They Call Me Crazy by Kelly Stone Gamble Page A

wouldn’t be talking to Cass. We haven’t spoken in five years. When I first moved back to town, being around the two of them was hard enough on me. They were the epitome of the loving couple, and seeing it hurt more as the years went by. She would tell me things about Roland and her, things that girlfriends talk about, and my jealousy overwhelmed me at times. She also told me some things that I know aren’t true, that Roland said things that I know he wouldn’t say to her. She claimed he made fun of her, called her worthless, and said she was loony as a cartoon. I would shake my head and not encourage her, knowing if I did, she’d keep telling her tale. How could she lie about him? He wouldn’t say things to hurt someone. Not Roland.
    When they moved out of town, avoiding her was much easier. Of course, I lost Roland, too. While I don’t see him as much, when I do, it’s just us, and that’s at least a plus. But lately, he seems obsessed with her illness—or illnesses, I should say, after hearing him rattle off a list of medical terms that Dr. Kenney told him. It’s all he talks about. I don’t want to talk about her. I want to talk about me .
    I know Roland has been saving money. There’s enough there for Shaylene, and I don’t need any. I know that’s what he thinks, even though he’s never said it. But it’s not the money. I told him to just send Cass away, and he could stay here and continue to work, but he won’t do it. He feels he has a responsibility to her. Damn him. He has a responsibility to me, too.
    Murphy’s Grill is packed this morning. I figure I’ll stop in and see if anyone’s heard any gossip. I do that once in a while. Those peanut butter pies Mr. Murphy makes are a true weakness of mine. Run through it , I tell myself. I may be the gossip topic of the morning, and I don’t want to sit at the counter and eat my pie with a hundred eyes on my back.
    As the police station comes into view, I see Benny’s car in the chief’s parking space. He either had a late night or had to come in to cover the day shift. The election is six months away, so he’ll probably be pulling a lot of double duty for a while to get some exposure. I think his war record makes him a sure thing.
    I slow my pace when Clay and Babe Shatner exit the police station. Babe turns back several times and waves her arms as if cursing the building. Clay has his head down and drags his feet as he moves. I get a bad feeling in my stomach, as though someone made me swallow a large rock. I ease down to a walk, trying to fully catch my breath, and even though I’m not too happy about seeing Babe, I’ve got to know what’s going on. Something is wrong.
    Clay sees me coming, but he doesn’t smile. His eyes are red and puffy as if he’s been on a four-day drunk, but he doesn’t drink.
    I stop and wipe the sweat from my face, preparing myself for… whatever. “Clay?” I focus on him and avoid Babe’s glaring eye.
    He swallows hard. “Cassie is in jail. She killed Rolly.”
    I back up, reaching behind me for something to hold on to, but nothing’s there.
    Clay steps closer, and I grab his shoulder. He wraps his arms around me in a protective hug.
    Babe turns and announces, “She did not. She did not kill that man. I don’t care how it appears!”
    Her hair is disheveled, long strands of gray and white shooting in every direction, and she stands with her hands on her hips, that spread-leg stance that I have seen on Cass so many times before, as if she’s preparing for battle. Her face moves through a series of quick expressions, from anger, to hurt, to disbelief, then back to anger.
    She squints at me and waves a crooked forefinger. “ You are the devil.”

    The hummingbirds are back today. Their bright blue bodies move up and down, left to right, their wings pounding so fast that they’re just a blur of color against the afternoon sun. They never stop. Probably why they have such a short life span. I sit at my