“I miss him, too,” said Strange.
He watched Lamar cross the courtyard, pushing on a rusted swing as he walked past the set. Strange thought about the description that Lamar had just given him: the white car, and the kid with the long nose. Juarez, the ice-cream-parlor employee, had described the Plymouth’s driver as having a nose “like a beak.”
Strange had the strong suspicion that this was not a coincidence. He knew he should phone Lydell Blue right now and give him the information he had just received. But he had already decided to keep Lamar’s story to himself.
Strange was not proud of his decision, but he had to be honest with himself now. He was hoping to find the murderers of Joe Wilder before they were picked up by the police. He knew that if these little pieces were coming to him, a private cop, it would not be long before the police, fully mobilized, would have suspects in custody. He was wondering how much time he had before they took the killers in. Wondering, too, what he would do to them if he found them first.
STRANGE hit the heavy bag in his basement, showered and dressed, fed Greco, and locked down his row house. He drove uptown toward the District line. In his rearview he thought he saw a red car, vaguely familiar, staying with him but keeping back a full block at all times. The next time he checked on the car, up around Morris Miller’s liquor store, it was gone, and Strange relaxed in his seat.
The events of the past week had elevated his sense of street paranoia. People living in certain sections of the city, Strange knew, felt the fear of walking under this kind of emotional sword every day. But he didn’t like to succumb to it himself.
Strange parked on Sligo Avenue. As he was crossing the street, the beeper on his hip sounded, and he checked the numbered readout: Janine. He clipped the beeper back onto his belt.
Strange walked into Renzo’s, an unbeautiful neighborhood beer garden in downtown Silver Spring. Renzo’s housed a straight-line bar, stools along a mirrored wall, a pool table, and keno monitors. Bars like this one were common in Baltimore, Philly, and Pittsburgh, but rare around D.C. Quinn sat on a bar stool, reading a paperback and nursing a bottle of Bud in the low light. A heavyset guy in a flannel shirt, a guy in camouflage pants, and several keno players, huffing cigarettes, sat with him along the stick. The bartender was a woman, nearly featureless in the low light, wearing a Nighthawks T-shirt and jeans. Smoke hung heavy in the air.
Strange got up on a stool next to Quinn. He ordered a Heineken from the tender.
“From a bottle,” said Strange. “And I don’t need a glass.”
“This is you,” said Quinn, producing a record album he had propped up at his feet.
Strange took it and studied the cover. He smiled at the photograph of Al Green decked out in a white suit, white turtleneck, and white stacks, sitting in a white cane chair against a white background. A green hanging plant and a green potted plant, along with the singer’s rich chocolate skin, gave the cover its color. It looked like Al was wearing dark green socks, too, though some argued that the socks were black.
“I’m Still in Love With You.”
“You don’t have to say it,” said Quinn. “It’s understood.”
“Al freaks called this ‘The White Album,’” said Strange, ignoring Quinn. “Has ‘Simply Beautiful’ on it, too.”
“You don’t have it, do you? I thought it might be one of those you lost in that house flood you had.”
“I did lose the vinyl, you’re right. I own the CD, but the CD’s got no bottom.”
“Funny thing is, it came in with this carton of seventies rock, a lot of hard blues-metal and also weird stuff some pot smoker had to be listening to. I found Al Green filed alphabetically, after Gentle Giant and Gong.”
“Herb smokers used to listen to Al, too. People used to listen to all sorts of music then, wasn’t no barriers set up like it is now. Young man like you, you missed it. Was a real good time.”
“I think you might have mentioned that to me before. Anyway, I’m glad you like it.”
“Thank you, buddy.”
“It’s all right.”
Strange and Quinn tapped bottles. Strange then filled Quinn in on the ongoing investigation. He told him about the Caprice in the parking lot and the white car and its occupants that had rolled up on Lamar Williams. He told him about Lydell Blue’s list.
“You get up with Joe’s mother,” said Quinn, “she might be able to narrow down the number of names for us.”
