in.
"Come on," I told Ralph. "Shoes doesn't know anything."
"Listen to the man," Zapata said. "And, Miss White - " He flicked his finger between Madeleine and Ralph. "Is your family leaning on this loser now? I mean, I knew Mr. White was sick and all, but - "
"Mr. White is not sick," Madeleine said. "He leans on no one."
"So if I was to see Arguello out on the street, without you - "
"I have no interest in whom you kill or who kills you," Madeleine said. "Just remember your place, Zapata - down there by the floorboards with the other insects."
Zapata's eyes glinted, like light off the edge of a scalpel. I doubted a woman had ever talked to him like that before.
He turned to Ralph, crumpled up his taco wrapper. "See you around, Arguello. Having your wife shot - that kind of thing should make a man reexamine his priorities. You still got a baby daughter to think about, don't you?"
I was glad I had Madeleine with me. It took both of us to get Ralph out the door without firing his gun again.
IN THE COURTYARD, MAMA ZAPATA WAS still arguing with Ignacio, whose face was pale and clammy. He looked at us like we'd come to deliver his last meal.
"Done," I told him. "Sorry."
I tried to steer clear of Mama Zapata, but the old woman stepped in front of Madeleine. "I know you. I remember your father."
"Excuse us," Madeleine said.
The old woman grabbed Madeleine's arm. "My son won't tell you, but I don't give a damn. Your brother got what he deserved. Punishment for your father's sins. Entiendes?"
"Get off me," Madeleine said.
The old woman spat in the dust at Madeleine's feet, then allowed a very ill-looking Ignacio to escort her back into her souvenir shop.
THE LIMO DROVE NORTH.
The chauffeur asked us where to. Nobody answered.
Along Roosevelt Avenue, run-down businesses were decorated with frayed Christmas garlands, weather-bleached Santas, grimy lights that had started to glow in the evening. This being South Texas, the Christmas lights stayed up year-round, but even a broken holiday is right once a year.
In the front seat, Ralph cradled his borrowed .38 in his lap. At Ralph's insistence, the chauffeur had anonymously called Ana's hospital and tried to get an update on her condition. They wouldn't tell him anything. Now Ralph was muttering something under his breath. The chauffeur was leaning as far away from him as possible.
I felt like I should say something to Ralph, but I was angry with him. My initial shock was wearing off, and I was starting to realize that he'd almost killed Zapata in front of my eyes. If I hadn't grabbed his arm, he wouldn't have missed.
A few uncomfortable facts were also starting to swirl together in my head: Frankie's reputation with women, Ralph's experience with his stepfathers, what Ralph's sister had said on the phone: You know why he had to help Frankie, don't you?
Ralph has always had a soft spot for abused women. Over the years, he'd gotten several prostitutes away from their pimps. He'd killed at least one wife-beater that I knew of. In fact, the more I thought about Ralph's violent reputation, the more I realized that when he picked the fight, he almost always lashed out at men who abused women. And he did so with no concern for his own safety.
I thought about Ralph's tone the night Frankie had roughed up little Madeleine. He'd had no tolerance for it - so why had he tried to save Frankie when his dad came down on him?
Ralph might have wanted to change Frankie, turn him into something better. But I wondered what Ralph would've done if he realized Frankie was beyond redemption, if he started seeing how many women Frankie had hurt. Ralph would not have been intimidated by Frankie's mob father. For the first time, I wonder if the DNA test on the blood under Frankie's fingernails really had been faked.
Next to me, Madeleine cracked her knuckles.
I figured we'd better find her somebody to beat up soon or she'd start cannibalizing people in the limo.
"What did Mrs. Zapata mean?" I asked her. "What'd your father do?"
Madeleine picked a speck of dust off her slacks. "He's a mobster. Not much he hasn't done."
"I mean to women."
"You must not have been listening. She didn't say anything like that."
At the corner of Santa Rosa, a police car cut across our path on full code three, siren wailing, lights running. I resisted the urge to slink down