“Just have a little trust, sir," Hawes said.
Carella placed the call to the archdiocese four-fifteen that afternoon.
The man who the phone identified himself as Archbishop Quentin's secretary and told him that His Emine was out at the moment but perhaps he could be assistance. Carella told him this had to do with murder he was investigating... "Oh, dear.”
"Yes, the murder of the priest up here...”
"Ah, yes.”
"Father Michael Birney.”
"Yes.”
"And I'm calling because I'm trying to locate sister, but there's no answer at the number I...”
"His Eminence has already taken care of the secretary said.
"Taken care of what?”
"Notifying Father Michael's sister.”
"In Japan? How'd he...?”
"Her husband's office number was in our here. His Eminence was able to get the name hotel from Mr. Brogan's secretary, and he Mrs. Brogan there. She'll be here Sunday in time the funeral.”
“Well, good," Carella said. "Would you to know if there are any other relatives? I'd like ,9 "I believe there was only the sister.”
"And you say she'll be here Sunday?”
"She's already on the way, sir.”
"Well, thank you very much.”
"Not at all." Carella put the phone back on the hook.
Already on her way, he thought.
Which meant that whatever had been troubling the good priest would have to wait till Sunday, after all.
The man sitting opposite Marilyn was a white man in his early riffles.
His name was Shad Russell, and he knew why she was here, but he was making his pitch anyway because he figured it never hurt to take a chance. Shad used to be a gambler in Las Vegas before he came East and got himself settled in various other little enterprises. He had a pockmarked face from when he was a little kid, and he had a mustache that looked as if it could use some fertilizer, and he was as thin and as tall as Abraham Lincoln and he thought he had a devastating smile.
Actually, he looked like a crocodile when he smiled.
He was smiling now.
"So old Joe give you my number, huh?" he said.
"Yes," Marilyn said.
"Old Joe Seward," he said, and shook his head.
They were in his room on the second floor old Raleigh Hotel on St.
Sebastian Avenue, where the Warringer Theater used to be. Madl come up here to Diamondback by taxi. She wearing jeans and a leather jacket over a tan sw Her hair was pinned up under a woolen cap. It. one thing for a white woman to go alone exclusively black neighborhood to talk to some Texas pimp had recommended. It was another flashing long blonde hair.
"How is he?" Shad asked.
"I haven't seen him in years," she said.
"How come you know him?”
“He said you could help me find a gun.”
"But that don't answer my question, does.
Shad said, and smiled his crocodile smile. had the sudden feeling that this was going harder than she'd thought.
"If you think I'm a cop or something..." she "No, I..." : "... you can call Joe on my credit card, him to...”
"I already did.”
The crocodile smile.
"Though not on your credit card.”
The smile widening.
"On my own nickel. Right after you hung ask him who this Mary Ann Hollis was that a gun so bad.”
"And what'd he tell you?”
“He told me you used to work for him it musta eight, nine years ago. When you were still in He said you used to have a piano-man pimp there in Houston, but he got himself stabbed in i.bar, which was when Joe come into your life. He told me you got busted at the ripe old age of and that he paid the five-bill fine and let walk away from his stable' cause you asked him and he happens to be a gent. So no, I'm not you're fuzz.”
"Then why are you asking me things you already W?”
"I wanted to see if you'd lie.”
"I would've.”
"I figured. Why you need this piece?”
"Some people are bothering me.”
"You going to shoot these people?”
"If I have to.”
"And then what?”
"Then what what?" i. "Who do you tell where you got the piece.
"Not even my priest," Marilyn said.
, I'll just bet you got a priest," Shad said, smiled the crocodile smile again. "You still in same line of work?”
“
bad. "Cause I could maybe find some major for somebody like you." s, I'm not looking for any major..." really major...”
"... or even minor ones. I need a gun. Can you me one? If not, adi6s.”
"Think about the other for a minute.”
"Not even for a second.”
"Think about it," he said, and smiled. "Is any harm thinking about it?”
"Yes, there is.”
"Who you gonna shoot with this gun?”
"That''s none of your business.”
"If the gun comes back to me, then it becomes business.”
"It won't come back to you, don't worry.”
"Are these people pimps? Does this inw prostitution?”
“No. I already told you, I'm not...”
"'Cause I don't want some angry pimp here yellin' one of his cunts tried to...”
“Goodbye, Mr. Russell," Marilyn said, and up, and slung her shoulder bag, and started for door.
"What'd I do?" Shad asked. "Insult you? fuckin' bad. I got my own ass to protect here. I want no gun of mine involved in a family You got a quarrel with your old man, go settle it him quiet, you don't need no gun of mine.”
"Thanks, I understand your position. It was meeting you.”
"Look at her. All insulted on her fuckin' hi horse. I hit it right on the head, didn't I? You this gun to dust your pimp.”
"Yep, right on Goodbye, the head.
Mr. Russell.
I'll be sure to tell Joe how helpful you were.”
"Sit down, what's your fuckin' hurry? If this ain't a pimp, then what is it? Dope?”
"No.”
"You say some people are bothering you, what are they bothering you for?
Did you forget to pay them for their cocaine?”
"Do you have a gun for me, or don't you? I don't need this bullshit, I really don't.”
"A gun will cost you," he said.
"How much?”
"It's a shame you ain't in the trade these days," he said, and smiled the crocodile smile. "'Cause I have this very major Colombian merchant who'll be here in the city this weekend, I'm sure we could work out some kind'of barter arrange. “
And suddenly he saw what was in Marilyn's eyes.
"All right, all right, all right," he said, "forget it, all right?”
And just as suddenly turned all business.
"What kind of gun did you have in mind?" he asked.
IV
The three who came into the squadroom on morning at the crack of dawn well, at minutes to eight, actually looked either like wandering band of twelfth-century minstrels or gypsy troupe out of Carmen, depending on perspective. The perspective from Cotton desk was sunwashed and somewhat hazy, the li slanting in through open windows to create almost prismatic effect of golden air afloat dancing dust motes. Out of this refracting mass there appeared the tentative trio, causing Hawes blink as if he were witnessing either a mirage or religious miracle.
There were two women and a man.
The man was between and slightly forward of the women, the point of a flying wedge, so to speak, for such it resembled as the three came through the gate in the slatted-rail divider and immediately homed in on the closest desk, which happened to be Hawes's.
perhaps his red hair had served as a beacon. Or perhaps he'd emanated a sense of authority that naturally attracted anyone seeking assistance.
Or perhaps they gravitated toward him because he was the only person in the squadroom at this ungodly hour of the morning.
The man was wearing bright blue polyester trousers and a rugby shin with a white collar and alternating red-and-blue stripes of different widths.