“Were you there?” she said. “Behind another potted palm or something? Teddy said he looked at Lucy’s stuff. He said it wasn’t up to Global standard. But Lucy claimed Teddy stole one of his shirts. I said that was nuts, we—the studio—manufacture zillions of them, why would Teddy steal one? Lucy threatened to make a scene right there, and I hate being humiliated in public that way. I had him thrown out. And then I felt terrible. I did, Father Lou, I really did. I called him and apologized and invited him up to my hotel for lunch. We talked and talked and he said one of the shirts he’d made really was missing. I couldn’t get him to let it drop, so I told him I’d mention it to Alex, but really I thought one of his workers must have stolen it; it’s the kind of thing people take.”

“Yes, that is possible,” Father Lou said. “What did you say to this woman Alex or to your boss?”

She knit her fingers. “I didn’t see how I could say anything to Teddy. He’d already assured me he didn’t have the shirt. He said something horrible about Lucy, anyway, and I had to remind him that I’m Mexican, too. But I told Alex and she said to stop fussing about it, if Lucy was missing a shirt she’d send him one. But of course that wasn’t the point.”

“What was so special about his shirts?” I asked. “The fabric? The picture?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” she said, spreading her hands again. “I think Lucy was upset because Global didn’t give him the contract, and it distorted his judgment.”

“Where does Global make its spin–offs—shirts and dolls and whatnot?” I asked.

“I’ve never asked. All over, I suppose.”

“Third World countries? America?”

She shook her head impatiently. “I don’t know.”

“You collect the royalties, but you don’t ask for fear of what they’ll tell you?” I said.

“I’ve sat here long enough with you thinking I’m a cockroach in the sink.” She uncoiled her legs and sprang out of the chair. “I’m out of here.”

Father Lou reached the door ahead of her and barred her way. “You can leave in a minute, Magdalena. I’m glad you came tonight. I think you’ll sleep better, having told the truth, as I’m sure you’ve done.

“We’re having the funeral mass tomorrow,” he added, when she didn’t say anything. “I expect you to be there. It will be at eleven. Lucy left his sister’s children provided for—he had a life–insurance policy—but they could use another bit of cash to pay their school fees. And it would be a graceful gesture if you gave a scholarship to the school in his memory.”