Gargantuan_ A Ruby Murphy Mystery - Maggie Estep [76]
RUBY MURPHY
24.
Half Naked
A terrible ripping sound wakes me. I sit up in bed and see that it’s just Lulu, annoying me by ripping a brown paper bag she’s pulled out of the trash. The minute I lay eyes on her, she stops and looks at me guiltily. I throw back the covers and put my robe on, which is exactly what Lulu was hoping for. I have a pounding headache and my mouth is dry, like I was on a drinking binge in my dreams. I walk into the kitchen and start preparing the cats’ meat. It’s not until I’m scooping vitamin powder into the bowls of food that I start to remember last night. Attila running through the parking lot half naked, just to save me a few steps.
I look at my kitchen clock and see that it’s already close to nine and Attila’s day has long started. He’s probably on a horse. Probably thinking about his wife. I’m not sure when or how I started getting the idea that he’s still hung up on his wife but now that this notion has come to me, it won’t leave.
After drinking two cups of very strong coffee, I push Attila out of my mind and mull over last night’s phone conversation with Ed. I think I detected longing in his tone as he detailed the progress of his three modest racehorses and prodded me here and there about my whereabouts, probably having sensed I had something going with another man. As of last night, I really don’t know if I have something going with another man, so I didn’t volunteer anything. Ed and I talked amicably for about fifteen minutes and then hung up, vowing to stay in closer touch. I’m tempted to call him right now. To pour out the story of Attila. To tell Ed exactly how badly I miss him. Instead, I decide to shower, get dressed, and show up early for work.
As I leave the house, I light my first cigarette of the day. I blow smoke rings up to the pale sun as I walk.
I GET TO WORK and find that my boss, Bob, has gone on a cleaning spree and the little museum is a mess. Display cases have been pulled away from the walls, pictures have been taken down and my boss is on all fours, polishing the floor.
“Bob, what are you doing?” I ask.
He pauses, looks up at me from behind his pink-hued glasses, and grins ruefully.
“Place was filthy.”
True enough but that’s never bothered him before.
“I thought we were going to open early today,” I say. “What if people come up here? The place is a mess.”
“It’s okay, we’ll stay closed.”
“And you’re going to make me clean?” I ask, horrified.
“No no, wouldn’t dream of it, dear girl. Unless you want to volunteer.”
“Not particularly,” I say. Bob knows that, as a teenager, I worked as a maid at a hooker hotel in Sunset Park. There were a lot of unpleasant surprises while cleaning sheets and toilets used by prostitutes and their clientele. The experience forever soured me on heavy-duty cleaning.
“You want to go home and shack up with your jockey, huh?”
“His name is Attila and no, actually, I don’t. He’s at work. At the track. And I’m not sure how much more shacking I’ll be doing with him.”
“Oh?” My boss pauses and looks up. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug.
“You don’t want to tell me.”
“No, I’m just not really sure what’s going on. It seems like it’s ending.”
“All right. I’m here if you need an ear. But you don’t have to hang around. Go home. Play the piano. Do something useful. I’ll give you a half day’s pay since I did tell you to come in.”
“You will?” I’m astonished since our humble museum doesn’t generate a lot of cash and I’ve never known Bob to be unabashedly generous.
“Yeah. Go on,” he says.
I do as I’m told.
I walk down the creaky old stairs and out onto Surf Avenue. I look around, suddenly not sure what to do with myself. The sky is low and the streets are bleeding slush.
I know I should tend to myself. Shop for food, get some exercise, and call Mark Baxter to schedule a piano lesson, anything. One of the things I miss about being an active drunk is that life was simpler then. All I ever had to worry about was the next drink. If I ran out of food, I drank. If my laundry was dirty,