"She was there at the restaurant, sitting at the table with 'em when I got off the phone."

Raymond seemed confused. "You're talking about Hannah?"

"God, Raymond. I just got done sayin' that, didn't I?"

He turned to me. "I thought you met Bibianna in jail. I thought you said you were cellmates."

I started laying cards out like this was no big deal. Seven stacks, first card up, the other six facedown. "I never said that. We got thrown in the slammer together, but I'd met her before that, at a singles bar. I figured she'd told you or I'd have said something myself."

Next round, skip the first pile. The face-up card went on the second pile, the other five facedown. Just playing solitaire here, casual as all get-out. Luis was eavesdropping, being careful not to call attention to himself lest Raymond take off after him.

"What the fuck were you doin' there with her and Jimmy Tate?"

Ah, he'd figured out it was Tate, probably from the description Dawna'd given him of the guy. "I wasn't doing anything. We'd just gone next door for a bite to eat when those two showed up."

"Bibianna was with Jimmy Tate?"

Dawna snorted. "Jesus, Raymond. What's the matter with you? You sound like a parrot." Out of the corner of my eye, I could see how much she was enjoying herself. In her family dynamic, she was probably the kid who puffed up her self-importance by tattling on all her siblings.

Raymond ignored her, focusing on me. "How come you never told me she was with him that night?"

"Jimmy Tate was with me. We ran into Bibianna at the bar and asked her to join us for a bite to eat. What's the big deal?"

"I don't believe it."

I stopped dealing out the cards. "You don't believe me?"

"I think you're lying."

"Wait a minute, Raymond. I've known you all of five days. So how come I'm suddenly accountable to you for my behavior?"

Raymond's eyes were glittering, his voice too soft to suit me. "Dawna says Tate was the one killed my brother. Did you know that?"

Oops. Actually I did know that. I said nothing, wondering why my mouth was suddenly so dry. I couldn't think of an adequate response and for once the glib lie didn't spring that readily to mind.

"Answer me," he said. "Tate killed my brother?"

I picked my way through the possibilities, not wanting to commit myself to a course of action just yet. "I don't know," I said. "When the shooting started, I hit the pavement."

"You didn't see Tate with a gun?"

"Well, I knew Tate had a gun, but I don't know what he did with it because I wasn't looking."

"What about Chago? You knew he was hit. Who you think did that?"