empty fountain in front of the main door. It wasn’t there. I hunted around, but it wasn’t to be found. I started foraging frantically, all the time thinking you’d have to be out of your mind to leave your keys on the premises for just about anybody to find, especially when you are away from home for so long. Well, I say “anybody,” but I couldn’t find them.

  I continued to look, knowing I’d never manage it. It was a total waste of time and energy.

  But compulsion got to me.

  I lifted all the big stones around the fountain, then the medium-sized ones. Then I just started grabbing up handfuls of pebbles. I looked in the fountain itself and under a few frozen flower pots. I did a quick tour of the windows along the first floor. They all had bars up on them.

  All except one. Eureka! The downstairs bathroom. There was a tiny little window. It was so small, there was no chance I could get through it. I don’t suppose it could even be called a window. You couldn’t see through it. That’s why they hadn’t bothered to put bars on this one. I looked at my little Sabrina and asked her whether she thought she could fit through it.

  She thought it over awhile. My Sabrina is superbrave. It’s just that she always likes to have a reason for doing something.

  “Why would I want to do that? Why don’t we jutht get in uthing the key?”

  “Uncle Gaston isn’t home right now, and I’m afraid he didn’t leave his key. So whoever goes through this window can walk to the front door and open it for us. The problem is that whoever fits through this window has to be a very small person because it’s so narrow. I think you’re the only one who can do it. Or maybe the twins, but they’re only babies, you see?”

  “I thee. I think I know how to do it, Mom. On the other thide of thith window ith the bathroom, right? Tho, I go in, then down the hallway and open the front door from inthide the houth.”

  “Yes! That’s exactly it! Great! You’re so bright, Sabrina!”

  “Yeth, but I’m afraid of the dark.”

  “What?”

  “Mommy, you know that I’m afraid of the dark . . . And inthide the houth, it will be really dark, and I won’t be able to go down the hallway in the dark.”

  It was a no-go. I couldn’t force my little one to go inside a house in the pitch-black. It was too much for her.

  I sat down on the ground and got the old brain cells working. All I hoped was that we wouldn’t have to spend the night outside, especially given the weather. I scanned the scene by the pale moonlight. It was getting pretty frightening out there. Then it came to me: Gaston’s garage. That’s where he kept his amazing Jag. I stood up and explained to the kiddos that we were going to have the best night’s sleep in the best car in town!

  Gaston’s garage was in a big hangar which had once been used as part of the family’s perfumery business. It stood abandoned nowadays. In the past, it had been used to store tools and machinery as well as all the delivery vehicles.

  We headed inside and there it was, Gaston’s stunning Jaguar. It was a MK2—pronounced “mark two”—in a gorgeous light-bronze shade with red leather seats and interior details.

  Gaston loved this car. He’d explained that when he was a kid, these were always the getaway cars used in bank robberies and that he’d always been a fan. “I remember back when a holdup wasn’t even a holdup unless the robbers used a MK2 to get away. It was even better if the cops also had a MK2. Now that’s what I call a chase! Back in the day, when we played cops and robbers, we always pretended we had Jags.”

  I lifted up the sheet he used to protect it and was happily surprised to find the doors unlocked. Actually, I knew Gaston well, so I wasn’t all that surprised—more happy.

  I lowered the seats in the front and managed to create a space which pretty much looked like a big mattress. In the trunk, we found some picnic blankets. They’d make excellent covers. We’d have a cozy night’s sleep. We all needed to eat something first, though. Luckily, Gaston kept supplies of all sorts in the hangar.

  Sunday: Smile

  48

  When I woke up at the crack of dawn, the collective snoring in the car was rhythmic and peaceful—the perfect accompaniment to the song in my head. It was from Disney’s Cinderella when the mice are working. The little animals don’t say “Cinderella,” though—they say “Cinderelli.” It’s so cute!

  Cinderella was always having to do housework and the laundry. My mother and I had watched that film nearly every Saturday evening when I was little. A favorite in our house.

  A ray of sunshine had slipped through the entrance to the hangar and was gently caressing my cheek. I wound the window down, and Pastis took his chance to jump out and go for his morning constitutional.

  The lyrics flitted through my mind, over and over. Despite all the crap that had happened over the last few days, I couldn’t help but smile. I don’t know what I was smiling for. I must have looked like the Cheshire Cat.

  I was about to look for the car keys in the glove box (so I could put the radio on and find out what was what in the world) when I noticed a huge key chain under the seat with a whole ton of keys. I recognized one of them immediately. The house key! I almost squealed with excitement. That was Gaston all over.

  So there was a good reason I was smiling! Wasn’t there a proverb about smiling? Smile and the world smiles with you. I felt like the whole world was smiling.

  I didn’t want to wake up the kiddos, but I was so happy I wanted to squeak! I got out of the car without making a peep, leaving a note where to find me, and skipped over to the house to open up. Once inside, I decided to make things a little homier. I found the thermostat, put the heating on full blast, and opened up the shutters. Cinderelli! My mother must have known I’d get into Gaston’s place and sort it out some.

  I made a couple of trips out to the hangar to collect a few bits and pieces, using the stroller as a trolley. The next thing I did was hi
de the notebook, statuette, and Max’s drug paraphernalia under the bed in the room I had picked out for myself. Wait a second—the needle! Where was it? I’d put it in my purse, hadn’t I? Had it disappeared? No! Surely not! Fuck almighty! No way. It must have fallen out of my purse at some point. Or it could be among all the other junk we were carrying around. Or I’d dropped it while we were out and about. The only thing I could hope was I hadn’t dropped it near my trailer. Hopefully, I’d lost it for good, and nobody would ever be able to find it ever again.

  On my third trip to the hangar, Sabrina woke up and gave me the hugest of smiles. I put a finger to my lips and signaled for her to follow me to the house.

  “Did you find the keyth, Mom?”

  “Yes! Come on now! Bathroom, breakfast, and then a shower for you.”

  What annoyed me most was I didn’t have a change of clothes for any of us. We hadn’t had time to bring anything. That’th life! as Sabrina would say!

  I had all the time in the world to prepare a leisurely breakfast with provisions I found in Gaston’s cupboards. He always had enough supplies to feed the whole of Côte d’Azur for a month. Jellies, cookies, and a whole pile of frozen goodies in a big chest freezer.

  The twins and Lani woke up and made their way to the kitchen. They looked half-asleep as they sat down at the table overlooking the gardens. What a fantastic way to start the day. The sun was shining brightly now, but it remained cool.

  I picked up the land line. It was working. The only problem was I couldn’t call my friends, because I thought all their lines would be tapped. Major paranoia. Anyway, I didn’t have my SIM card with me, so it wouldn’t have been possible, anyway. I mean, who actually knows people’s numbers by heart these days?