“Tell her what she wants to know,” Corky said crankily. “You all knew she was a snoop before she drove up.”

“I’m looking for a man named Lucas Monroe,” I said.

They looked at one another blankly, all except Corky. He was studying us.

“You might know him as the Professor,” I added.

“The Prof,” Corky said.

“The Prof?” Blue said. “You looking for a black dude?”

I nodded. The cigarettes came out of Rachel’s pocket, but she didn’t extend the pack.

“Corky knows the Prof real well,” Blue added.

The pack made the rounds again.

“Now Rachel, don’t get mad at me,” Corky said. “This is the God’s truth. The Prof isn’t around much anymore. He got religion or something. He’s living at that new shelter, going to AA and the whole bit.”

“Hell, Corky, you haven’t told me a thing I didn’t already know,” she said.

“How could I know what you do and don’t know already? What am I, woman, a mind reader?”

She gave him a look that made him bundle up tighter in his worn fatigue jacket.

“He hasn’t been to the shelter for a few days,” I said. “He missed his curfew on Thursday night, and hasn’t been back since. Have you seen him in the last three or four days?”

Corky shook his head. “Any of you seen him?” he asked the others.

Solemn head shaking.

“Before he cleaned up,” I asked, “where did he sleep?”

“Buses, mostly,” Corky said. “Sometimes he stayed in one of the old hotels.”

“Which hotels?” Rachel asked.

“The Hyatt and the Hilton.” It brought out a round of laughter from the others.

When Rachel and I didn’t join in on the joke, he scowled. “How do you know the Prof?” he asked me.

“I was his student once.”

“The Prof was a real prof?” Blue asked.

“He taught at Las Piernas College,” I said. “I ran into him at a bus stop one day. A friend at the shelter told me he might be looking for me.”

“Wait a minute,” Corky said. “You the reporter?”

“Yes.”

The others stepped back again.

“Aw, relax,” Corky told them. He turned back to me. “You’re not here to do a story on any of us, right?”

“Right. Just want to find Lucas-the Prof. Did he mention me to you?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Saw you when he was sleeping one off on a bus bench. That was before he went on the wagon.” He paused, a distant look coming over his face for a moment. “Twenty.”

“Give me a break,” Rachel said. “I could start an auction right here among your pals and do better than that.”

After some arguing with the others, Corky said, “If you fellows don’t learn to stand your ground, others will continue to take advantage of your misfortune.”

“Cork it, Corky,” Blue said, then turned to Rachel. “The minute he starts talking like that, he knows he’s beat. He’ll tell you for fifteen.”

Rachel looked to Corky, who scowled, then reached out a filthy hand.

“Oh no, let’s hear it first.”

“Prof said he knew some reporter on theExpress. Said one day he was going to go see her, tell her his story. Said it would be big news.”

“That’s worth zero to me,” Rachel said, “unless you know what this big story was.”

Corky got a speculative look in his eye.

“Don’t even bother making something up,” Rachel said.

Corky looked resigned. “Nah, he didn’t give away a lot, even when he’d been drinking. Christ, Rachel, give a man a break.”

“We’ve been talking to people all day. They tell us you’re his buddy, the one he hangs out with.”

“Used to. Until he sobered up,” Corky said.

“Tell me where he stayed when he wasn’t sober.”

“Prof likes the Coronet, the Sunset Arms, the Angelus, the Piccadilly,” Corky said. “He likes the tall ones, the upper floors. Used to make me climb all those damned stairs with him.”

“Those hotels are all condemned,” I said.

Corky laughed. “Right. Never have to worry about them having a vacancy.”

“It’s a start,” Rachel said, and gave over the fifteen bucks. Corky quickly stashed it inside his fatigue jacket.

“Have any of you seen him at one of these places in the last few days?” I asked.

Another round of head shaking.

I was noting the names of the hotels when I heard Rachel ask, “Who else has been looking for him?”

Complete silence. I looked up to see them shifting uneasily.

“Ten bucks,” Rachel said.

No takers.

“Five bucks each,” I said. Rachel rolled her eyes.

The others looked at Corky. “All right, all right,” Corky grumbled. “But I better not find myself standing up against him alone.”

“Ain’t we stood by you so far, Corky?” Blue said. “I’m not scared of tellin’ her.” He turned to Rachel. “There’s this one guy-name of Two Toes. Used to call him Holler. You know him?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure,” she said.

“Won’t be no pleasure. Guy’s a 5150. Nuttier than a damned fruitcake. Makes up weird poetry, talks all kinds of religious stuff. And he’s a real knucklehead to boot. Used to call him Holler ’cause that’s all he does, day-in and day-out-hollers at people. He was always hassling Corky, but the Prof made him lay off.”

“Long as he could, anyway,” Corky muttered.

“That’s right,” Blue said. “Two Toes punched the Prof a good one a little while back.” He pretended to wallop himself on the cheek, complete with sound effects. “Pow! Old Prof swelled up like a damned chipmunk.” He laughed a little, then slanted a glance my way and grew quiet.

“When was that?” I asked.

“Not too long before he sobered up, I’d guess,” Corky said. “Few weeks ago.”

“Where’d Two Toes get the new nickname?” Rachel asked.

“Cut off two of his own toes,” Corky said.

“And ate them!” Blue said.

“I don’t believe that,” Corky said, looking as if he did.

“He’s been looking for Lucas? For the Prof?” I asked.

“Always. Thinks the Prof’s ring is magic,” Beans said.

“His college ring?”

“Yeah,” Corky said with a wheezy laugh. “I told him if it was magic, it would have been from my alma mater, not some lousy place like Las Piernas College.”

“Your alma mater?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, UCLA. And if you’re a Trojan, I’ll just thank you to keep your mouth shut.”

The others stared at him. He looked down at his pair of stained Adidas, as if suddenly embarrassed. I began to despair of getting any further information from him.

“Where’s that five bucks?” Blue asked.

No one paid any attention to him. We were watching Corky.

When at last he looked up at me, his eyes were hard. “Keep your lousy five bucks.”

“He don’t mean it,” Blue said, but I was watching Corky walk away.

“Corky and Prof were good friends,” Rooster said. “Prof only hung around with the rest of us because he liked to talk to Corky.”

There was a lot of nodding on this point.

“Where can I find Two Toes?” Rachel asked, as I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of fives.

“It’s Sunday,” Blue said, not taking his eyes off the cash. “He’ll be out in front of St. A’s.”

“St. Anthony’s?” I asked.

He nodded. “He stays on his knees in front of that statue out front. Can’t miss him. He’s a big guy with a crazy kind of hat on, and a big beard. He’s been Catholic the last few Sundays. Better catch him before he turns Baptist or something. And watch out for them fists of his.”

ST. ANTHONY’S IS A BEAUTIFULold Catholic church. I like it better than my old parish church, which-after redecorating-went so ultramodern that I feel like I’m on the set of a cheap science-fiction film every time I set foot in it. (Which is admittedly so rare, it could have changed back to something more traditional since the last time I was there.)

But St. Anthony’s has stained-glass windows, mosaics covering the walls and parts of the ceiling, marble on the altar, and all sorts of alcoves and nooks and crannies with statuary and candles and holy water. If you’re the kind of Catholic who knows what it is to own a calendar with red fish printed on the Fridays, then St. Anthony’s is your kind of place.