main | index CHAPTER 9 (section 1) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee Arms flew in a dizzying whirl that rivaled powerful hurricanes, but it was strangely quiet punctuated by random grunts and squeals as he rammed his fists into whatever opening he saw. He never saw the glint of steel as it slashed upward, only felt a faint stinging on his arm. But soon afterwards, he witnessed his attackers turning tail and fleeing. All he could think about was their audacity to attack during the day. But as he thought, the silence was only indication that despite the presence of the sun, there was no human presence. He stumbled and slumped against a nearby wall, sliding to the ground. Only now did he feel his hurts, the burning that penetrated his arm, the tenderness of his jaw, the dull aching of his abdomen where one of them had managed to kick him in the stomach. He heard the pounding of feet and then her cool hand resting briefly on his forehead. “Oh God.” Her whispered voice was low and hoarse. “I was too far away to have seen who they were, to help you.” He looked up to meet her lucid eyes. “You couldn’t have helped. Too many of them.” “Only two.” A very faint smile tinted her lips. “But you scared them off. Are you all right?” “I...” he groaned and saw her turn white when she saw his arm. “Don’t you dare move. Take off your shirt.” Her fingers went to the buttons, nearly ripping them off as she struggled to take it off his arms. His white undershirt was already sporadically stained red. “Eager aren’t we? Under other circumstances I would let you unzip my pants too.” “This is no time to make jokes.” But he saw the faint blush that crept up her cheeks as she tore the shirt into strips to bind his arm, to staunch the flow of blood. “Of course it’s time to make jokes. Takes the mind off of...ow. Watch how tightly you bind that thing.” “It’s never too tight. We should get you to the nearest emergency room as soon as possible.” “No. It’s going to be impossible to report those muggers anyway. I know someone nearby who’s a medic. You drive. I’ll give the directions.” “How autocratic of you.” But she helped him up anyway, staggering a little from his height and weight. “Hey, I’m letting you drive.” “That’s not the same thing.” She held his arm around her shoulder even though he wasn’t limping. He grinned a little but did not try to pull away. “All right, I’ll admit that.” They walked across campus, only encounter three or four passing students who did not give them a second glance. Reluctantly, he released her shoulders to dig in his pocket for his keys. “So what did you find out?” “Sykes wasn’t that useful. I’ve only found out that The Rose is a sculpture.” She opened the door of his truck and watched him get in before getting in the driver’s seat herself. “Didn’t even say what it looked like.” She adjusted the chair so her feet could touch the pedals. They backed out of the university parking lot without further incident and sped down the main road, Adrian making occassional remarks to turn right or left. They soon left the main center of Ridgefield and entered the eastern suburbs. “So what did you find out from the professor?” asked Simone finally. She glanced beside her and watched her partner’s cheek turn an embarrassed ruddy color. “She was more interested in flirting than answering my questions,” he replied reluctantly. “She said that she didn’t know anything, but I have this feeling that she was hiding something.” “This is your intuition that’s talking to you?” “And those cuff links I saw on her jacket. They looked a lot like the ones that guy had.” “What guy?” “The guy who crashed Caroline’s birthday party.” “Maybe they just have the same tailor.” “Maybe.” Simone turned into a driveway that lead into a quaint house built with warm sienna brick and dark forest green shutters. It was a one story house that seemed to sprawl lazily across its land, quite sure of its possessiveness. A wooden fence circled the front yard but disappeared as it attempted to penetrate the wooded back yard. A happy yellow windmill stuck out in the middle of the front yard just outside of a circular garden ringed by flat gray stones. Gardenias and marigolds bloomed vibrantly among tulips, irises, and daisies. It was a brief oasis of chaotic color. She hurried over to the other side to open the door for Adrian, but he had beaten her to it. “I’m not that much of an invalid,” he said smirking. “Just tell that to the doctors when we find out you need stitching.” At that moment, a golden retriever bounded out from nowhere, barking merrily and running straight at Adrian. It was a miracle that he was not trampled over. The dog ended up pawing on his legs, trying to get attention. “No.” Simone commanded. The retriever sat down, his tongue hanging out and eyed her with wide eyes. She barked once. “Good dog.” She patted his head and rang the doorbell. “How did you do that?” Adrian asked amazed. “Lollie never responds to anyone except her owner.” “You have to be firm, I guess. Learned that with your silly cat who tried to sleep on my pillow.” “Huh.” The door opened wide, revealing a trim older woman with snow white hair. She was fairly tall, only a few inches shorter than Adrian. She wore a pastel blue dress with small white flowers. Around her waist was tied a white apron with faint splotches that looked like they were recently made. She smiled at Simone first since she was mostly in the doorway. Crinkles came easily around her clear eyes which were the same shade of gray as Adrian’s. “Hello,” she said with a faint accent. “Are you selling something?” “Actually...” The woman looked up, finally spotting Adrian. Her mouth fell open in shock. “Adrian! What happened to you?” “Hello Grandmere.” She said some choice words in French about her grandson’s intelligence. “Come on in.” She waved an arm toward the interior. “Let’s come to the living room and see how it is.” She hurried off, leaving the two of them on the doorstep. Adrian stepped inside first with Simone trailing, confused. “She’s your grandmother?” “Yep.” “Father’s side?” “Nope. Mother’s side, Landeau.” She whirled back into the living room carrying bandages, gauze, and various bottles that probably contained antiseptic. “You should have gotten to the hospital. You are a pathetic boy to come running to your grandmere.” “Actually Simone tried to convince me to go to the emergency room but I made her come here.” “Oh?” She turned briefly to survey his partner. “Simone is a very pretty traditional French name. Your mother must have been wise.” “Actually she thought it would look good on my resume when I became a world famous artisan.” “Humph. Let’s see what we’ve got here. This make-shift bandage is tied excellently.” “Thanks,” she mumbled. “Is the wound bad?” His grandmother clucked as she examined the flesh wound. Adrian craned his neck to see what was happening. “Looks like only a surface wound. No stitches.” She poured some antiseptic onto a swab. “This is going to hurt a little.” Adrian gritted his teeth when the cotton touched his flesh. “A little?” “Now stop complaining,” she replied. “You’ve got a pretty girlfriend to look over you.” “He’s my business partner,” Simone clarified. “Same difference.” She began tying the gauze and bandage. “There. Just don’t exert yourself and you’ll be good as new in a few days.” She turned to Simone to pat her shoulder. “Don’t worry, he’s a strong boy. And while you’re here, you might as well try the cake I baked today.” “Er...thanks, Mrs. Landeau,” Simone replied, feeling awkward. “But...” “No buts. Business partner you say? In Adrian’s investigation business.” “Yes.” She nodded. “Makes sense. You probably spend entirely too much time trying to get my grandson out of trouble.”