Dirty Money

By on Nov 18, 2013 in Fiction, Humor

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Dirty money

Wyndy thought of the pristine, crisp bills at work. If she saw this much dirty money at the bank, she’d ask questions. She’d bring it to someone’s attention. Wyndy’s darkened fingers toyed with the remaining thick stack of uncounted bills as she wondered if Clare could really be dead. She didn’t think so. No such luck. If I’m not careful, she might get the last laugh. Maybe she already has. Maybe she’ll wait for me to spend some and then report me. Wyndy would be looking over her shoulder for Clare for a long time.

Maybe if I gave some of it away, it would appease her. I could tuck one in a library book.

Wyndy cleaned the sink, then filled it with soapy water and set to the task of washing each bill. 

In a deck of cards at the retirement home.

She lined the counter with paper towels and laid each bill out to dry. 

Keeping most for me, of course. 

She vowed to put herself on a strict schedule. No big purchases. One or two dirty bills spent here or there on something cheap, she decided. The change could then be deposited. Over time.

Tucked into someone’s post office box? No, post offices have cameras. I’d get caught. A budding respect for Clare grew in Wyndy. She had the ability to give away money without being seen. 

Then again, I figured it out.     

It took over two hours to scrub all the bills. She surveyed her work. The counter tops were lined with thousands of dollars.

They still look dirty. Clare’s mess is going to take a lot of time to clean up. I wonder if I could use a little bleach on them?

She wondered, too, if she should be feeling gratitude for the gift. She didn’t. Not yet. Maybe never. 

Clare, of all people, would understand that.

She took one fifty, dried it with her blow dryer, put it in her billfold and, after making sure the windows were locked and the curtains closed, she left for a desperately needed manicure.

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About

Nancy S.M. Waldman grew up in Texas but has been moving northward ever since. She now lives on Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, in Atlantic Canada. A former R.N. and artist, she writes mainstream and speculative fiction full-time, except when she's maintaining her various web sites, traveling to visit her far-flung family, or hanging out with her husband on the porch of their vividly-painted old house in the woods. She is one of the founders of Third Person Press, an independent publishing venture that nurtures and promotes regional speculative fiction. Nancy's short fiction has been published in The Men's Breakfast from Breton Books, The Nashwaak Review, and in three anthologies — Undercurrents, Airborne and Unearthed. Find out more at: http://nancysmwaldman.com.

2 Comments

  1. ethel Clark November 19, 2013

    This charming tale has all the qualities of an interesting read: light-hearted, mysterious, witty and humorous. Clare Cormer captured my attention from the moment she stood in line at the bank – and more so, when she tapped into Wyndy’s curiosity. Clare knew how to manipulate people into thinking what she wanted them to. All in all, I was thoroughly entertained by the author’s creation – great job Nancy Waldman.

  2. Susanne November 19, 2013

    :D I loved Dirty Money !! I dislike dirty money.