Miss You Mad: a psychological romance novel (17 page)

I didn't feel right about it, but what else could I do? I walked Belle out of my office and into the waiting area. Searching for a teller to look after Mrs. Hastings without making her wait, I noticed that every teller was clustered around Gina. Gina who stood at the counter trying to calm down a very dirty, very skinny gentleman.

The walking cadaver began to yell.

William's own shriek pierced his ears, making his hands fly to cup them in an effort to shield his eardrums from the awful sound. It even seemed to frighten the tellers. But it didn't matter. He hadn't come all this way to lose now.

He was aware that the room had taken to spinning. His feet had started moving. Moving, moving. They stepped in and out and in again. He couldn't stop. He covered his head with his arms.

Then he saw her. Oh God. How relieved he was. She came out of a room with a tall, short-haired man in a business suit.

He sprinted across the short space and grabbed her hands. Flesh, sweet mother of God, she was flesh.

"Mother," he croaked out, floundering for a rational reason why she might be here in the flesh. "The damn noises. They confused me. But here you are."

Mother gave him a strange look. She swallowed and nearly choked.

Glancing frantically at the gentleman beside her, she pulled away.

"What's wrong?" He stepped closer. "It's not true, is it? The things I imagined. They were all a lie."

A laugh of relief bubbled up through his throat. "I didn't kill you."

The man, a young man just about William's own age with short black hair and large green eyes, stepped between them.

"Is something wrong," black-haired man asked.

William tried to peer around the man's large shoulders. He noticed Mother had moved closer to the teller counter and away from him. She stared with large, frightened eyes. What was wrong? He knew his features had changed somewhat over the last year since she'd died. But surely she'd know him.

"It's me, Mother. William." William pushed aside black-haired man, all the while braving the horrible sounds assaulting his ears.

"What are you talking about?" She hugged the counter. "I don't have a son."

"No," William yelled as much to shut out the voice as to persuade his mother. "You do remember me. You do. Think. You saved me and put me on that medication. It made everything stop. Remember? I'm better now. Better because of you."

Black-haired man's feet started tapping. They tapped louder and louder and before William knew it, those feet had begun to crowd him.

"I think your business is finished," Black Haired man said. He turned to the red head behind the counter. "Gina, take Belle out back."

That couldn't happen. William couldn't let it happen.

"No." William pushed past black-haired man and headed for the counter. "Mother, wait. I need you."

The small woman took a deep breath. She seemed to grow with it; her face morphed like software graphics from one emotion to the next. It settled on annoyance. "I don't have a son. Now, be a good little Norman and go bother Alfred."

She hates you for what you did.

"It's not her fault."

"Whose fault?" black-hair said, gripping Mother by the elbow and steering her toward the office.

"What are you talking about?" Mother demanded over her shoulder. She pulled away from black-hair and stomped forward. She placed her hand on his arm.

"Are you ill, young man?"

William stared at her, watching the wrinkled skin smooth out and then pucker up again.

"Please," he said. "Help me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, Mother was being hustled toward the back room again by the red haired teller, through a wicket gate and about to disappear.

William bolted toward the gate.

He felt a heavy hand grip his shoulder. No. How dare they try to stop him. He wheeled around. Black-haired man's face was as red as a pickled ham.

"Get away from me," he told him.

Black-haired man ignored him. He grabbed William's arm and pulled him toward the front door. "I think you should leave before I call the cops."

William braced his feet against the tiles. "You can't make me leave."

The man held William by the chest. Both his arms were pinned beneath the massive force, both legs lost contact with the floor as black-haired man gave a mighty shove. "Call 911," he yelled backwards across his shoulder. "The cops will have to take this guy."

William mustered everything he could, he took as deep a breath as his lungs would hold. Then he yelled and squirmed out of the man's clutches.

He charged the door and ran and ran until he couldn't run anymore.

His chest burned and his head swam. He needed sanctuary.

As soon as the weirdo escaped, I ran back to the employee lounge. "What the hell was that all about, Gina?"

Gina sat on the couch with Mrs. Hastings trembling beside her. She had managed to find a tissue in all the crap that the tellers left hanging around.

"How the hell should I know? He said he wanted to deposit. Then he freaked out.

I thought Mrs. Hastings was going to implode right there in front of us.

"Are you okay?" I asked her.

She nodded. "Why did he think I was his mother?

I shrugged. "Who knows? But I think we should give statements to the Mounties. Anyone who flips like that should at least be questioned." I sat next to her. Her trembling arm reached for mine. She laid small fingers on my sleeve.

I smiled at her. "You're one tough bird," I said.

She grinned. It relieved me. "So people tell me."

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

She shook her head. "I'd sure like a bolt of whiskey."

"I've got some rum in my trunk. Will that do?"

Mrs. Hastings bobbed her head and Gina left with a side-long look at me.

I sighed, letting go my shoulders like they had been pumped up with air.

"Fuck," Mrs. Hastings said.

That made me smile. She smiled with me.

Gina came back carrying the half-full bottle of Captain Morgan amber that I kept in my trunk for emergencies. As she kicked open the door with her high-heeled foot, I could see past her into the customer area. I noticed two uniformed policemen questioning one of the tellers. Gina obviously didn't know they were there; and as I watched, one looked toward her and to where we stood. Gina lifted the bottle in what I suppose was her rendition of a victory display. I cringed.

"Hurry up, get in here," I growled.

She scowled at me. "You're welcome," she said and crossed to take the cup from my hand. She made to pour some liquor into it.

I grabbed the bottle. "Stop. The police are coming."

