“Help you, miss?” he asked. She shot him a quick cold look like she’d seen Ming do.

“Phone,” she demanded. “Quickly, please.”

“Are you visiting a tenant?” he asked. It didn’t sound quite so pleasant. Damn.

“No, I’m just looking for a telephone, dear.” She tried a smile. “Please.”

He put out an arm to stop her. Just as well, she was heading for another dead-end marble wall; the place was decorated in Early Crypt.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, there are no public telephones here. If you don’t mind—”

At the end of the wall was a discreet little alcove that didn’t have a saint’s statue in it, or a vase full of dead flowers; the gold letters above it said TELEPHONE. Velvet smiled with all her teeth at the security guy, who didn’t smile back.

“Oh, thank you so much for your kindness, I see it right there. Thanks. Won’t be a minute¡” She darted around him and crossed to the alcove. When she looked back he was waiting, staring, ready to mow her down if she tried to pry a piece of marble off the wall or something. She stepped into the alcove and above her a spotlight came on, lighting up the phone. She fed it a quarter and dialed.

“Hello?” Robby sounded dead asleep. Velvet checked her watch. God, it was—almost seven o’clock. Didn’t the woman ever get up?

“Hey, Robby, glad I caught you. Remember how you said to ask if I needed anything?”

Wet smacking sounds on the other end of the phone. Robby was tasting her morning breath, probably squinting at the clock and trying to figure out what century it was.

“Yeah,” she said fuzzily. “Who is this?”

“Velvet. Listen. Want to go to a funeral?”

The church was as hot as hell’s oven, and Velvet was sweating all over her borrowed clothes. She’d found Robby’s only bright-colored blouse—mustard gold—and the most colorful of her skirts—rust—but the shoes were a disaster. They looked like penny loafers. Velvet stared down at them in resentment while the prayer droned on above her head.

“—And we thank you, O Lord, for your blessings and kindness in this, our hour of loss—”

God hadn’t gone out of his way for Burt, that was for damn sure. She shot a sideways look at Robby, who had her head bowed, too. Robby looked dazed with boredom. Well, how should she have looked? She hadn’t been there. She hadn’t seen him.

“—commend the soul of our brother Burt into your loving hands—”

“Are they always this long-winded?” Robby whispered. There was a stress fracture of Irish in her voice.

“Nope. He’s just clearing his throat. Wait’ll he gets to the actual praying.” Velvet grinned, winced when it dragged at a bruise. “You never been in a church before?”

“Not a Protestant church.”