“Arnold sent his men over,” she said. “Two of them. Maybe you’ve met them.”
“I don’t need to meet them. They attacked you?”
“I’ve already talked with Arnold. I thought you were the police. I thought he might have called them.”
“Did they rape you, Maggie?”
“I’m taking care of things. I don’t need any help. Why are you here?”
“Why do you think? My son’s time is probably running out. You have to tell me what you know.”
“You think I’m privy to all of Arnold’s secrets. I’m not. He owns property all over Texas. Ishmael could be anywhere.”
“Give me something. Anything. Even if it seems unimportant.”
Then a phenomenon took place in her eyes that he had seen before but had never been able to deal with. They became impenetrable, the pupils reduced to dots, the irises made up of tiny green and black and blue pinpoints that yielded no emotion, no message or signal or content of any kind. It was a look men could not disengage from; at the same time, it made them wonder why they had ever gotten involved with her.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I need to tell you something. I’ve never told this to anyone else.”
“Say it.”
“When you tried to make up to Ruby years ago, when she was living in Denver, she wrote you back and telegrammed you. I read the messages and destroyed them. You thought she didn’t want you back. It wasn’t true, but I made you believe it was.”
“I have a hard time accepting that, Maggie.”
“It’s what happened. You want coffee? I have some on the stove.”
“No, I don’t want coffee. Why did you do that?”
“It seemed like the right thing at the time. I was your wife, she wasn’t. I ruined a large part of y’all’s lives, particularly Ishmael’s. You have bad judgment when it comes to women, Hack. Except for Ruby. I have to give it to her.”
He looked at the blood stippled on her dress, the scratches next to her eyes. “If I had taken care of my obligations and been more a decent man, we wouldn’t have these problems. It’s not your fault.”
“Watch out for the DeMolay woman. She’s in business with Arnold. They’re shipping German rifles to South America.”
“I didn’t think she’d do something like that.”
“You think you’re a dissolute drunk. The truth is, you’re a rube. I’m not doing well with this. Get out of here, Hack.”
“Doing well with what? The attack? Your feelings?”
“It could have been different. I did it my way, and now I get to live with it. So long, Big Bud. Look me up if Ruby throws you out.”
Those were the last words he ever heard from the lips of Maggie Bassett.
HE GOT INTO the backseat of the car and sat with his hands on his knees, his face empty, rain dripping off his hat brim. Andre turned in the front seat and looked at him; Darl was at the wheel, watching him in the rearview mirror.
“A couple of Beckman’s men were here,” Hackberry said. “She’s not in real good shape right now.”
“What’d they do?” Darl said.
“Somebody marked her up. She says it was Beckman’s people.”
“You don’t believe her?” Darl asked.
“I think if they’d tried, they’d be dead. Andre, is Miss Beatrice cutting an arms deal with Beckman?”