put this behind me.” I stopped talking and sipped my drink, my brain buzzing.
“I say you solve the murder, bring the killer to justice, and save the day in general.” James clinked his glass against mine and smiled.
I laughed. “Look, right now my life is picking up dog shit and drinking. That’s about all I got going on.” He nodded. “The point is I don’t want to stand still anymore. I want to do something. Something real.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know, like you. You do real stuff. And Hugh does real stuff.”
“I create looks for TV advertising. I don’t know if I would consider that real.”
“But you do something. You contribute to society.”
“What would those dogs do without you?”
“You’re being sarcastic again.”
“Look Joy, if you want to do something, then do it. You can do anything you put your mind to.”
“I don’t know if you could say anything cheesier if you tried.”
“How about, I have faith in you.” He smiled at me and I knew it was true. He did have faith in me. “And one day you, too, will have faith in you.”
“I was wrong. You can get cheesier.” But I was touched and felt loved. And as I finished off the last of my margarita, I felt that I could do anything I put my mind to.
Leaving in a Hurry
Oscar the cat met me at Charlene Miller’s door and rubbed himself against my legs. I refilled his food and water dishes. Alone in the sink sat the glass Charlene had been drinking out of the last time I saw her.
“Is that strange?” I said to Oscar. He ignored me and concentrated on his food. Reaching into his bowl, he pulled out a piece of kibble with his paw, then another, followed by a third. He ate them off the floor, making loud crunching noises.
I wandered into her bedroom. It was a mess. The sheets and blankets were all twisted around. Clothing and shoes littered the floor. The bedside lamp was knocked over. I moved further into the room, careful not to touch anything. A book lay open on the floor next to a pot of moisturizer as if they had been pushed off her bedside table when the lamp fell. Small, dark-brown droplets fanned across the pillowcase. The apartment felt strangely still, and I suddenly wanted to leave.
Oscar took no notice of me on my way out. I closed and locked the door, then realized I was being silly. So she had left in a rush. That didn’t mean anything. I was just being paranoid. She said she had business to take care of. It must have been urgent business. The cat could have knocked all that stuff off her nightstand. Was my room at home in any better shape? My clothing and shoes were all over the place. But I still felt anxious. I stood outside her door wondering what to do when my cell phone rang. I jumped and then chastised myself for being so jumpy.
“Hello, this is Detective Mulberry.”
“Hi.”
“This is Joy Humbolt, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you are the same Joy Humbolt who found Joseph Saperstein’s body, correct?”
“Yes.” I thought about what a glaring coincidence it would be if there were another Joy Humbolt with my phone number who had not found the body of Joseph Saperstein.
“I would like you to come by the precinct so that we can have a conversation,” the Detective continued.
“When?”
“As soon as possible. This is a murder investigation,” he said.
I checked my watch, I didn’t have time before my next walk, so I told him I could come by around eight that night or early the next morning. He made a sound like that wasn’t good enough but said, “Tonight will be fine. I will see you around eight, correct?”
“Correct.” He gave me directions to the precinct on 67th Street, then hung up without saying goodbye.
Detective Motherfucking Mulberry
“Look, I’m trying to tell you what I know but you keep twisting my words around. I know what I saw and I know—”
“There’s no need for that tone of voice, Missy,” Detective Mulberry told
“I say you solve the murder, bring the killer to justice, and save the day in general.” James clinked his glass against mine and smiled.
I laughed. “Look, right now my life is picking up dog shit and drinking. That’s about all I got going on.” He nodded. “The point is I don’t want to stand still anymore. I want to do something. Something real.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know, like you. You do real stuff. And Hugh does real stuff.”
“I create looks for TV advertising. I don’t know if I would consider that real.”
“But you do something. You contribute to society.”
“What would those dogs do without you?”
“You’re being sarcastic again.”
“Look Joy, if you want to do something, then do it. You can do anything you put your mind to.”
“I don’t know if you could say anything cheesier if you tried.”
“How about, I have faith in you.” He smiled at me and I knew it was true. He did have faith in me. “And one day you, too, will have faith in you.”
“I was wrong. You can get cheesier.” But I was touched and felt loved. And as I finished off the last of my margarita, I felt that I could do anything I put my mind to.
Leaving in a Hurry
Oscar the cat met me at Charlene Miller’s door and rubbed himself against my legs. I refilled his food and water dishes. Alone in the sink sat the glass Charlene had been drinking out of the last time I saw her.
“Is that strange?” I said to Oscar. He ignored me and concentrated on his food. Reaching into his bowl, he pulled out a piece of kibble with his paw, then another, followed by a third. He ate them off the floor, making loud crunching noises.
I wandered into her bedroom. It was a mess. The sheets and blankets were all twisted around. Clothing and shoes littered the floor. The bedside lamp was knocked over. I moved further into the room, careful not to touch anything. A book lay open on the floor next to a pot of moisturizer as if they had been pushed off her bedside table when the lamp fell. Small, dark-brown droplets fanned across the pillowcase. The apartment felt strangely still, and I suddenly wanted to leave.
Oscar took no notice of me on my way out. I closed and locked the door, then realized I was being silly. So she had left in a rush. That didn’t mean anything. I was just being paranoid. She said she had business to take care of. It must have been urgent business. The cat could have knocked all that stuff off her nightstand. Was my room at home in any better shape? My clothing and shoes were all over the place. But I still felt anxious. I stood outside her door wondering what to do when my cell phone rang. I jumped and then chastised myself for being so jumpy.
“Hello, this is Detective Mulberry.”
“Hi.”
“This is Joy Humbolt, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you are the same Joy Humbolt who found Joseph Saperstein’s body, correct?”
“Yes.” I thought about what a glaring coincidence it would be if there were another Joy Humbolt with my phone number who had not found the body of Joseph Saperstein.
“I would like you to come by the precinct so that we can have a conversation,” the Detective continued.
“When?”
“As soon as possible. This is a murder investigation,” he said.
I checked my watch, I didn’t have time before my next walk, so I told him I could come by around eight that night or early the next morning. He made a sound like that wasn’t good enough but said, “Tonight will be fine. I will see you around eight, correct?”
“Correct.” He gave me directions to the precinct on 67th Street, then hung up without saying goodbye.
Detective Motherfucking Mulberry
“Look, I’m trying to tell you what I know but you keep twisting my words around. I know what I saw and I know—”
“There’s no need for that tone of voice, Missy,” Detective Mulberry told
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