door of the house. Their wanting and needing were like hypodermic needles pushed deep into muscle in order to stifle movement. Theyâre trying to slow me down, he thought, fastening the lock across the garage door.
It was when the statement addressed to him from the Bank of Nova Scotia arrived that Elaine finally stormed out to the garage and confronted him. She slid the paper under the garage door and screamed, âOliver, I need you to explain this!â
âI have a new bank account, Elaine. And
that
is none of your business.â
âNone of my business?â she screamed. âSince when have our financial lives been separate?â
âSince three oâclock last Tuesday afternoon,â he said.
âBut where did you get the money to open this account, Oliver? Thereâs ten thousand dollars here.â
âFrom the Bank of Montreal,â he said matter-of-factly.
âYou mean from our account?â
âYes.â
âYes?â
She was aghast. Oliver had just drained the entirety of their savings and opened a new account under his name, and his name only. âBut why on earth would you do this?â she asked him.
âProtection,â he muttered.
âProtection?â she yelled. âIf youâre looking for protection, Oliver, this isnât going to get it for you. I have half a mind to go straight to the police.â
âYou canât go to the police,â he protested. âIâm your husband.â
âBut this is robbery!â she screamed. âOliver, I want you out of there. Out of this garage, just outâaway from this house!â
âBut itâs my house, too,â he said quietly. âAnd besides, where would I go?â he whimpered, though well out of earshot of Elaine who had by this time run through the back door of the house and picked up the phone to dial the police.
âHeâs not done anything illegal, maâam,â the officer on the other end of the line said.
âBut he has done something insane!â Elaine shouted, the rest of her drink sloshing out of the glass in her hand.
âBut not criminal.â
âYou donât call robbing your wife blind
criminal
?â
âI donât know what Iâd call it, but I donât think itâs us you want. Try the mental health authorities,â the officer said, and hung up.
Twenty-four hours later, she had a call from Dr. Eisenbaum. Elaine had ferreted out the psychological report on Oliver that had been prepared some years before and tracked down Dr. Eisenbaum in Montreal. He didnât remember Oliver exactly, but he did agree that there was at least one architect at McQuinn and Associates who heâd been asked to see for a psychological assessment some years earlier.
âThat would have been my husband,â Elaine said. âI have the report right here. Signed by you in February 1973. âSuperior IQ, delusional, overinflated sense of self-worth, self-aggrandizing, paranoid tendenciesââdoes that ring any bells?â
âFar too many, Iâm afraid, Mrs. Taylor,â said the doctor. âListen. Is he in any danger of harming himself or your family?â
âHeâs done plenty of harm already.â
âPhysical harm?â
âWell, no,â she had to concede.
âThen thereâs really nothing anyone can do. You can encourage him to see a psychiatrist, but you canât force him to do anything against his will.â
By the time Elaine went out to talk to him the next morning, Oliver, it seemed, had disappeared. The garage was locked and there was no response from inside. Elaine picked up a brick and threw it through thesmall window and stood on a rotting stump of wood in order to peer inside. Oliver was definitely gone. She enlisted Blueâs help then, giving him a leg up so he could cram his prepubescent body through the small window and open the door from inside. How
Learning to Kill: Stories