“I called Sandra a couple of times and left messages,” said Strange. “She hasn’t got back to me yet.”
They discussed the case further. Strange drank two beers to Quinn’s one. Quinn watched Strange close his eyes as he took a deep pull from the bottle.
“Janine’s been trying to get up with you,” said Quinn.
“Yeah?”
“She called me at the bookstore, said she’s been beeping you. Something about finding the last piece of the puzzle on Calhoun Tucker.”
Strange drank off some of his beer. “I’ll have to see what that’s about.”
“What’s goin’ on between you two?”
“Why, she say somethin’ was?”
“Only that you’ve been avoiding her this week. Outside of work stuff, she hasn’t been able to get through to you at all.”
“I’m not sure I’m right for her right now, you want the truth. Her or Lionel. When I get like this… Ah, forget it.” Strange signaled the bartender.
“You’re not done with that one yet,” said Quinn, nodding to the bottle in front of Strange.
“I will be soon. But thanks for pointing it out.” Strange’s elbow slipped off the bar. “At least you’re doin’ all right with Sue. Seems like a good woman. Looks good, too.”
“Yeah, she’s cool. I’m lucky I found her. But Derek, I’m talkin’ about you.”
“Look, man, everything’s been boiling up inside me, with Joe’s death and all. I know I haven’t been dealing with it right.”
“Nobody knows how to deal with it. When a kid dies like that, you look around you and the things you thought were in order, your beliefs, God, whatever… nothing makes sense. I’ve been fucked up about it myself. We all have.”
Strange didn’t say anything for a while. And then he said, “I should’ve let him run that play.”
“What?”
“Forty-four Belly. He wanted to run it in at the end of the game. Boy never did get to run that touchdown play, the whole time he played for us. He would’ve scored that day, too, ’cause he had the fire. Can you imagine how happy that would’ve made him, Terry?”
Strange’s eyes had filled. A tear threatened to break loose. Quinn handed him a bar napkin. Strange used it to wipe his face.
Quinn noticed that the guy in the flannel shirt was staring at Strange.
“You want somethin’?” said Quinn.
“No,” said the guy, who quickly looked away.
“I didn’t think you did,” said Quinn.
“Settle down, Terry. I’d be starin’, too. Grown man, actin’ like a baby.” Strange balled up the napkin and dropped it in an ashtray. “Anyway. It’s all water passed now, isn’t it?”
“You did right,” said Quinn, “telling Joe not to run up that score. You were teaching him the right thing.”
“I don’t know about that. I don’t know. I thought he had a whole lifetime of touchdown runs ahead of him. Out here, though, every day could be, like, a last chance. Not just for the kids. For you and me, too.”
“You can’t think like that.”
“But I do. And it’s selfish of me, man, I know. Plain selfish.”
“What is?”
Strange stared at his fingers peeling the label of the bottle of beer. “These feelings I been having. About my own mortality, man. Selfish of me to be thinkin’ on it, when a boy died before he even got started and I been fortunate enough to live as long as I have.”
“Men are always thinking about their mortality,” said Quinn. He sipped his beer and pla
ced the bottle softly on the bar. “Shit, man, death and sex, we think about it all the time. It’s why we do all the stupid things we do.”
“You’re right. Every time I start thinkin’ on my age, or that I’m bound to die, I start thinking about getting some strange. Makes me want to run away from Janine and Lionel and any kind of responsibility. It’s always been like that with me. Like having a different woman’s gonna put off death, if only for a little while.”
“You need to be runnin’ to those people, Derek. The ones who love you, man. Not to those girls down at those massage parlors-”
“Aw, here we go.”
“Just because they don’t walk the street doesn’t make ’em any different than streetwalkers. Those girls ain’t nothin’ but hookers, man.”
“For real?”
