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dressed and began looking more fit and firm with each piece of clothing she added.
    Leonard was sleeping peacefully in bed. He looked as much the worse for wear as she did, but somehow, it didn't seem so shockingly bad on him. She awakened him with a kiss on the forehead, reminded him where he was and helped him get dressed. He didn't need much help. Once he remembered he was on his way to Paris, he felt like a kid again.
    Honey convinced Leonard she should drive since he was still a bit groggy from the nursing home drugs. She hated driving but she knew they had to get going and be in a hurry about it.
    She could barely see over the rear seat of her Cadillac as she carefully backed out of the garage. Leonard got out to shut the overhead door. Honey had misplaced the automatic door opener months earlier.
    "Goodbye cruel world," Leonard said as they drove out of town.
    "You do realize, sweetie, that we are now fugitives from justice?" Honey asked. "My lawyer's job is going to get a lot harder after tonight."
    "You know how lawyers spell justice?" Leonard asked.
    "M.O.N.E.Y.?"
    "No. J.U.S.T. U.S."
    Honey laughed, "Ooh, that's good. I haven't heard that one. I thought I'd heard all the lawyer jokes. But, you know, I like my lawyer. He says once they figure out I didn't poison you, there will be no reason for the no-contact order. So I say, let them work it out while we're in France."
    "You do realize, pumpkin, we'll be homesick in no time."
    "That's fine. We'll deal with it at that time. Right now, I'm sick of home."
    She did not realize what a fire their departure would light in the plus-size bellies of Leonard's niece, Gretchen Atkins, and Maria Gomez from Adult Protective.
    Honey did understand they had precious little time to make a clean getaway out of the country. She also had a sinking feeling that neither she nor Leonard would have the slightest idea what to do once they reached the airport.
    Leonard settled into a thoughtful silence as Honey eased onto Interstate 69 south and managed to set her cruise control at what she thought was a cautious 65 mph. Unfortunately, she took her foot off the gas as she was fumbling with the cruise control and ended up setting her speed at an illegal 45 mph. She couldn't see the speedometer because the steering wheel was blocking her view. She could barely see over the wheel. They rolled on into the night for an hour at reduced speed. Leonard remained preoccupied as the occasional truck roared by with a long pull on its air horn.
    "Why are these trucks going so fast?" Honey asked as she continued to fail to realize her own speed. "And why are they honking at us?"
    When Leonard failed to respond, Honey became concerned and grabbed him by the shoulder to ask, "Sweetie, what's the matter? You haven't said a word in thirty miles. What's the matter? You don't want to go to France? I thought you always wanted to go there?"
    "It's not that," he finally murmured as he turned to look out the passenger window.
    "I know what you're worried about."
    "I'm not worried."
    "Yes, you are. I can tell by the way you won't look at me. You're worried because we don't have any luggage. That's it. You think I forgot to pack your bag. You don't need to worry. I kept it light but I got all your medicines—the heart pills, the blood pressure and your inhaler. When they searched the house, the police didn't take medications they knew we needed on a daily basis. Between the two of us, we've got enough pills to open a pharmacy. All we really need is our medication, and I've got it all."
    It took a few moments before Leonard explained, "No, I'm not worried about anything. I'm too old to worry. Worrying never did anything but waste my time."
    "So, what's the matter?"
    "I'm ashamed," Leonard said.
    "Ashamed? Ashamed of what?"
    Honey waited for two whole minutes before Leonard finally confessed, "I don't have a passport."
    "A passport?" Honey asked. "Is that what's got you in this deep, dark mood? A passport? You are a