by Maggie Estep
I LEFT RUBY to her thoughts as we made our way to the car and began the trip back down to the city. I thought maybe we’d pass the whole time in silence but about an hour down the thruway, she started talking.
“He was a good man,” was the first thing she said.
“I’m sure he was,” I said, though I didn’t really believe it.
“Really. He was. I can’t believe he’s dead.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Both of them,” she said.
I still wasn’t clear on exactly what had happened or why, but Ruby had been kidnapped by a deranged man who was after Attila Johnson. The man had locked her away in a cabin and boarded over the windows. She’d escaped by making a hole in the floor and crawling out from under the cabin. Then she had witnessed her lover and his wife being murdered.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Ruby said, speaking in a small flat voice. “I just let the guy walk out. He walked out and opened up his car door, called his dog. He had a dog. Then he just drove away.”
She didn’t tell me what she did then, but I had a feeling she had stayed in there with the bodies awhile. Saying her peace to her murdered lover, I suppose. I don’t know. There wasn’t a phone in the place and she’d started walking along the road until someone picked her up and gave her a ride to the police station.
“He was in trouble, Ruby,” I told her when she’d finished talking. “He’d been holding horses back and then all of a sudden he got a conscience about it. Attila got on the wrong side of a guy we’ve had an eye on for years. Guy had his fingers in everything. Prostitution, drugs, but ironically, he wasn’t doing anything crooked in racing. Owned a few horses but it was on the up-and-up. Apparently this was one thing he did for the love of it. Only he didn’t have much luck with his stock. His horses didn’t win races and I guess something like that doesn’t sit well with that kind of guy. He got tired of playing it straight. Resorted to what he knew. Paid off some riders, threatened others. Attila didn’t go for it though.”
Ruby asked what her kidnapping had to do with any of it.
“We don’t know that yet,” I told her, immediately feeling weird about the we, like I was in some club she wasn’t part of. “The Bureau I mean,” I corrected. “They haven’t got all the pieces yet.”
She didn’t seem to notice the correction.
“Ben Nester, the guy that grabbed you, he was just a groom working for some very small-time trainer. They got nothing on Nester. No idea how he ties in. Yet.”
She didn’t say anything then. I wanted her to ask me more questions. She didn’t though and I wasn’t going to push it.
It was close to dawn when I got her back to Coney Island. The edges of the sky were lightening, slowly pushing the night away.
Ramirez and Elsie were standing in the hall as we came in. Ruby said a few words to them then excused herself. She opened up the door to her apartment, walked in a few feet, then bent down to pet the cats. I stood in the doorway watching her. After a while, she made her way to the couch and sat down. She hefted Stinky, the big cat, into her lap and cradled him. She was staring ahead.
“Should I make you some breakfast?” I asked her softly.
“I don’t have any food,” she said.
“I could go get something.”
“I don’t care,” she said.
That hurt. I knew she didn’t mean anything by it. Just that I was the last thing on her mind right then.
I told her I was going to the store and went out. The sky had a lot of pink in it now but Coney Island was still asleep. I went over to Mermaid Avenue. Most of the shops wouldn’t open for hours but there was one open bodega with a cop cruiser parked in front of the place. Though the practice of selling pot, dope, or coke from tiny Puerto Rican-run grocery stores was long extinct in most of Manhattan, it still went on in the outer boroughs. This particular bodega must have done something to piss the cops off if they were blatantly watching the place. Charged them for lunch maybe. I glanced at the boys in blue and went in. I was surprised to find a carton of eggs that hadn’t reached its expiration date. I picked up a container of juice and some bread and butter and jam.
The wafting smells of my cooking didn’t animate Ruby much but she shoveled down a few mouthfuls of egg. I had about a decade’s worth of things I wanted to tell her but they’d keep. When I felt that staying any longer would be an outright intrusion, I told her I was going to head out.
“Okay,” she said.
“I’ll see you soon?” I asked but she didn’t answer. I didn’t push.
I CALLED HER the next day and in a flat voice she informed me she was fine. I didn’t ask if she wanted to see me.
I started thinking through things. I didn’t want to go back to Florida. I wanted to see my horses, train them, race them, but I didn’t want it all taken from me just weeks or months down the line. The Bureau had been able to get me a legitimate trainer’s license and I didn’t see why one couldn’t be issued to me on my own. I’d passed the trainer’s test. I’d even won a race already. Quitting the Bureau to train horses wasn’t necessarily a levelheaded, logical decision but horse people aren’t known for their level-headedness.
Two days after going up to rescue Ruby from Saugerties, I went into Headquarters and gave notice. No one really seemed to give a shit. There was too much going on. Terrorist alerts. A war-happy monkey for president. I proposed to buy my three claimers off and my boss, a not-so-friendly guy named Greg Langdorf, said he’d let me know. He seemed to think I was a bit soft in the head. I didn’t think that highly of him either.
No one at the Bureau seemed surprised by my announcement. The only one who had anything to say about it was Lenny, a guy I’d gone through the academy with.