“I’m serious. Look, I’ve been with whores. So I’m not looking down on you for this. Just about every man I know has been with ’em, even if it was just a rite-of-passage thing. But what I’ve been seeing lately-”
“Your girl Sue got you converted, huh? Now you got religion and seen the light.”
“No, not me. But it’s wrong.”
“Terry, these ladies I see, they got to make a living same as anyone else.”
“You think that’s what they want to be doing with their lives? Putting their hands on a man’s dick they got no feelings for? Letting a stranger touch their privates? Shit, Derek, these Asian girls in those places, they’ve been brought over here and forced into that life to pay off some kind of a debt. It’s like slavery.”
“Nah, man, don’t even go there. White man starts talkin’ about, It’s like slavery, I do not want to hear it.”
“Ignore it if you want to,” said Quinn. “But that’s exactly what it’s like.”
“I got to relieve myself, man,” said Strange. “Where’s the bathroom at in this place?”
Quinn drank the rest of his beer while Strange went to the men’s room. When Strange returned, Quinn noticed that he had washed his face. Strange did not get back on his stool. He placed one hand on the bar for support.
“Well, I better get on out of here.”
“Yeah, I need to also. I’m seeing Sue tonight.”
Strange withdrew his wallet from his back pocket. Quinn put his hand on Strange’s forearm.
“I got it.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Strange picked up his album and put it under his arm. “And thanks again for this.”
“My pleasure.”
“Monday morning, I plan on getting started on that list Lydell slipped our way. You with me?”
“You know it. Derek-”
“What?”
“Call Janine.”
Strange nodded. He shook Quinn’s hand and pushed away from the bar, unsteady on his feet. Quinn watched him go.
chapter 21
STRANGE stopped by Morris Miller’s and bought a six. He opened one as he hit Alaska Avenue and drank it while driving south on 16th. Dusk had come. He didn’t know where he was headed. He kept driving and found himself on Mount Pleasant Street. He parked and went into the Raven, a quiet old bar he liked, not too different from Renzo’s, to get himself off the road. There, seated in a booth against the wall, he drank another beer.
When he came out he was half drunk, and the sky was dark. He said “hola” to a Latino he passed on the sidewalk and the man just laughed. Strange’s beeper sounded. He scanned the readout and looked for a pay phone. He had brought his cell with him, but he didn’t know where it was. Maybe in the car. He didn’t care to use it anyhow. He knew of a pay phone up near Sportsman’s Liquors, run by the Vondas brothers. He liked those guys, liked to talk with them about sports. But their store would be closed this time of night.
Strange walked in that direction, found the phone, and dropped a quarter and a dime in the slot. He waited for an answer as men stood on the sidewalk around him talking and laughing and drinking from cans inside paper bags.
“Janine. Derek here.”
“Where are you?”
“Calling from the street. Somewhere down here… Mount Pleasant.”
“I been trying to get up with you.”
“All right, then, here I am. What’ve you got?”
“You sound drunk, Derek.”
“I had one or two. What’ve you got?”
“Calhoun Tucker. You know how I been trying to finish out checking on his employment record? I finally got the word on that job he had with Strong Services, down in Portsmouth? They were no longer operating, so I was having trouble pinpointing the nature of the business-”
“C’mon, Janine, get to it.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line. Strange knew he had been short with her. He knew she was losing patience with him, rightfully so. Still, he kept on.
“Janine, just tell me what you found.”
“Strong Services was an investigative agency. They specialized in rooting out employee theft. He worked undercover in clubs, trying to find employees who were stealing from the registers, like that. Which is how he moved on into the promotion business, I would guess. But my point is, at one time, Tucker was a private cop. He might have done other forms of investigation as well.”
“I get it. So now that completes his background check. Anything else?”
There was another block of silence. “No, that’s it.”
“Good work.”
“Am I going to see you tonight, Derek?”
“I don’t think so, baby. It’d be better for both of us if I was alone tonight, I think. Tell Lionel… Janine?”
Somewhere in there Strange thought he’d heard a click. Now there was a dial tone. The line was dead.
