“Yes, I belong to them, and they to me, and we can never be alien to each other, even if you like USC. So let me talk to the woman, huh?”
“What woman?”
“Friend, listen, it’s only facts I’m after. Crucial facts. They affect a man’s life.”
“You know, I once talked to a lawyer and got my can shot off. In a manner of speaking. It was during my divorce. I tried to be honest and I got killed for it, so why don’t you just pack up and—”
The door opened and Sister Mary walked in. I thought of this as just a distraction, but then the guy behind the counter said, “Welcome, Sister. This is a first.”
“How do you do?” she said. “I’m Sister Mary Veritas of St. Monica’s.”
“Cool!” He said. “I’ve been up there for a retreat with some men from our church.”
Church?
“Oh?” Sister Mary said. “Which one is that?”
“St. Sebastian.”
“Monsignor Murphy, is he still there?”
“Yeah! You know him?”
“We’ve met a couple of times.”
“Well, I am so happy to have you here,” the guy said. “Are you here to do some shooting?”
I looked back and forth between them.
“Not today,” Sister Mary said, “though I’d really like to learn sometime.”
“You’re very wise,” USC said. “The way hate crimes are these days. It would be my great pleasure to offer you lessons, gratis, anytime you like.”
“How thoughtful.”
I said, “Are we almost finished here?”
USC flashed a look. “You, you can go now.”
“He’s with me,” Sister Mary said.
“He is?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” she said.
“He says he’s a lawyer.”
“Even harder to believe, huh?”
Sister Mary and the guy shared a laugh. Then the nun said, “We’re defending a man accused of murder, and it’s very important to establish that he was here on a certain date, and our client said that a woman who works here with tattoos on her arm—”
“Christa,” the guy said.
I just stared at him.
“Is she here?” Sister Mary said.
“Yeah,” he said. “Up on number two. I’ll give her a call.”
76
CHRISTA DID HAVE tats, a floral arrangement with a gun motif, and hair just like Eric said she had. She was wearing a red T-shirt over a compact figure, denim cut-offs, and mid-calf black lace-up boots. She looked like she expected trouble and was ready to give it back.
She looked at Sister Mary. “What’d I do now?” she said with a forced smile. “Am I in trouble with God?”
“No trouble,” I said. “My name’s Buchanan and this is Sister Mary Veritas, my associate.”
Christa looked at USC. He shrugged.
“It’s not an ordinary pairing,” I said, “but whoever thought Martin and Lewis would get together.”
“Who?” Christa said.
USC said, “You don’t know Martin and Lewis?”
“No, should I?”
“They don’t teach these kids history anymore,” USC said to me. To Christa he said, “They were big explorers back in the old days.”
There was a pause in the room as education took a turn for the worse. I decided not to correct the record.
I said, “I wonder if you could take a look at this photo and tell me if you recognize this guy.”
I showed her the picture of Eric that Kate gave me.
“He looks familiar,” Christa said.
“He’s a big guy,” I said. “Six-five and wide. He would have been with his brother, same size.”
“Oh yeah! I got it now. They were big all right. I remember thinking you’d need an elephant gun to take ’em down.”
“Do you remember when this was?”
She looked up, as if trying to remember. “I don’t know. Couple months ago, maybe.”
“This would have been around the end of January. His name is Eric Richess, his brother’s name was Carl.”
“Was?”
“He’s dead.”
“Bummer. How?”
“Would you have a sign-in book or some sort of record?”
Christa put a hand on her hip. “What’s this about?”
“I’m representing Eric Richess. He’s on trial. And I need to confirm he and his brother were here.”
“So wait a second. Your guy killed his own brother?”
I shook my head. “He’s accused, that’s all, and I’m looking for the truth. And you can help me.”
USC said, “Let’s check the records.”
Christa shot him a nine-millimeter look.
USC spread his arms in a What’s wrong? gesture.
“Will I have to testify?” Christa said.
“I’d like you to,” I said.
“Cool! Will it be on TV?”
“Probably not.”
“Will there be one of those guys who draws the pictures?”
“You never know.”
“Close enough,” she said. “Okay, Andy, let’s check the records.”
They did. The records were in a black binder, loose-leaf. She opened the January tab and I looked at the ledger of names with them. She found it. Carl Richess