Work Text:
“Morticia, I've just received the most wonderful news,” Gomez proclaimed as he put the telephone receiver back into place, “A historian wants to come evaluate some of Great Great Aunt Twice Removed Mathilde’s heirlooms.”
“A historian?” Morticia looked away from the newspaper she had been perusing, “Whatever would they want with her things?”
He moved to stand beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Why, do what an historian does! Examine the artifacts of the past, and bridge the gap between modern man and those who came before!”
Morticia put her paper down on her lap and laid her hand on his, “Of course, darling. But don't they tend to be concerned with things that are more... archaic? Great Great Aunt Twice Removed Mathilde’s not quite that old.”
“She doesn't look a day over two hundred and twenty,” Gomez agreed with a reminiscing smile, “But she was a world traveler, and has quite the collection of gifts from her various beaus all across the globe. According to the fellow on the phone, she had some incredible treasures!”
Morticia folded her newspaper and put it aside on the end table, standing up, “That does sound exciting. When is he to arrive, dear?”
“After supper.”
“Mhmm...” she placed a delicate finger on her lip, before gasping into a smile, “I know! Let's go through and gather all her things before he arrives. We can make a game of it. It's always good for the children to learn more Addams’ family history.”
Gomez grabbed her hand to place an emphatic kiss on it, “As brilliant as ever, cara mia!”
Her expression quickly swapped into a frown, however, “It is a shame Mama isn't here for this joyous occasion.”
“When you win an all expenses paid vacation to a decrepit castle, you can't rightly say no!” Gomez popped a cigar into his mouth, “She didn't even remember entering that sweepstakes, but then again, it's at least twenty a day”
“She does love a good lottery,” Morticia agreed, “Ah well. We shall have to tell her all about it later. C’est la vie.”
The cigar flew to the floor as he was at her side, “Tish, that's French.”
She kept him in place with a finger against his nose, “Now now. Fun later, history now.”
Maurice Lobato straightened his tie and dusted off his jacket before he entered the Addams family home. This was a matter of the utmost importance, after all, one which may make his name go down in history like the subjects which he studies!
Gathering his confidence, he pulled the doorbell with vigor, nearly tumbling backwards as it had more give than he expected
“Infernal thing, they ought to get it fixed-” he looked up from his fist to the face of an impossibly tall man, with an impassive, intimidating face.
“I-I-I'm Maurice L-L-Lobato-”
“Follow me.”
With a voice that deep, you could do nothing but obey.
“There you are, my good man! Thank you for seeing him in, Lurch.”
It took a moment for Maurice to comport himself at the sight of both the myriad of historic artifacts strewn about the living room in front of him, as well as the other... eclectic decor.
“G-Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Addams.”
Gomez Addams emerged from the waist high pile of priceless goods wearing an immaculately preserved pirate hat, shaking his hand vigorously. Morticia Addams followed, exquisitely adorned by what appeared to be Minoan jewelry.
“We're delighted to have you here,” Morticia said, bowing her head to him, “I can appreciate someone who sees the value in history.”
Gomez moved to grab her waist, pulling her close, “The Addams have a history dating back until... well, before dating began! This is just Great Great Aunt Twice Removed Mathilde’s trinkets.”
Maurice peered into the pile, eyes a size or two larger than dinner plates, “This is all the collection of one woman!? She must have been quite the scholar.”
“Scholar?” Gomez exclaimed, “Maybe, but she was quite the heartbreaker! Each and every one is a gift from a man she charmed. One in every port, she always said.”
“Gifts? Gifts!?” he pointed a shaking hand at what appeared to be an original Da Vinci sketch, “These were all just... parting gifts from paramours!?”
“Is it so hard to believe?” Morticia caressed her husband's cheek with one perfectly manicured hand, “Look at how handsome her Great Great Nephew Once Removed is. In her prime she could knock a man off her feet with just a glance!”
“And a sword too, if needs must,” Gomez added, taking a cigar from his breast pocket and placing it in his mouth, “Speaking of swords, where are the children? I saw them playing with the Sword of Mercy not too long ago.”
“You must mean a reproduction.”
“Of course not! If Mathilde found out she'd been given a phoney, his head would be on display with everything else!”
It was lucky Lurch was behind him to catch his limp body as he lost his balance. While the tall man was righting him, Morticia called out,” Children! Wednesday! Pugsley! Where are you?”