Strange stood on the sidewalk, the sounds of cars braking and honking and Spanish voices around him. He hung the receiver back in its cradle. He walked back down toward the Raven and tried to remember where he had parked his car.
STRANGE parked in the alley behind the Chinese place on I Street and got out of his Caddy. The heroin addict who hustled the alley, a longtime junkie named Sam, stepped out of the shadows and approached Strange.
“All right, then,” said Sam.
“All right. Keep an eye on it. I’ll get you on the way out.”
Sam nodded. Strange went in the back door, through the hall and the beaded curtains, and had a seat at a deuce. He ordered Singapore-style noodles and a Tsingtao from the mama-san who ran the place, and when she served his beer she pointed to a young woman who was standing back behind the register and said, “You like?”
Strange said, “Yes.”
HE walked out into the alley. He had showered and he had come, but he was not refreshed or invigorated. He was drunk and confused, angry at himself and sad.
A cherry red Audi S4 was parked behind his Cadillac. A man stood beside the Audi, his arms folded, his eyes hard on Strange. Strange recognized him as Calhoun Tucker. He was taller, more handsome, and younger looking up close than he had appeared to be through Strange’s binoculars and the lens of his AE-1.
“Where’s Sam at?” said Strange.
“You mean the old man? He took a stroll. I doubled what you were payin’ him to look after your car.”
“Money always cures loyalty.”
“Especially to someone got a jones. One thing I learned in the investigation business early on.”
Tucker unfolded his arms and walked slowly toward Strange. He stopped a few feet away.
Strange kept his posture and held his ground. “How’d you get onto me?”
“You talked to a girl down in a club on Twelfth.”
“The bartender.”
“Right. You left her your card. She was mad at me the day she spoke to you. She ain’t mad at me no more.”
The alley was quiet. A street lamp hummed nearby.
“You’ve been easy to tail, Strange. Especially easy to follow today. All that drinkin’ you been doing.”
“What do you want?”
“You got a nice busine
ss. Nice woman, too. And that boy she’s got, he seems clean-cut, doesn’t look like no knucklehead. Living up there on Quintana. You spend the night there once in a while, don’t you?”
“You’ve been tailing me awhile.”
“Yeah. Let me ask you somethin’: Does your woman know you get your pleasure down here with these hos like you do?”
Strange narrowed his eyes. “I asked you what you wanted.”
“All right, then, I’ll get to it. Won’t take up much of your time. Just wanted to tell you one thing.”
“Go ahead.”
Tucker looked around the alley. When he looked back at Strange, his eyes had softened.
“I love Alisha Hastings. I love her deep.”
“I don’t blame you. She’s a fine young lady. From a real good family, too. You got yourself a piece of gold right there. Somethin’ you should’ve thought of when you were runnin’ around on her.”
“I think of her all the time. And I plan to be good to her. To take care of her on the financial tip and be there for her emotionally, too. This is the woman who is gonna be the mother of my children, Strange.”
“You got a funny way of preparin’ for it.”
“Look at yourself, man. Is it you who should be judging me?”
Strange said nothing.
“I’m a young man,” said Tucker. “I am young and I have not taken that vow yet and until I do I am gonna freak. Because I am only gonna be this young and this free one time. But, you got to understand, that ceremony is gonna mean somethin’ to me. I saw a bond between my mother and my father that couldn’t be broken, and it set an example for me. For my brothers and sisters, too. I know what it means. But for now, I’m just out here having fun.”
“George Hastings is a friend of mine.”
“Then be a friend to him. I’m lookin’ you in the eye and telling you, there is nobody out here who is going to love and respect his daughter, for life, like I know I am going to do.”
“I can only report your history and what I’ve seen.”
“You’re not listening to me, Strange. Hear me and think about what I’m telling you. I love that girl. I love her fierce enough to make me do something I don’t care to do. You want to take me down, fine. But you’re gonna go right down with me.”
Hell To Pay Page 19
