Citizen Insane

Chapter Seven





CHILLS RIPPLED DOWN MY SPINE while little hairs jumped to attention on the nape of my clammy neck. Suddenly, this had become a totally different game of ball. I didn’t waste Michelle like a pro-bowler taking down ten pins in a strike. Someone had been playing a deadly round of lead marbles with her long before Roz and I came along. Poor Michelle. Who would do such a thing? If we hadn’t been heading out to Bunny’s . . . uh oh. Bunny Bergen. Of course! And Roz said I was being silly about her threatening to kill Michelle.

“Barb? You okay?” Howard’s voice shocked me back to the present.

“Howard—it was Bunny.”

“What?”

“They had a fight—Bunny and Michelle—tonight after the PTA meeting. She even said she’d kill her. And that’s why Roz and I were going out so late. Bunny called me to come over. She probably shot her in some heated moment of passion and then regretted it. Or maybe she didn’t regret it. Maybe we were next. I knew she was insane. You need to send people over there right now!”

Howard shook his head. “It’s a police matter. The FBI isn’t involved.”

“But you can tell them about Bunny, right?”

“I . . .” he hesitated. “I can’t talk about this.”

“Why were you at her house this morning anyway? What’s going on with Bunny Bergen? You know something.”

“I told you I can’t talk about this.”

Roz popped up, holding up a pair of keys in her hand. “I’m ready. I thought it would be better if I followed in my own car. Then we have a way home if they release you. That okay with you?”

I didn’t want to let the topic go. “Howard?”

He wasn’t budging. “You need to go.”

Bewildered, Roz glanced between us. “Did anyone hear what I said?”

Fine. If Howard didn’t care that Bunny Bergen was running around assassinating the mothers of Rustic Woods, then neither did I. “Sure, Roz. That’s a good idea. Juan will keep me company, right Juan?”

Juan smiled while wrapping things up for our departure.

“I’ll call you to check in,” Howard said, putting his hand on mine.

“Sure. You go do your job.”

“Barb—I love you. We’ll talk about. . . that other thing later.”

“Bunny?”

“No. The OTHER, other thing.”

Juan, as wonderful as he was, interrupted Howard at the absolutely wrong moment. “Time to go.”

Howard stepped away, the doors swung closed, the siren whooped, and we were off.

True to her word, Roz followed right on our tail and walked alongside my gurney as the EMTs wheeled me through the emergency entrance at Rustic Woods Hospital. After I answered a gazillion questions, they rolled me into a curtained area where the checked my blood pressure and tested my pupils for dilation. People kept coming and going. Roz and I didn’t have enough privacy to talk to Roz about Michelle, the gunshot wounds, or Bunny. Could Bunny be crazy enough to attempt murder? I wondered whether Roz had said anything to the police about her.

“Mrs. Marr, a doctor will be here soon. Lie back and relax.” The gray-haired, spectacled nurse pulled the curtain behind her, finally leaving Roz and me alone.

Roz scooted her little stool to the side of my bed, her eyes wide in curiosity. “Did Howard tell you anything?”

“Michelle is alive, did you know that?”

“Yes. I’m so relieved.”

“Do you know she was walking around with three gunshot wounds when I hit her?”

“No!”

I nodded. “Howard says I barely tapped her. They can’t believe she’s still alive—whoever shot her really wanted her DOA.”

Roz’s jaw dropped. “That’s awful. I guess it’s lucky that Bunny called you. We wouldn’t have been out otherwise. Who knows what would have happened?”

“Lucky? Or planned event? Roz. Aren’t you following the dots here?”

She rolled her eyes. I was really tired of people rolling their eyes at me. I’m not as stupid as I look. “Roz. Think. Bunny shows up on my lawn looney as a tune. Then the entire Rustic Woods fire and rescue brigade descends on her house—just because she ran over a rabbit? Really? I’m not buying it. Then she threatens Michelle in broad daylight—”

“It was night time.”