There was rustling and clattering from another room, and two children (a boy wearing a knight's helmet and a girl holding the famous sword) entered the room.
“You called us, mother?” the girl asked, dark pigtails and stoic face at odds with her well mannered behavior.
“Yes, Wednesday dear. You have to greet our guest! You too, Pugsley.”
In unison, the pair turned to him- the boy flipped up the helmet so his face was visible- and politely recited, “Hello, sir.”
Overwhelmed and overstimulated, Maurice replied “Hello, children,” in a bewildered tone.
“We've been teaching them all about history, which I'm sure you're glad to hear,” Morticia boasted as any mother would, “Though they are mostly interested in the same beheadings and torturing as all children are.”
“Our guillotine is made from the same kind of wood they used in the French Revolution,” Pugsley dutifully added, “May we go now, father?”
“Of course, off with you! Such bright young minds,” Gomez said with a gleeful smile as he watched them scurry away, “Don't you look forward to the world the younger generation will create, Mr. Lobato?”
By now, Maurice had cleared his mind of anything other than what he came for, lest he risk losing it altogether, “Right. Absolutely. Now, if it pleases you, might I see what we spoke of over the phone?”
“Right, that,” Gomez grabbed it off the top of the pile and handed over the object with disinterest, “That old thing was buried at the back of the library! I can't imagine why that of all things is what you're interested in.”
He wasn't listening, as he finally had in his hands the thick tome that compiled all the works of the great poet Davy Bourbeau. Not that anyone knew his name, of course.
“What about that dusty book is so special?”
“It is a collection of the entire works of eighteenth century poet Davy Bourbeau. He was dismissed as a nobody at the time, even now, he's considered quite the hack. But this book was passed around from important figure to figure for decades, and no one is quite sure why.”
Morticia grabbed Gomez's arm, “A mystery! How marvelous.”
“There are theories, of course,” Maurice held it close to his side with one arm, and gesticulated with the other, “Some say the truth is self-evident; the upper classes simply lacked taste and truly enjoyed the abhorrent prose. The most common understanding is that he may have been a talentless bore, but he was an excellent socialite who easily befriended these important people. But what I believe, well...” he leaned in, and the couple mirrored him, “That between the lines of each joyless sonnet, you find instructions that will lead you to the world's greatest treasure.”
“Treasure!” Gomez clasped his hands together, “That sounds like it may lead to adventure!”
“O-Of course, this is all in the realm of theory. The original manuscript was said to have several pages that were missing from later editions, but no one has seen it in many years until now,” he held the book up, “Would you permit me to examine it?”
“By all means!” Gomez clapped his back with fervor, “You can even use my study if you'd like.”
“I'd be ever so grateful,” Maurice nodded, and allowed himself to be led into the next room. Right after this occurred, Morticia had a realization; in all this commotion, no one had yet to check that day's mail. She shuffled over to the closest noose and gave it a solid tug.
“You rang?”
“Yes Lurch, do be a dear and bring in the mail.”
He lifted his hand to reveal the stack of envelopes already retrieved. She smiled pleasantly, taking it gently “We really are blessed with the best servant one could ask for. Now let's see...taxes, it's about time... an invitation to donate to the local ice skating fundraiser... hm, what's this?”
Putting aside the other envelopes, she examined the red card in her hand. There was a strange, smiling symbol, followed by a line of text written in English, Japanese, and French:
“Lupin the Third will steal the compiled works of Davy Bourbeau from the Addams family, tonight? whatever does that mean?”
Lurch grunted his disapproval, shaking his head.
“You're right, we should call the authorities. It'd be a terrible shame if other people in the neighborhood were receiving strange notes like this one, and we failed in our civic duty to report it.”
When Gomez returned into the living room, Morticia had just put the receiver back into place.
“Who were you calling at this hour?”
“The police.”
“The police! Why?”
Lurch groaned, handing him the note.
“Lupin the Third... steal from us? The book that Mr. Lobato is deciphering?” he held it up to his nose and sniffed, “It smells faintly of fresh roses, how repugnant. This is all very strange business. Though it feels familiar, somehow...”
“The police told me they knew this ‘Lupin’ character is in the area, and they're dispatching someone who is an expert in this matter to us at once.”
“That's reassuring to hear, it'd be a shame if that book was stolen before we learned its secrets,” Gomez indicated to the direction of his study, “Lobato became a different man back there once he cracked that thing open. All smiles. He must have been looking for it for a very long time.”
