The Night Bell by Inger Ash Wolfe

be passing telepathic considerations. They exchanged one glance, then another. Hazel followed Mira out of the kitchen. They heard Emily say, “You have to wonder what the world is coming to if you can’t go for a walk in broad daylight.”
    “Would you mind taking back your cigarettes? She’s
ninety
,” Hazel said.
    “Of course. Do you have power of attorney over your mother?”
    “Are you kidding me?”
    “We can’t really do anything without someone’s consent. Will she consent to taking a sedative?”
    “Can we trick her?”
    “
I
can’t,” she said.
    They returned to the kitchen and Mira said, “We’ll be going then.” She gestured to her partner. “Thank you, Madam Mayor, for having us.”
    “It was a great pleasure. Be careful now.”
    “And we hope your headache goes away. Maybe you should take something?”
    “For what?”
    “To help your headache.”
    Emily spent a moment processing what Mira meant. “It’ll go away on its own,” she said.
    The paramedics left.
Enough
, Hazel thought. She got up – to use the washroom, she said – and went quietly to her own bathroom where she kept her Ativan. They were the blue sublinguals, the ones that got to work right away. Then she crept back downstairs, silently opened the front door, and rang her own doorbell. “I’ll get it,” she called. “Just a minute!” She waited there for a moment, her mind racing. “Oh, that’s terrific. Thank you so much! We really do appreciate it.” She closed the door loudly enough to be heard in the kitchen.
    “Isn’t that good service?” she said to her mother. “They sent the pills for your headache.”
    “My head is fine. And I’d better get a move on. Alan will be out at three.” She stood, or tried to stand, and then she sat again. “Goodness,” she laughed. “Can’t be tired at lunchtime!”
    “You’d better take one of the pills that nice lady sent over. Pep you up.”
    “Pep me up, eh? What is it?”
    “A pep pill,” Hazel said brightly. Wingate filled a glass of water. She opened her hand to show her mother the two small blue pills.
    “What are they?”
    “They’re vitamins for your health. You haven’t had them yet today, have you?”
    “Oh – I don’t think so.”
    “Good thing she remembered!” said Wingate, handing her the glass.
    Emily took it from him. Then she took the pills. Just accepting them had a magical effect, as if some part of her knew she was not well. Almost before she’d finished the water, she began to look drowsy. She shrugged her shoulders up. “Where is Alan?” she asked. Then her eyes began to close.
    Wingate drove back to Port Dundas. There were small blocks of wood duct-taped to his brake and accelerator pedals now, as it was hard for him to push his right foot down. And it was a task getting out of the car, as well as assembling his movements in the right order to achieve a standing position. Getting out of a car was only slightly easier than getting into one, which involved leaning away while facing front, squatting while on one leg, turning and bending, and falling backward.
    Much of the time, his body felt like something he was wearing, some kind of technologically advanced suit that sometimes moved under mental command but often didn’t. He had to get it properly oriented before walking across a parking lot and opening a door, for instance. Greene met him as he was coming through the pen. “I don’t know what to tell you, Commander,” Wingate said. “Her mother seemed really out of it.”
    “Should you be in your uniform?”
    “I thought just in case.”
    Greene gave him an appraising squint. “In case of what?”
    “Hazel’s at home with an emergency. I thought –”
    “Did they go to the hospital?”
    “No. She’s staying at home. To watch her. Emily.” Half the pen was empty. “Is everyone back on the sweep today?”
    “Most of them. I sent Fraser to the Fremonts’ and Macdonald’s interviewing people about Renald. So far