She stared at the words. How? she wondered, blinking back her tears. How will the meek ever inherit a thing? The men in charge had the system tied up. No matter what she or Max told the authorities, no one would believe them, and the money men would get away with murder. If Max didn’t disappear, she was going to end up in jail. Beatrice was going to leave town. Doris was going to die. Were they the meek? Would God save them? Her eyes fell to Doris’s zippered bag. Do we deserve to be saved?

Beatrice opened the bag.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to a person she’d never met as she pulled the long necklace out and deposited it into the collection box. The earrings were next. Her hand trembled as it lifted the ring from the bag. It was an engagement ring. It had once held someone’s dreams for a bright future.

Beatrice held the ring over the open mouth of the donation box and tried to let go. “Forgive me.”

Moments later, Beatrice hurried back out into the night. She headed north toward Euclid Avenue, only stopping once to look back at three candles flickering in the window.

CHAPTER 65

The cab dropped Beatrice under a big, blue sign that read “The Lancer Motel.” She pulled open the clouded glass door and slipped inside. The lounge was packed from end to end. The swell of the piano, chattering voices, and thick smoke flooded her ears and lungs. She wanted to drown in the sea of faces, but her pale skin and hair were a beacon in the dim light. Head down, she edged her way along the back wall to the bar.

“Have you seen Max?” Beatrice shouted over the din to the man behind the beer taps.

“Who?” he growled, clenching a small cigar between his teeth.

“Maxine McDonnell. Is she here?”

“I don’t know what the hell you talkin’ about. You want to stand there, you gotta order something.”

“Stinger,” she shouted, and took the only empty stool.

A strange man in a black leather hat turned toward her and grinned. His bleary eyes wandered up and down her body, lingering on her aunt’s mink coat. “You lookin’ for somebody, baby?”

“Um, yes. Max? Maxine McDonnell?” she squeaked.

“Heard she left town.” He reached out and stroked the fur. Beatrice shrank against the bar. “How you know Maxie?”

“She’s a friend.” She stood to leave, but the man held on to her coat.

“Where you goin’, baby? We ain’t done talkin’ yet.”

“Leave it alone, Sam, she’s with me,” a gravelly voice said behind her.

It was Ramone. Beatrice gasped in both surprise and utter relief to see the security guard by her side.

“Well, well, Ray-Ray. Looks like you’re movin’ up in the world.” The man in the hat motioned to Beatrice. He blew a cloud of cigar smoke in Ramone’s face, then bared a gold tooth.

Ramone squared his shoulders and offered Beatrice his hand. She grabbed it and slid away from the bar. The man in the hat stared Ramone dead in the eye and let go of her coat.

Ramone pulled her out of the lounge and into a blind alley. He threw down her hand and grabbed her by the shoulders. “What the hell were you doin’ in there? Do you know who you were talkin’ to? Do you know how close you just came to findin’ yourself in a new profession?”

She pressed her back against a brick wall in the alley and shook her head slowly. “Ma . . . Max left me a note.”

“She did?” Ramone let her go. “What did it say? She all right?”

“I don’t know. I found it at my aunt’s place. It told me to get out and said something about the Lancer . . .” Beatrice’s mind trailed off, still reeling about what might have happened if Ramone hadn’t appeared out of nowhere.

“The bitch is crazy!” Ramone shouted up at the starless sky. “I don’t know what the hell she’s thinkin’! This shit has gone too far!”

“What’s gone too far? What has she been doing?” she shouted back. “They say she’s been breaking into the building and sleeping there. They must have found my stuff—I don’t know how. They say she’s been stealing. They’ve called the FBI! Her brother says he can’t help, and no one’s going to believe her.”

Ramone glared at her without saying a word. It only made Beatrice more hysterical.

“I thought we were friends, but she sent me here to be attacked by what? Pimps? Is that what that man was back there? A pimp? Why did he know Max? Why did he know you? Are you some sort of pimp too?” She didn’t care if he was offended. The fact that he had just showed up out of nowhere suddenly seemed too lucky to be a mere coincidence.

“Girl, you don’t know shit, do you? It’s probably why she picked you.”

Beatrice’s jaw dropped; then her mouth clamped shut before a stream of questions could escape. She shoved her freezing hands in her pockets and squeezed the master key to the vault. Max had told Beatrice not to go looking for answers. She said that she’d come for the key when it was all over. But then she sent Beatrice into the Lancer with a frantically scribbled note. Either something must have gone wrong, or Max didn’t think she was stupid.

“Why are you here?” Beatrice demanded.

He lit a cigarette and motioned back to the lounge. “This was our meeting place back in the day. Whenever things were going bad, she’d turn up and find me here. Max was always in some kind of trouble. Probably ’cause she came to places like this. I keep thinking she’ll turn up here again.”

“Has she?”

“Not yet. But she sent you in there for some reason. Maybe she thinks we ought to talk. You know, you’re more like Max than I ever would’ve thought. You’re the only other white girl I’ve seen walk in that place alone.”

Beatrice couldn’t tell if it was an insult or a compliment. “What do you think she’d want us to discuss?”

Ramone stared at the side of the vacant building flanking the alley and sucked his cigarette. “I wish I knew. She stopped talkin’ to me about it and disappeared. She just told me to keep my eyes open. So I’ve been watchin’, man, and the shit don’t make sense. All these new security measures been put in. They doubled the guards, but ain’t no one there at night anymore. They have this new fancy camera system, but the shit is off half the time. The vault’s bein’ left open at odd hours. It’s almost as if they want to be robbed.”

“Were they robbed? Has Max been back at the bank?”

“I keep lookin’. If I get my hands on that girl, I don’t think I’ll ever stop shakin’ her. She’s gone and got herself in a world of shit. She should have listened to me.” He threw his cigarette angrily. “Probably why I ain’t seen her . . .”

Max was avoiding Tony and Ramone. She didn’t want them getting involved. Beatrice swallowed hard. Between the key, her aunt’s apartment being trashed, the hospital being watched, and the FBI, it was too late for her.

“How did they find my suitcase?” She’d been careful to lock it and all traces of herself up in a closet on the eleventh floor.

“Don’t think they did.”

“But they said they’d found evidence.”

“Evidence can mean lots of things, especially when a white man’s talkin’. I’ve been watchin’, and they seem desperate.”

Ramone had been watching for her too, she realized. Maybe he had followed her back to Little Italy. Maybe he’d followed her to the Lancer. Maybe he was hoping she might lead him to Max. What did she really know about Ramone besides the fact that he knew pimps and gangsters and worked security for the bank? She couldn’t trust him or Max. Not anymore.

“I . . . I should go. Thanks for your help back there, Ramone. If you ever see Max again . . . tell her I said good-bye.”

“Where do you think you’re goin’? You can’t just walk home from here, you know. Do you even know where you are?”