“How will you live?” he asked me.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not gonna make any money,” he said.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I smirked at him.
“Hey, just stating the facts.”
“I don’t have a lot of overhead. And I soured on the Bureau a while ago. More than that though, I need to be around horses.”
Lenny didn’t really get it but I figured Ruby probably would. If I ever saw her again. For now, I decided I should just give her a lot of space. A few weeks’ worth.
I had just come back to the motel room to pack my things and head back to Florida to close up shop. My cell phone rang, and Cat, exhibiting a new neurosis, growled at the sound. I felt like growling at it myself until I saw the incoming number: Ruby’s.
At first she screamed at me. I’d never heard her outright angry. But I was sure hearing it now. I started grinning. I was glad she couldn’t see it. That would have made her even angrier.
I threw some food in Cat’s bowl then got in the car and drove to Ruby’s. Fast.
I don’t know what I’d expected, but she looked great. Her strength was back.
“You look great,” I said, venturing to peck her on the cheek.
“I do?” She seemed genuinely surprised.
“Yes.”
We sat on her couch. We looked at each other.
“I feel weird,” she said.
“I would imagine so,” I said.
“I don’t mean about Attila. I just feel sad about him. He didn’t deserve that. I meant I feel weird about you.”
“Oh,” I said.
“I’ve missed you,” she said in a very small voice.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. A lot,” she said.
It occurred to me that she had a funny way of showing it. But I didn’t mention her taking up with a crooked jockey.
“Attila just happened. I didn’t know where you and I stood. And he just sort of walked into my life and I let him. But it deteriorated as suddenly as it came on. I think it was over. And now of course, he’s dead.”
“I’m sorry, Ruby.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“No, I mean about not communicat
ing better. I was, I still am crazy about you. I thought about you constantly when I was in Florida.”
“You did?”
“I did.”
“And now you’re going back to Florida.”
“No.”
“You’re not?”
“Well, I am for a short time. But I’m coming back here. I’ve quit the Bureau.”
“What?”
“Had to do it. It was just luck that I got two horse-related jobs in a row. Soon I’d be sent somewhere undesirable to do something repellent on behalf of a government I no longer wish to serve. I got horses in my blood and I need to tend to that.”
And the other thing I needed to tend to was her. The girl was in my blood as surely as those horses were. I leaned over and kissed her. I thought I would taste her grief. But I didn’t. She’d absorbed it already, contained it inside herself, in a place that wouldn’t taint what was between us.
I LOOK DOWN at her now. She’s still lying on her side with her knees tucked up toward her chest. There’s a breeze coming in from one of the windows she opened to welcome an unseasonably warm day. Her hair is falling in her face and I reach over to push it away. She stirs a little and opens her eyes. I kiss her.
BEN NESTER
39.
Ether
Crow lies down next to me and rests his head on his paws as the train pulls out of the station. All around us, people are speaking French. It’s sort of soothing to not understand them, to be surrounded by something melodic and incomprehensible. I’m inclined to like France. In the few hours I’ve been here, I’ve noted that dogs are treated like royalty. And so it is that Crow is sitting next to me on the train, being given full rights.
It’s the middle of the day and the train is half empty. Two seats ahead of me are three high-school-aged girls discussing something in lively voices. To my right is a man in a business suit speaking with a woman in a red dress. The woman says very little. The man sounds like he’s trying to talk her into something. As the train picks up speed, Crow sits up and looks out the window, watching the French countryside slip by. We’re not far from Paris, passing through suburbs but they aren’t bad looking. Even generic apartment houses seem more attractive than their American counterparts.
In a half hour, we’ll be in Versailles. I have no idea what I’ll do once I’m there, but I have to go. My mother had always wanted me to go to her hometown of Versailles, Kentucky, but I can’t do that now. I figured maybe Versailles, France, was the next best thing. Not that I knew that’s where I was going that day when I accidentally killed the jockey and his wife. I hadn’t really meant to kill those people but they were trying to hurt Crow and I couldn’t stand for that. Once I realized what I’d done, I knew I had to hide. I drove to Manhattan and me and Crow slept in the car. When I woke up the next morning, I figured people might be looking for me. I shaved off all my hair and decided to grow a beard. I even thought about dyeing Crow’s off-white fur but I thought it might make him sick so I didn’t.
I didn’t have much money or ideas on how to get more. The one thing I knew was that I should go to Versailles. I went to a vet right then that first day in New York to find out what all I had to do to take Crow to France. I had to get him shots, a health certificate, and have him microchipped for ID purposes. I hated to have something implanted in his body like that but there was no way around it. I had to get a passport for myself too. Thankfully, I’d been calling myself Ben Nester for a long time, but that was just the name I’d been using since age sixteen when I’d decided to stop going to school and give myself a new start. Being Ben Nester hadn’t turned out that well so now I would go back to being Carver Brown. The police, however, would be looking for Ben Nester. Carver hadn’t ever done anything wrong and, besides, he had a birth certificate and even an expired driver’s license.
I used most of what money I had left to get Carver Brown a rush job passport. But I still had to get a ticket to France.
