“Of course.” She grabbed a piece of scrap paper and started to draw. “By the way, stick with the Bass Ale. That Guinness stuff is really nasty.”

Loving peered down at the fifteen-year-old girl. “And how would you know, may I ask?”

Judy winked as she handed him the map she had drawn. “Oh, I get around. I’m very worldly.”

The White Swan was, as advertised, the spitting image of a British pub. The walls bore a dark wood finish, decorated with pictures of soccer matches and fox hunts. The dining room was furnished with cozy little round tables, all laden with bottles of vinegar and HP Sauce.

Loving passed quickly through the restaurant area to the real center of action. The bar was a big brass affair, imported from a Manchester saloon dating back to the 1870s, according to a plaque on the wall. The room was packed and then some; almost all the seats were taken, and at least twenty more people were standing. The room was thick with smoke, the only drawback from the otherwise charming image. Loving didn’t like to admit it, because it didn’t go with his rough-and-tumble rep, but he hated smoking. He didn’t do it (anymore), and he didn’t like to be around people who did. For that matter, he wasn’t that crazy about bars. There had been a time… but why think about that? He’d made a whole new life for himself since he linked up with the Skipper. It was a good arrangement, because it had come at the right time and Loving liked and needed it.

He grinned. And Ben sure as hell needed him.

Well, he was burning daylight. He took a deep breath and plunged into the smoky fray. The sacrifices I make for the Skipper, he mused, not for the first time.

He saw several people he believed were members of St. Benedict’s. Some he recognized from the wedding, some not. And he saw at least a dozen strong young men wearing matching jerseys-a soccer team, if he wasn’t mistaken. And in the far corner, sitting by himself, was Alvin Greene.

Against all odds, there was an empty chair at his table. Apparently no one wanted to sit with Alvin this evening. After taking a look at the glum expression on the man’s face, Loving could see why.

Loving introduced himself. Alvin didn’t seem exactly pleased to see him, but he didn’t chase him off, either. When you worked for an attorney, that was almost as good as an engraved invitation.

“Look like you’ve seen better days,” Loving observed. Not exactly a probing question, but Loving conducted interviews a little differently than the Skipper-especially when they took place in bars. If he could loosen the guy up a bit, both verbally and liquidly, he was far more likely to get some useful information. “Money problems?”

Alvin looked up slightly. “How’d you know?”

“Aww, you’ve just got that look on your face.” That, plus he read Ben’s report on what he’d overheard at choir practice. “I’ve been there.”

“Yeah?” This time Alvin ’s eyes remained off the table. “I never thought it would happen to me.”

“It’ll get better. It always does.”

“Well, it sure as hell couldn’t get much worse.”

“Laid off?” Loving asked.

Alvin nodded. “Two months ago. And I’ve got three daughters and a son to support. Lost my wife to cancer a year back. Now one daughter needs braces, the other wants to go to Mexico for spring break, the boy wrecked his car…” He waved his hand in the air. “I just can’t stand it.”

“Got any prospects?”

“Not really. I came over from St. John’s so I could fill this bookkeeper vacancy. It pays a little, but I need a real job or I’m going straight down the tubes.”

“Can you borrow?”

“Who’d lend money to me?”

“I know a guy,” Loving answered. “Downtown. Mark Sloan. He’s a good ol’ boy. We’re not talkin’ Mafioso or usury rates. He’s a straight shooter. And he likes to help good people who’ve just gotten themselves into a little trouble. I could put in a good word for you, if you want.”

“Really?” Alvin sat up straight for the first time. “Man, that’d be great. I don’t need much. Just something to get me through the next few months.”

“I’ll call my friend first thing in the morning. I’ll bet you can work somethin’ out.”

Loving scribbled an address on the back of a napkin and Alvin took it. “Man, I didn’t think there was a chance anyone would ever loan me money again.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, I just… I don’t know…”

“ ’Cause you still owe Ernestine Rupert?”

Alvin ’s alcohol-impaired eyes seemed to gain their focus. “How do you know about that?”

“Hey, I’m an investigator. It’s what I do.”

“I didn’t think anyone knew about that. Except Ernestine, of course.”

“So she loaned you some money, and now she’s callin’ in your marker?”

Alvin hesitated a moment. “Something like that.”

“The old bat leanin’ on you pretty hard?”

Alvin wiped his hand across his forehead. “Like you wouldn’t believe. She’s done everything but send out some boys to break my thumbs.”

“Sounds miserable.”

“It is. Especially now, on top of everything else.”

Loving waved at the bartender. A minute later, two pints of Bass Ale were headed their way. “You’re talkin’ about all the trouble at the church, right?”

Alvin took a deep swallow. “Yeah.”

“What’s your take on the murders?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Well, at least he didn’t immediately blame Father Beale, like every other witness to whom Loving had spoken. “You know anybody who’d have any reason to kill those women?”

“No, I don’t. I can’t imagine. It doesn’t make any sense. Kate was a lovely woman. Lovely. We went out a few times, after my wife died. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah. And you probably don’t believe it, now that you’ve heard. A beautiful woman like that going out with a homunculus like me? Doesn’t seem right, does it?”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

Alvin waved it away. “Don’t bother. I know what I am. They were probably more pity dates than anything. Still… a man can’t help but hope… even if he knows how unlikely it is.” His eyes seemed to drift somewhere far away from the bar. “She let me kiss her, the last time. Only on the cheek. But still…”

“You musta been pretty torn up when she was killed.”

His eyes remained fixed. “You could say that. Yeah.”

“What about the other woman? Helen Conrad.”

“Aw, I never dated her. She was married.”

Loving almost smiled. “Do you know anyone who might’ve had a reason to kill her?”

“No. Makes no sense to me.”

Loving would have to agree with him on that score, but he’d seen some strange things in the time he’d been working at the Kincaid factory. “So you don’t think the murders had anything to do with the church?”

“Oh, I never said that.”

“But then why-?”

Alvin seemed to withdraw back into himself. “I told you. I don’t know.”

“ Alvin…”

“Don’t hassle me.”

“ Alvin, you know somethin’. Somethin’ you’re not telling me.”

“I don’t. I don’t know who the killer is.”

“But you know somethin’! What is it?”

Alvin glanced back over one shoulder, then the other. “I’ve already said too much.”

What the hell was going on here? “Gimme a hint, Alvin. Is it about some religious thing? Abortion? Evolution?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

Alvin looked away. “I can’t tell you. It’s… secret.”

“Secret? Churches aren’t s’posed to have secrets!”

Alvin scoffed. “Don’t be naive. All churches have secrets.”

“They don’t all have murders!”

Alvin pulled out his wallet and tossed some bills onto the table. “I have to go. I’ve said too much already.”

Loving held out his arm to block the man’s passage. “If you think I’m going to let you tease me and then just disappear, you’ve got another think coming.”

“Let me pass.”

“I can get your butt subpoenaed.”

“Won’t matter. I won’t say anything.”