Part 3 (2/2)
I couldn't possibly have them over, thought Noel, I'll make a complete stooge of myself ... ”No, I don't mind at all if she, Samira, tags along. But on second thought, it might be better if we ... if we met at my place a bit later. In a couple hours or so. I've got some things to ... take care of.”
Norval eyed his friend suspiciously. ”When I ring your bell you'd better answer it. And don't even think about disturbing any of the sordid evidence.”
”See you in a couple hours?”
”Taxi!” was the reply.
Chapter 5.
”SB”
When Noel arrived home he turned off his pager connected to the alarm, punched in letters on the digital lock, unfastened dead bolts. From the inside, the door had been disguised not to look like a door, blending seamlessly with the wall. He had forty-five seconds to deactivate the alarm, which was halfway down the hall.
”Mother! Everything all right?” He pushed b.u.t.tons on the alarm, and was about to run upstairs to her bedroom when he heard a noise from the family room.
”Is that you, dear?” his mother replied with a mild Scots burr. ”Dinner's almost ready!”
”Be right there, Mom.” He expelled a sigh of relief and made his way to the end of the hall, under the new fire alarm, past the new fire extinguisher case, towards the new bathroom. He was already sweating: every time he entered the house he felt like he was on a long baker's shovel, slipping into the oven. He looked at the thermostat, turned it down to 80. A red nightlight below it was still s.h.i.+ning; he stooped to flick it off. Shouldn't waste electricity, we're bleeding money by the bucket.
On the bathroom door was a large sketch, with the identifying word TOILET. Inside, next to the item in question, were aluminum handrails and knurled grab bars. The handrails were anch.o.r.ed into studs and not drywall, as the manufacturer suggested. Noel eyed the bright yellow padded toilet seat, whose lid had been removed. On the floor was a broken seat-raiser with arms, awaiting repairs. On the wall beside the toilet were instructions: 1.Lift up skirt/pull down pants, etc.2.Sit down on yellow seat.3.Relax.4.Wait for egress.5.Use toilet paper. 6.Push green flus.h.i.+ng lever.
Noel followed the instructions to the letter, including using the pink toilet paper and pressing the lever with a FLUSH decal on it. He stood up and looked in the mirror, on which another sign had been pasted: 1.Take toothbrush. 2.Put paste on brush. 3.Brush your top teeth. 4.Brush your lower teeth.5.Rinse mouth with water.
Noel washed his hands, walked out of the bathroom and down the hall. Along the way, he looked for signs that everything was all right.
”Hi Mom, how are things?”
”Not so good.”
”But ... what are you doing?”
Books were scattered over the rush matting of the family room, and one bookcase had capsized. His mother was sitting cross-legged on a Persian carpet, two open books on her lap. ”I can never remember where we keep it,” she said.
”Keep what?”
”You know.”
”The money?”
His mother nodded.
”Mom, we don't hide our money anymore. I did it as a kid, remember? Because you did it as a kid.”
”It's in one of these books but I can't remember which one. My entire fortune.”
”No, it's not-”
”Yes it is, I just never told you.”
”Mom, we don't have a fortune. Not anymore. What little money we do have is kept in a bank. Would you like to go and make a withdrawal? Would you like me to go?”
”It was him.”
”Him who?”
”Our neighbour. Fred.”
”Fred? Mr. Pickett? In Babylon? The president of the Long Island Parrot Society?”
”He stole our money. I never liked him.”
”Mom, Mr. Pickett died in 1988. I think I know where the money is. Do you remember? I used to keep it in the Oxford English Dictionary Oxford English Dictionary. In the 'LOOK-MOUKE' volume. Because 'mouke' used to mean 'money'. I'll tell you what. You keep looking and I'll check the dictionary, OK?”
Noel walked over to the twenty-volume set, opened up the appropriate volume and, after making sure he wasn't being watched, took out his wallet, removed a wad of cash, stuffed it between the pages.
”Mom, I've found it! You were right!” He handed the volume to his mother, who smiled as she extracted the money and clutched it to her breast.
”I want to go to the bank,” she said. ”Now. And put this in my account.”
”Good idea. But do you want me to do it for you? I'm going there anyway.”
She counted the money and handed half to her son.
”Why don't you watch TV until I get back?” said Noel.
”I can't.”
”You can't? Is the set broken?”
”Yes.”
Noel walked over and pushed in a plastic square. The box warmed to life. ”No, it's not, Mom. Look.”
”The shows are different now. They're ... broken. I can't understand what's going on. It's all too much nowadays. The world goes too fast. And too far. What did your father call it?”
Here we go again, thought Noel. ”Call what?”
”You know.”
”No, I don't.”
”Yes you do. You're just hiding it from me. As usual.”
”I am not hiding anything.”
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