House of the Rising Sun (Hackberry Holland 4)

“Who are you?” Ishmael said.

“It’s just me.”

“Jeff?”

“One and the same. I got good news for you. I’m fixing a hot meal for you, too.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Jeff picked up Ishmael’s feet and cut the rope that bound his ankles. “Believe me, you’ll develop an appetite. I can rustle up a pan of brains and eggs that’ll break your heart. Come on, boy, rise and shine. Let’s get you out of this damn hole in the ground.”

RUBY’S HEART LEAPED when she heard the knock on her hotel door. Oh, please, please, please let it be Ishmael and Hack, she prayed. She could almost see through the wood door, both of them grinning, standing side by side, their bodies filling the doorway, the men who had been the center of her life and the only real family she had ever had. She threw open the door.

The woman standing in front of her did not smile. She wore a dark purple velvet dress and a straw hat with a pale blue ribbon and veils wrapped around the crown. She was holding a dome-shaped package wrapped in white butcher paper. Had it possessed an odor, Ruby would have thought it a Thanksgiving turkey.

“I’m Beatrice DeMolay, Miss Dansen,” the woman said. “Perhaps Hackberry has spoken of me.”

“I know who you are, all right,” Ruby replied. “I know how you made your money, too.”

“I have something for Hackberry. I went to his room, but he wasn’t there. I sent my driver to protect him, but Andre hasn’t called. I’m a bit worried.”

“We don’t need you to worry about us.”

“Evidently, you don’t approve of me,” Beatrice DeMolay said.

“I’ve known the young girls who end up in the kinds of places you operate.”

“And where would they be if my places hadn’t been there?”

“Peddle your justifications somewhere else, please.”

“Where is Mr. Holland?”

“None of your business.”

“It is my business, Miss Dansen. Mr. Holland was born in another era and thinks the old ways still work. As a consequence, his enemies use his virtues against him. Where is he?”

“He was going to Arnold Beckman’s.”

Beatrice DeMolay’s eyes were recessed, the color of coal; the bones in her face seemed to harden inside her skin. “I knew he would do it. I also knew that no one around him would try to stop him.”

“Why didn’t you?” Ruby said.

“Because I entered into a situation that is very complicated and could send me to prison. I’m not going to discuss this with you in the hallway. I’m also a bit tired of dealing with the indignation of people I’m trying to help.”

Ruby hesitated. “I don’t trust you.”

“Then I’m going.”

“No, come in,” Ruby said, stepping aside.

Beatrice DeMolay walked past her to the window and looked down into the street. “You need to be aware of some things, Miss Dansen. The desk clerk downstairs works for Beckman. So do some of the police officials. There is hardly anything in this city that Beckman doesn’t control. He also owns United States senators and congressmen and state attorneys and the wardens of penitentiaries. The only thing that can undo him is to use his own corrupt system against him. What is Mr. Holland planning to do at Beckman’s?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“That is really stupid. He’s undoing everything I’ve done.”

“What is it you’ve done? I don’t see it. All I see is an angry woman who’s been a lifelong tool of capitalists.”