You Don't Love This Man

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Book: Read You Don't Love This Man for Free Online
Authors: Dan Deweese
have to not tell anybody about it right now, and then later remember it or whatever. I know this stuff, I’m just a little rattled right now is all. I’m kind of rambling. Look at my hand.” She held it up so I could see she was still shaking. She didn’t know what she was saying, and probably wouldn’t remember any of it. She was actually smiling at the sight of her trembling hand, amazed by it.
    â€œI think you should call your mom,” I said. “You can use the phone right here.”
    â€œIs that okay?”
    â€œOf course,” I said.
    I left the office as Amber dialed, and made sure to close the door behind me.
    Â 
    â€œT HE POLICE want to talk to you,” Catherine said. She had headed for me as soon as she saw me emerge from my office, and executed the little pirouette necessary to turn and fall in step with me as I continued across the branch.
    â€œI’m surprised they know I’m here,” I said. “They haven’t so much as looked at me.”
    â€œWell you didn’t exactly introduce yourself.” A lapel pin she was wearing caught the light—it was a little golden bouquet no larger than a thumbnail, in which a few tiny gemstones sparkled in place of flowers. Catherine was a lover of nature, and kept little items of sylvan inspiration about her at all times. As we passed her desk, a photo of curled clouds floating across her computer screen dissolved into the image of a giant redwood, and I carefully avoided entanglement in a passel of willow branches stretching from the ceramic vase on her desk’s corner. “I’ve already told them your daughter’s getting married today and you can only stay a few minutes,” she said.
    â€œDid you tell them it’s at six, or are they under the impression it’s any minute?”
    â€œI didn’t tell them when. I just said ‘today.’”
    â€œGood. But you don’t have to sacrifice yourself, either. Don’t you have your own plans between now and then? Hiking, or communing with nature in some other way?” Catherine was invited to the wedding, of course, and knew many of the wedding plans and details because she had asked me about them over the months of planning, but I wanted to be clear that she didn’t owe me anything beyond her time at the bank.
    â€œPlease,” she said. “My day isn’t even a concern.”
    As we continued across the lobby, I noticed a white-haired and slightly stooped older man standing before Amber’s teller station. He wore a powder blue oxford tucked into navy blue slacks, and held in the palm of his left hand a flat tin tray, while in his right he wielded a black-bristled brush. The man lowered his brush to the tray, made a few deft back-and-forth swipes with it, and then raised it again so that he could address the countertop with painterly consideration. “Who is that?” I said.
    â€œFingerprints, I assume,” Catherine said.
    The uniformed officers headed toward us then. The badge of the first one read “Martinez,” and the gray mixed within his closely cropped dark hair marked him as the senior member of the pair. His stocky build was furthered by the bulk of his uniform, and especially by the bulletproof vest he wore, which gave him the physique of a refrigerator box. He smiled widely and shook my hand with a formidable grip. “I know you’ve got bigger fish to fry today,” he said. “I have a daughter myself, and I’ve married her off twice now, actually. And we should be happy here, since it looks like everyone’s fine. I’ve seen plenty of robberies, and it’s hard to find one as quick and clean as this one.”
    â€œWe’ll need to get a statement from you,” the second officer told me, frowning down at a small notepad in his palm. He was taller, thinner, and younger than his partner, with ginger hair, red cheeks, and a badge that read

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