She looked like someone had caught her pouring hot wax onto someone's vagina.

The way she grabbed the bottle back and scrambled for the bathroom wrestled a snort from me. Belle's cackle came straight on the heels of my horrendous nasal pitched honking. Soon, both of us laughed harder at the other, then we laughed harder at that, and then I don't even think the trumpet of judgement could have stopped us.

The two policemen didn't think any of it was funny. Both faces had a, I sure wish these underwear would loosen and let my yayas relax, kind of look. Belle thought that was extremely funny when I whispered it to her. Twisted drawers policemen didn't. They stood staring at us and waiting for the lull.

Thankfully, Gina knew all about perfect timing.

"Thank God," she gushed as she pulled the bathroom door tightly behind her. "You wouldn't believe the weirdo we just had in here."

With what seemed relief the two officers turned and began questioning her. Gina pointed to me. "Daniel and Mrs. Hastings threw him further into his fit."

I nodded. "We can all give statements."

"Great. We'll start right away." The officer took out a pad from his pocket.

"Start with Mrs. Hastings." I winked at Belle. "She might want to get home and sail with the captain this afternoon."

Her smile made me feel quite magnanimous. "You can use my office," I told the officer.

I offered Belle my arm. The two of us sauntered from the back room and through the teller area to my office. Gina and the two policemen followed. I pulled out my great important businessman chair for Belle.

"Thank you," she said.

I fluttered my fingers in the air. " It's nothing."

The officers had to settle for the uncomfortable chairs most bank managers have for clients. I headed for Gina's office and noticed Hannah standing in the customer area. She wore a moss-coloured cotton jacket that suited her light hair. A tall fellow who twirled a pair of sunglasses around and around stood next to her. Howard, I supposed. I felt my lips twisting into a grimace but I shook his hand anyway, noting the coldness of his touch.

"Pembroke?" I said, turning to Hannah and she nodded.

"Good," I said. "I need to get the Hell out of here." I gave old Howard the once over and pointed to my car. I yelled over my shoulder at one of the tellers.

"Tell the cops I'll stop by later to leave my statement."

Hannah smiled at me but the Howard fellow just scowled. I wondered why she liked him so much. He had weird lips. If I were a woman I'd never let them touch me. Hell, I was sure I wouldn't trust them to speak anything but lies. But I supposed I could stand his presence as long as he didn't have designs on Hannah. I made a thoughtful pit stop at the Tim Hortons to get Hannah a lovely Earl Grey tea complete with three heaping sugar, and was more than a bit annoyed that it took them so long to fill a simple order. And then, as though that wasn't bad enough, Hannah took one sip and said she was going to avoid sugar. Something about a cleanse. I brooded after that, letting it grow to a staggering proportion of silence as I watched them the whole way to Pembroke. Howard sat next to her in the back seat, occasionally touching her arm, or laughing at her jokes. He acted like an adoring lover. I didn't like it one bit. There I sat stuck behind the wheel without much leeway to interject in the conversation, jammed against the passenger seat next all the computer equipment they'd purchased during the morning.

"Richard told me I could pick up the keys from a neighbour," I piped, deliberately interrupting Howard's adoring conversation with Hannah. "He'd left them the last time he was here. He said he'd call her right away."

Howard acted nonplussed. Damn him.

"How long ago?" he said.

I didn't quite feel like making it easy for him. "How long ago, what?"

Hannah interrupted. "Oh, for pity's sake, Daniel. He wants to know how long ago, right away, is?"

"About three hours. How long will it take before you're back online?"

Howard answered instead. "Oh, she's still online. I switched video before I left."

"Then when will she begin painting live again?"

Howard looked at Hannah. He raised his brow.

Hannah sighed. "Yes. I'm still going to. I'll wait until you make it back to Toronto and cut off the video. It doesn't exactly have to be perfect. After all, I only paint for certain hours of the day. There are times when my site just has the chat screen. But I do still need to get the Phone Company to set me up with service."

I turned deftly onto Helen Lucy Road and navigated the various ruts that peppered the dirt surface. Howard seemed unimpressed with my skill. Fuck him.

"Which house is the key at?" he said, ignoring they way I neatly evaded a stray cat that streaked in front of us.

"The one at the top of the hill," I said, pulling up tight to the grassline and barrelling onto the driveway. Howard fell against the door. I grinned and jerked the car to a stop.

In all honesty, I wasn't prepared for who answered. Complete with blue terry cloth robe and old woman slip-on slippers, Belle Hastings looked as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

"I didn't expect it to be you." She smiled.

I extended my hand. "You're Richard's neighbour?"

She nodded. Taking my hand, she whispered, "I've taken your advice and have gone for a sail with the captain." Then she giggled. I was willing to bet they were sailing together on the Titanic. Hannah and Howard exchanged quizzical looks.

"Come in," Mrs. Hastings pulled on their sleeves. "Come in. It's so good to have that little house rented out. They were such nice ladies. They invited me over for tea now and then. I just can't imagine how they managed."

Hannah came to life. "Those two must have been something."

Belle nodded. "Oh, something is an understatement. Most people here thought they were odd. But I rather enjoyed them. It's nice to have oddity now and then." She winked at me. "Unless it has to do with your life savings."

I grinned.

Belle peered at Hannah as though she was having a hard time seeing.

"I'll come over tomorrow to help clean up if you like. Richard would like Helen's things stored here. And I don't mind." She stretched her arm out to sweep across the wide expanse of oak covered hall. "I have tons of space. All wasted. Wasted space."