“Clemmy, you need the income and Ma needs care,” Molson tried to be practical. “It’s good for both of you.”
“I need a raise if you think I’m going to keep putting up with her antics,” Clemmy stated firmly. “She flooded the bathroom, locked the door and told me she was swimming at the lake.”
“Is there damage?” Molson’s heart sank. He didn’t want to pay for a bathroom renovation.
“What do you think?” Clemmy groused. “I’ve got the fan on it and the window open. Hopefully most of it will dry up quick. I know you aren’t handy with any tools so don’t think you’re doing any work that needs to be done.”
Looking around the living room, Molson had to agree. His attempts to repair damage done by Margot were pathetic. He was no handyman. “We’ll work something out.”
“More money, that’s what we’ll work out,” Clemmy knew no one else on the block wanted to look after Wacko Margo. She had Molson over the proverbial barrel.
He’d have to work more hours at the shop, Molson decided tiredly. “Fine. Do you know where she is?”
“I dropped her off at the house a half hour ago. If you weren’t late, you’d know where she was,” Clemmy hung up on him. No doubt, she didn’t want to get involved in searching the neighborhood for Margot if she was missing.
If Fielding hadn’t kept him, he would have been here on time. The man had grilled him on various cases that they had seen during the day. Anywhere he could, he pounced on Molson, putting him down and implying he wasn’t fit to continue the program. By the end of the day, Molson had descended into giving Fielding the silent treatment. In return, Fielding had kept him past his shift, giving him a lecture on maturity in the workplace.
Molson didn’t point out the irony.
“Ma!” he yelled. There was no answer. Deciding a thorough search of the house was in order, Molson began looking. Sometimes, Margo would pretend to play hide and seek, thinking that she was playing with her kids in some distant year in the past. She was a small woman and could easily fold herself up which meant Molson had to check every cupboard, the oven, cabinets, closets, under furniture.
It was time consuming.
Finally, he found her, not hiding at all but looking through pictures as she sat on her bed.
“Hey Ma,” Molson sat beside her. “I thought I’d heat us up some soup. You want some?”
It would be easier to grind up her pills and put them in a bowl of soup than try to get her to swallow them on her own. If she didn’t know they were there, he could sneak them into her.
“Look at these photos,” Margot held out a handful. “I was a beautiful bride.”
“Yeah Ma, you were,” Molson automatically agreed. It was easier than arguing with her. If she wanted to think that she married David Ramesly, let her think it. It wasn’t harming anyone but herself. He flipped through the pictures. She had a yellow sundress on and looked rather pretty in her youth, with a wide smile and sparkling eyes.
“Those were my friends,” Margot pointed at each one. “Wilber, Oscar, Ginger, Audrey, Lorna, Barb. We all had such a great time that night. I think we must have spent at least a couple hundred on drinks!”
“Where were you?” Molson absently asked as he studied the pictures. Margot had so many pictures, he wasn’t sure he’d seen them all. There were stacks of boxes full of them in her closet.
“Atlantic City,” Margot told him. “I wanted to go to Vegas, but David had to leave for business the next morning.”
What he’d probably meant was that he’d had to leave for his real family the next morning, Molson thought. The group in the pictures were partying and having a good time. He didn’t see any evidence of a wedding. “Ma, why did you throw a shoe at Clemmy?”
“Who is Clemmy?” she asked, confusion swamping her face.
“Our neighbor lady,” he patiently explained. “She said you threw a shoe at her today.”
“I don’t see why I would,” Margot gave him an odd little look. “I barely know the woman. Borrow a cup of sugar and now she thinks I’m tossing shoes at her? She must be a little unbalanced. You should stay away from her.”
“I will,” Molson said easily. He knew that in a few hours, Margot wouldn’t recall this conversation anyways. He didn’t know why he’d made the effort to find out why the shoe was even thrown. It was an exercise in futility. Standing up, he gave her back the photos and kissed her on top of her head. “I’ll go make some soup.”
“That sounds good. Oh, I was a beautiful bride,” she murmured as she looked over the pictures again.
Molson went down to the kitchen, glad she was going to be in a reasonable frame of mind tonight. He would spend the night and get her to the center in the morning. Molson would have to rebalance his budget tomorrow while on one of his breaks. Lately the money coming in seemed to go out as fast. He had a little in savings and didn’t want to dip into it.
Putting the groceries away, Molson pulled the lockbox of pills out from behind a piece of drywall in the living room. He hoped Margot wouldn’t notice it here. She had a bad habit of playing hid the lockbox with him and he was tired of it. The prescriptions she had were expensive.
Grinding up what she was due to take, he put the powder in a chipped bowl then returned the box to his hiding spot. Heating soup was fairly easy, so he set the table at the same time, grabbing out a couple of buns and making easy cheese sandwiches. He gave a half bun for Margot’s plate. If she wanted more, she could have more, but he needed to be sure she downed those pills first.
His phone chirped. Molson pulled the cell out of his pocket. With a smile, he noted that it was good news. Sterling’s source had come through.