Before the conversation could continue, the front door burst open, revealing Mama Addams pulling her copious luggage in an unsteady pile behind them.
“Why are you back so early?” Morticia tilted her head to the side, “Weren't you supposed to be gone the whole week?”
“I WAS,” Mama griped, throwing her sun hat to the ground and kicking it, “But when they told me they were going to be trying to exorcise those poor ghosts, I couldn't think of staying.”
Morticia grabbed Mama's hands in sympathy, “I'm so sorry such a horrid thing happened to you. And we don't have much better news here at home.”
“Some lout is trying to steal from us!” Gomez tossed his arms in the air, waving the card around, before showing it to her.
“Lemme see that,” she snatched it, and held it up to her good eye, “Well I'll be! Lupin the Third, eh? His grandfather and I go way back.”
From the other room, Maurice came out clamoring and stammering, “I h-have figured it-”
Mama Addams stomped her foot, “You take that mask off this instant young man!”
“I was hoping it'd give you at least a little trouble,” with a twist of his wrist, the man they knew as Maurice Lobato became another one entirely. His grin was toothy but playful, far from the nervey character he had played before, “You just needed to be out of the house for a few more hours.”
She placed her hands on her hips, “What would your grandfather say if he knew you were trying to steal from the Addams?”
He shrugged helplessly, “That he's proud?”
Mama nodded firmly, “That's right.”
“I'd appreciate it if you'd explain what was going on, Mama,” Morticia pleaded, looking between her and the stranger, “Our historian has become someone else entirely.”
“I can handle that,” he held his hand up, “Lupin the Third at your service, the third in a line of gentleman thieves beginning with the great Arsène Lupin, who this fetching lady had the pleasure of knowing.”
“He tried to steal from me at least once a month! Always stayed for tea every time too, a real pleasant fellow.”
Gomez snapped his fingers, “I knew the name was familiar. I remember Ma's old stories about that man now. He always sounded like a real classy chap.”
Lupin winked at him, winding his arm with a flourish, “I'd like to think I inherited quite a lot of that.”
Morticia crossed her arms gravely, as she always did, “If that was the case, why not just ask us for the book? We'd never say no to a friend of the family.”
“My lovely lady, it's a matter of professionalism,” he held a hand to his heart, closing his eyes solemnly, “A thief couldn't just ask for something, that'd be unethical!”
She hummed appreciatively, “I believe he does have a point.”
Gomez gestured at Lupin with his cigar, nodding, “And a gentleman thief is something entirely different than a common burglar. It's a respectable profession.”
“I knew you fine folks would see it my way.”
“You're welcome to the book,” Gomez offered, “It's the least we can do for thwarting your carefully laid plans.”
Morticia gasped, “Oh but Gomez, he said he couldn't just take it. Would you feel better if we walked into the other room and pretended we didn't know?”
He laughed, “No need. However, there is something you could do for me...”
“You're certain he's gone, ma'am?” the man who introduced himself as Interpol Inspector Zenigata looked about ready to blow smoke from his ears.
“Long gone, I'm afraid. We fell right for his devious trap,” Morticia emphasized the complementary nature of the word, “The book is no longer in our possession.”
He stood ramrod straight and saluted, “I'm sorry we failed to arrive on time to protect your belongings.”
Gomez shook his head, barely hiding a grin, “No need for apologies, dear fellow. We hardly knew the value of it anyhow.”
Fester pouted, slumping in his chair, “I can't believe we were robbed and I didn't even get to be here for it! I miss out on all the fun stuff.”
Zenigata eyed him curiously, but kept on, “We'll send out a search party immediately. Please contact the precinct if anything changes.”
“We'll be sure to do so,” Gomez saluted him.
Before the man could walk out, a loud clammer was heard, followed by thundering footsteps, and a very dirty Fester walked in from the back of the house. His bald head was caked in mud, and he had a trowel resting over his shoulder.
“What's everyone lookin’ at me for? Can't a guy dig a trench in his own backyard without getting the stink eye?” he blinked, “Oh hey, when did I get a twin? Someone shoulda told me!”
“LUPIN!!!!!!”
All that was left in the faux Fester's place was a pile of cloth and latex, with Inspector Zenigata not far behind. Morticia smiled with a sigh, “What a nice man.”
“Capital fellow,” Gomez concurred.
Fester propped the trowel up by the fireplace, crossing his arms and huffing, “Man, I miss out on all the fun!”•