The Mannequins Behind The Curtains

Pauline cried out, “Jackie’s responsible...it’s her fault.”  Her sobs were piteous.

What’s she blaming Jackie for? Amanda wondered.  How much does Pauline really know?  I’ve never told her a word, and I doubt Preston has. “What’s this about Jackie?”

“It’s broken.”

“What’s broken?”

“Her hand.”

Confused, Amanda asked, “Jackie’s hand is broken?”

“No.  Rosemary’s hand.  You know her.”

So it’s the mannequin she’s referring to, Amanda reasoned.

“And some stranger keeps calling.  I can’t stop her.”  The sobbing eased as they talked.

“What stranger.  Does she identify herself?”

“I’m not imagining it.  She keeps calling, and she broke her hand.  I can’t fix it alone.”

“Just a minute, Pauline.  Tell me what happened.”

“She fell down the stairs...I think. I didn’t see her fall.  It’s badly broken.  She acts like she knows me, when she calls, but I don’t know her.”

Again Pauline wasn’t making sense, so Amanda said, “What can I do to help you, Pauline?”

“Come over, please come help me.  I can’t mend it.”

The plaintive plea touched Amanda.  How could she refuse?  After all, this is Preston’s sister.  “Sure.  I’ll be right over.”

When she hung up, she felt she needed a good swift kick herself.  Help Pauline glue a hand on a mannequin?  My brain must be twisted, too, she thought.  At least it won’t take long to get there, but Preston ought to be the one going to help.