I was dirty and broke, living in my car in one of the most expensive cities in the world. I was starting to feel trapped.
I figured I’d do one more thing my mother had always wanted to do. She had loved classical music and she’d always told herself she would go to New York one day and go to Carnegie Hall. Once I came along though, she didn’t go much of anywhere. So I thought I should go for her. I didn’t look that good and I only had sixty dollars. I left Crow in the car and went to the Turkish baths and got myself cleaned up some then I went up to Carnegie Hall. I wasn’t even sure if it would be open or what would be happening but I got there at seven and there were people milling around everywhere. I couldn’t figure out where I was supposed to buy tickets, so I was standing in the lobby, packed between all sorts of people and not knowing what to do, when an opportunity presented itself. There was a lady in a disgusting fur coat who had her purse dangling near me and the purse was open and I could see her wallet. So I just reached in and took it. I slowly made my way to the other side of the lobby. I was still packed in between many people and all of a sudden it was like the gods were making offerings to me. I found myself behind a man who obviously had a wallet in his back pocket. Someone else happened to bump into him and while they were all apologizing to each other, I took that man’s wallet too. I made my way through that lobby collecting wallets like nothing at all. Totally effortless.
I’d never in my life been a thief, but I figured it was okay. It had started with the lady in the fur coat and people shouldn’t wear dead animals.
Eventually, I found the place to buy tickets, only apparently the show was sold out. It didn’t matter though, at least I’d set foot in Carnegie Hall.
I left.
I went back downtown to where the car was parked. Crow was particularly glad to see me, like maybe he’d sensed I was up to something that might have gotten me in trouble. He did some extreme licking of my face and hands, making glad sounds as he did it. I just closed my eyes and let him. When he’d settled down a little, I took the four wallets out of my coat and opened them. The first one only had forty-something dollars in it and a lot of credit cards but I didn’t want to get caught by using credit cards. The second wallet had a hundred and something and more credit cards. In the third wallet, I hit the jackpot. It was a red alligator wallet I’d taken from the lady with the fur coat. The thing was filled with hundred-dollar bills. Over two thousand dollars’ worth. The fourth wallet only had a couple hundred but that was fine. I had plenty now.
A few days later, Crow and I flew to Paris. All I had was a big backpack with two changes of clothes and my toothbrush. My seat turned out to be in the middle of a row of seats, packed in between two Frenchmen. They didn’t say a word to me though and I spent the first few hours worrying about Crow being transported like luggage in the plane’s belly. I had to drink a lot to calm down about it and then, thankfully, I slept.
When we landed in Paris, I raced to the special baggage area to retrieve Crow and he actually seemed okay. A little put out, but okay. I started trying to figure out how to get to Versailles, which is when I learned that dogs are royalty in France and can go anywhere. I just left Crow’s crate by the trash at the airport and Crow and I eventually found the right train.
OUTSIDE THE TRAIN windows, the suburbs are becoming quainter. Old houses with beautiful slate roofs. Majestic ancient trees popping early spring buds.
The train pulls into the station at Versailles and for a minute I’m panicked, not really knowing where I’m going to go. Then I see signs everywhere steering the way to the château. I follow the signs, passing pretty old buildings lined with cafés and souvenir shops. A wide elegant boulevard leads directly to the back of the palace. It is imposing, an enormous stone structure that appears to go on for miles. I feel my mother with me as I approach. I know she’s glad for my getting to see something like this. Crow and I walk to the side of the palace, over an old cobblestoned courtyard and to the back, where the formal gardens stand. It’s a cold day but there are thousands of touri
sts in spite of this and at first I’m disappointed. It’s all so well kept and grand. A long series of vast terraces lead to a fountain and beyond it to a long canal. It’s certainly big, but it’s too manicured for my tastes. I walk though. Crow trots at my side. We head down past the fountain, threading through packs of tourists and happy couples. We walk along the broad canal for a bit and then, to my right, I see a very long road lined with enormous old trees. We turn down this road and the throng of tourists thins out, giving way to people walking with kids and dogs. Then, to my astonishment, we come to a field full of horses. Very well-groomed, lush-looking horses. I don’t know what the hell they’re doing there and I want to ask someone but I don’t speak French. There’s a sign up at the end of the pasture, but that too is in French. I start reading it anyway and I get the idea that there is some sort of equestrian school here on the grounds.
I stare at the horses for a long while and, for the first time in days, I let myself think of Darwin. I feel tears come into my eyes. I know the little guy is probably fine, but I don’t have any way to keep tabs on him now and that breaks my heart.
I’m standing like this, staring into the field, trying to keep the tears inside, when a woman starts talking to me. She’s speaking French and at first it doesn’t occur to me that she’s speaking to me. Finally, she lightly touches my shoulder and I turn my head toward her. She’s a middle-aged woman with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She’s wearing a bottle green wool cape and she has a very fancy-looking camera strapped to her neck.
She says something in French and I shake my head at her.
She tries some other language which, I suspect, is Italian.
