“What are your sources saying?” I asked after a moment. “Do they think she was attacked because of her immigrant work?”

“We’re not getting anything off the street about that,” Murray admitted. “The nun in charge of the Freedom Center, a Sister Carolyn Zabinska, says they got death threats back when the Iraq war started—the nuns were opposed to it and started these weekly vigils against it—but no one’s ever threatened them because of their prison or immigrant-aid work.”

He paused. “People are wondering why she was attacked the very night you visited her.”

I lay very still in the bed, eyes closed. “What people? Besides you, of course.”

“Just what I hear around,” Murray said.

“Ever since Global bought the Star, you’ve been more on the entertainment side than the crime beat,” I said, still angry, wanting to prick him as he had me. “So who you hear from doesn’t carry the punch it used to.”

“When have I ever skimped on a story, Warshawski?” Murray was furious now, too. “You on your pedestal, it’s easy to work solo as an investigator, but I have to work for a company if I want to write for a newspaper. And my sources trust me.”

I looked at my wrapped hands and wished I worked for a big company where someone would pick up the slack when I was on the disabled list. “So what are your sources telling you about the perps? Lawrence Avenue was hopping when I rang Sister Frankie’s bell. They all suffer from witness-phobic amnesia?”

I couldn’t see his face through my lenses in the darkened room, but Murray was still breathing hard. He didn’t speak for a long moment, but, despite my nasty accusation, he was a reporter through and through. He wanted my story and knew he had to answer some questions if I was going to talk.

“There are a ton of witnesses to the perps. A Ford Expedition drove up at high speed, honking. Everyone jumped out of the way, and the Expedition pulled up onto the sidewalk. A guy—or maybe a gal, but they’re pretty sure a guy—with a stocking pulled over his head got out, threw the bottles, jumped back in, and the Expedition took off before anyone really realized what was happening.”

“License plate?”

“No one bothered. Or they know and aren’t telling. I’ve heard both stories,” Murray said. “One of my sources says the boys in the alley recognized the SUV and are afraid to admit it for fear of being targeted next. Someone who will fire bomb a nun will pretty much do anything.”

I was quiet for a moment, digesting that. “The FBI and OEM had a stakeout going. Any news out of them?”