Michael Malone - Weebly

falling down the ladder. There was a thud. A muffled
grunt.
Mrs. Ransom pulled up her wad of clothes, then
stood to listen.
The only noise was the buzz of the vibrator. Turning
it off, she began to shake. Her legs trembled as she
walked to unlock her bedroom door.
She lay down on the bed, got up. From the
medicine chest she took a Valium, cut it in half with a
fingernail file, swallowed the half with the martini on her
night table, climbed back into the bed, and pulled the
Marimekko coverlet around her. She was certain that
the eyes were not those of anyone she knew well. That
would have been worse.
"Your mother has a headache and won't be joining
us for cock- tails. Emerald, your Gibson. Arthur, one
Scotch and soda coming up." Ernest Ransom mixed
highballs at the ebony liquor cabinet.
He had showered and changed from his suit to
madras slacks and a yellow knit shirt. "So. To the end
of another day, Arthur. How was yours?"
"Frustrating. I spent the public part of it going