Gargantuan_ A Ruby Murphy Mystery - Maggie Estep [28]
I got out of the truck and went inside. Johnny’s daughter Nan was sitting there, smoking and reading People magazine. On the counters around her were big old-fashioned glass containers full of colorful candies. The candy aspect of the store didn’t do booming business considering that the neighborhood, which had been predominantly Spanish for a few decades, was now infested with white hipsters who mostly steered clear of candy—coming in only occasionally to soak in the quaint factor.
Nan’s cigarette was propped between her lips and a good two inches of ash threatened to fall on her huge belly. Girl was eight months pregnant. I’d once made the mistake of mentioning to Karen that Nan was knocked up and smoking and Karen had stormed in there and given Nan a piece of her mind—along with photos she’d downloaded off the Internet depicting birth defects in kids whose mothers had smoked. As a result, I’d been persona non grata at Johnny’s for a couple of months and Karen had been permanently banned from the place.
“Hey, girl,” I nodded at Nan. She looked up from her magazine and scowled. She was a cute kid actually, a petite brunette with blue eyes. She’d just turned twenty and was apparently already starting on her mama’s path of popping out a kid every other year. This was her second—the first, Mimi, currently asleep in a stroller behind the counter, had come out just fine, no birth defects in spite of the smoking.
“Pop’s in the back, Sal,” Nan said, going back to her magazine. She was still scowling—now with something to really scowl about considering her ash had fallen onto her stretchy pink top.
I went to the side of the counter and through the little door, down the hall and to the back room. Johnny was on the phone, as was his son, Nicky. A third guy whose name I couldn’t remember, some kind of cousin, was staring at the TV that was broadcasting the OTB channel. Normally, this time of day, the channel would have been broadcasting Aqueduct, but with the Big A being closed, they had some Gulfstream Park races showing.
“Howya doin’, Sal?” the cousin said.
“Good. What’s up?” I said.
“Nothing at Aqueduct today. Fuckin’ snow.”
“Ehh, watch your mouth, Fulvio,” Johnny said, having just hung up from taking a bet. Johnny was Catholic. We all were, but Johnny’s Catholicism adhered to a peculiar moral code that said being a bookie and hitting the sauce were okay but no cursing or birth control. “Sal, howya doin’?” he asked me.
“Good,” I nodded.
“Where ya been?” he asked, though he knew damned well his daughter hadn’t let me set foot in the place for three months.
“Busy,” I said, playing his little game.
“You remember Fulvio, right?” Johnny wanted to know.
I nodded again. No wonder I hadn’t remembered the guy’s name. What the hell kind of name was Fulvio? I knew the kid had been born in Naples. His folks had come over when he was little so I didn’t think he even spoke Italian anymore but he had a seriously Italian name.
The phone rang and Johnny got it.
Nicky had hung up from his call now.
“Hey, Sal, howya doin’?”
I was getting a little sick of telling them how I was doing, but unless someone else came in the room I wouldn’t have to answer the question again after this.
“Good, Nicky, how’s by you?”
“Took a bath on the second at Gulfstream.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Yeah,” the kid shrugged.
Nicky was a good-looking kid. One thing you could say for Johnny and his missus, at least six of their eleven kids were good-looking.
“Who’s Velasquez riding at Gulfstream today?” I asked, figuring since I’d somehow ended up here, I must have had a bet on my mind.
“He’s on a maiden filly in the next race. I can give you twenty to one on her.”
“Yeah? Who’s the filly?”
“First-time starter. Dunno. But she’s by Hennesy,” he said, uttering the sire’s name with reverence.
“Yeah, that and two dollars will get her on the subway.”
“Yeah, could be,” Nicky said. “Two hundred large at Keeneland yearling sale though,