“In broad nightlight—says she’ll kill her—then, as the song goes, ‘isn’t it ironic?’ Michelle shows up filled with more holes than a bag of lifesavers. AND whose phone call caused me to get me to get in my car and ultimately hit Michelle? Hmm?”

Roz crossed her arms. “That song has nothing to do with irony.”

“Would you stay on topic here?”

“I don’t get what one thing has to do with the other.”

“You mean, that she threatens to kill Michelle and then Michelle ends up almost killed?”

“No—I mean I don’t know what this morning’s event has to do with the other thing.”

“You mean, that she has a mondo bizarro meltdown, then threatens to kill Michelle, then Michelle ends up almost killed? That thing?”

“Okay—you made your point.” She crossed her arms. “It’s suspicious.”

“Thank you.” I blew some dangling hair out of my face. “And yet, Howard doesn’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told Howard about their fight after the PTA. He didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, that is a little strange. Something else too, now that I think of it.”

“About Bunny?”

“No—back at the accident scene. When the police questioned me, they asked basic questions, like why we were out, where we were going, whether you’d been drinking. Things you’d expect them to ask. But, if they knew she’d been shot, why didn’t they ask me if I’d seen anything suspicious?”

I silently wondered the same thing. “Me too,” I said finally. “Same questions.”

“They questioned your mom too.”

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t think they questioned her so much as she gave them a load of information they may or may not have wanted. Evidently there was some man at your house with her after the PTA meeting.”

“Russell Crow.”

“Who?”

“Not the actor—the fire fighter.”

“Yum.”

“Trust me. He’s as good as they get.”

“Muscles?”

“Sculpted like a DaVinci original.”

“Five o’clock shadow?”

“Sensationally sexy stubble.”

“Wow. At your house?”

“My mother is trying to set me up with him.”

“You’re married.”

“She thinks that’s negotiable. So does Howard I guess.”

“Anyway,” Roz said, “I did mention that we were on our way to Bunny Bergen’s house, since they asked where we were going. So Howard won’t be looking into her as a suspect?”

“He said it’s a police matter. The FBI isn’t involved.”

She ran her hands through her hair. “Well, I’m tired. I just want to get home and forget that any of this happened.” The phone in her hand rang, startling us both. She looked at the display. “Peggy.”

Just as Roz answered, a lady doctor pulled the curtain back. “Cell phones aren’t allowed in the hospital. You’ll need to take that outside.”

“Peggy, I’ll call you back.”

Roz left while the lady introduced herself as Dr. Vaziri then gave me the once over for the umpteenth time.

“How’s your head, Mrs. Marr?”

“It’s sore where the branch hit,” I said, touching my bandaged forehead. “Otherwise, it’s fine.”

“I see no reason to admit you. You don’t show signs of concussion or swelling. They brought you in because you lost consciousness when you took that blow to your head, but that may have been due to the mental trauma of the other accident. I suggest you go home and rest. Make sure someone stays with you for at least twenty-four hours.”

I didn’t tell her that my chances of keeping that promise were iffy at best.

Roz drove us home while I talked to Peggy on her cell.

“She was shot?” asked Peggy.

“Three times.”

“How is she?”

“I don’t know. Howard says she’s lucky to be alive—the shots were at close range.”

“I’ll stop by her house tomorrow and see if I can help her husband in any way. He’s such a nice guy.”

“How well do you know Michelle?”

“She goes to my church and her boys come over to play sometimes. This is just awful. How are you?”

“Tired. Can we finish talking tomorrow?”

“Si, Signora. I’ll talk to you both after I run my morning errands.”

The clock on Roz’s dash read 2:31 a.m. when we pulled onto White Willow Circle. The neighborhood was void of law enforcement and emergency vehicles. All signs of turmoil were gone. So was my van. Howard’s car was parked on the street though. Roz wanted to walk me up to the front door, but I insisted that she just let me out in the driveway. I might have run over a dying woman and tried to decapitate myself with a tree limb, but I wasn’t an invalid.