Two bottom-of-the-page paragraphs in theNewark Star-Ledger’s online archive reported the death, two years ago, of Contessa Walls, age thirty-six.
The decedent had been found hanging in an isolation cell at the Edna Mahan Correctional Facility for Women in Clinton, New Jersey. Six years into a ten-year sentence for attempted murder; she’d spent most of that time in the prison’s mental health facility. At the time of her demise, she’d been in isolation due to disruptive behavior but not on suicide watch.
Note was made of a scandal the previous year involving male guards sexually abusing female inmates.
I searched forcontessa walls medina okashand got a single hit. With Okash’s name crossed out, so much for that. But the content gave me a lead.
Online sympathy message posted to the O’Reilly Funeral Home in Newark a week after Walls’s death.
***Contessa Jane Walls. Your life was a challenging one.***
But there was purity in your soul.
I pray that your next life brings you
salvation and the joy you deserve.
*** Emeline Beaumont ***
One woman by that name, living locally.
Sister Emeline Beaumont
Assistant Director
Servants of St. Theresa
Los Angeles, CA 90049
A convent in Bel Air? I looked up the address. Sure enough: the foothills north of Sunset and west of the U.
I went out to Robin’s studio. She had on her full-face safety helmet and overalls. The exhaust fan whirred. A rosewood guitar back was held steady on her bench. Pretty wood but toxic dust. A routing jig Robin had designed and built was clamped perpendicular to the tabletop.
She was busy channeling hair-like layers of multicolored wood binding into place. Delicate work. I held back so as not to distract her. She saw me anyway, flipped up the helmet’s plastic shield, shut off the fan with a foot pedal. “Hi, babe. What time is it?”
“Six forty.”
“I got caught up. Some of this binding is satinwood and it loves to snap. I want to do it in one swoop, avoid irregularities.”
“No prob, I’m going out for a short ride.”
“Where?”
“A convent.”
She smiled. “I won’t ask but at least it’s not a monastery.”
“Want me to pick up dinner?”
“How about fish and loaves? No, I’m fine with leftovers if you are. Big Guy coming over?”
“No plans.”
“Then we’ll definitely have enough. C’mere and give me a kiss.”
CHAPTER
33
