earlier, so their precious new mill wouldn’t be threatened.”
The bitterness in her voice makes me want to argue, but she’s right.
“You said half the Poker Club was at this meeting,” she reminds me. “Exactly who was there?”
“Buckman, Donnelly, Sumner, Cash, and Arthur Pine.”
“That’s the old blood, the old Bienville families. Excluding Max shows they’re already worried about him putting them at risk.”
“Buckman stated that explicitly. And leaving out Holland and Russo?”
“Beau’s never gone out of his way to kiss Claude’s ring,” she explains. “Claude hates him. And Claude might know that Beau was involved in Buck’s murder, if he was. Also, Russo’s an outsider. Mob-tainted.”
“Why would Buckman care about that?”
“He probably doesn’t. The Italian heritage is probably more of an issue for Claude. Tell me how they put this to you. They said they’d give you anything you want?”
“Buckman told me to write a Christmas list.”
“Wow. Wait a second.”
My earbuds go empty all of a sudden, and I wonder if I’ve lost my connection. Then Jet says, “Don’t you see? This is our chance.”
“For what?”
“To get away clean! This is how we get custody of Kevin.”
She’s giving me whiplash. “Seriously?”
“Claude Buckman can do it, Marshall, like issuing a royal edict. With Donnelly’s support, nobody would dare cross him. Not even Max. No chancery judge, that’s for sure.”
“Wait. Two minutes ago you said screw the town, crucify them. Now you’re saying cut a deal, but make sure custody of Kevin is at the top of my list?”
“I’m saying take all the good things that Buckman offered the town. But make sure custody of Kevin and a pain-free divorce are included. Everybody wins. The town, Kevin, you and me.”
“And the Poker Club.”
“They always win,” she says irritably. “That’s practically a law of nature. Their ancestors outsmarted the Union army of occupation.”
“What about the video, Jet? Max has a knife to our throats.”
“Tell Claude about the video! He’s a sleazy old man, he’ll get it right away. You tell him to make sure that footage is destroyed, or you’ll nuke that Azure Dragon deal like Kim Jong Un. Claude will make Max eat that video.”
“Jet—”
“I’ve got to go.” Her voice drops to an urgent whisper. “Make it happen, Marshall. Please. We’ve got swords hanging over our heads, hanging by a hair, and Max is holding the scissors. If he shows Paul that video, not even the Poker Club can protect us.”
“You haven’t had any luck stealing Max’s phone?”
“No. Oh—”
“Jet? Jet . . . ?”
She’s gone.
Her breaking off like that leaves me with an image of Paul snatching her burner phone from her hand. She’s right: we can’t live like this any longer. If Buckman can force Max to destroy that video, then maybe I don’t have a choice about whether to accept their offer.
Still, I think, laying down the guitar and walking a circuit of the mound’s flat top. I came out here intending to ask for three opinions, and I still want to hear the third. Before I sell my soul to save my ass, I ought to at least speak to someone whose judgment I respect without qualification. Nadine Sullivan is the most objective person I can afford to speak candidly to about this situation.
Though I’ve used up most of my allotted hour, I text Nadine and ask if she has five minutes to discuss something important. She rings me back thirty seconds later.
“Darryl told me Tim Hayden buttonholed you this morning,” she says. “I’m sorry about that.”
“No, we had a good talk. I missed talking to you this morning.”
“I rode out to Belle Rose and spoke to Tallulah Williams. I wanted to check what Max had said about my mother. I learned some interesting things.”
“Like?”
“Later. You should talk to her, though. She’s seen a lot out there. Anyway . . . what’s going on with you?”
As quickly as I can, I summarize my meeting at the bank. I tell her nothing about Max and his video, of course, but she gets the basic dilemma.
“You know what I think,” Nadine says. “Or you ought to by now.”
“Which is?”
“You go first. What’s your gut telling you to do?”
“Honestly? I’d like to tear the Poker Club apart.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ve ruled this town too long. It’s a deep cancer.”
“Can you honestly say it’s not because you want to be the one to cut it out? You don’t want to break a story that could carry you back into Washington with a bang? Chinese money meets American desperation and corruption, a marriage made in hell?”
“Nadine—”
“I mean