Джордж Пелеканос: The Sweet Forever

Rogers nodded, his hands fidgeting in his lap. Murphy noticed the cut on Rogers’s neck.

“Who cut you, Alan?”

“Ain’t nothin’. Got it a little while ago at Real Right.”

“Yeah? How’d that meeting turn out?”

“Clay and the rest of them, they schooled us, man.”

“Had no doubt that they would.”

“Clay knows about you and Tutt. Said something about Tyrell’s sold-out cops back there.”

“Figured he’d get onto it sooner or later.” Murphy reached across Rogers and opened his door. “Time to go.”

“Where you headed now?”

“Got one more stop to make. Then I’m headin’ uptown to meet Tutt.”

“Murphy?”

“Go on, boy. You’ll do fine.”

Alan Rogers got out of the Trans Am and jogged across U street to his car. Murphy watched him drive away.

Karras and Clay stood behind the cashier’s counter, drinking a couple of beers. Tate and Adamson had each downed a bottle and gone home.

“Marcus?”

“What?”

“Look who’s comin’ our way.”

Clay watched Kevin Murphy walk toward the front door.

“Don’t think I want to see him right now,” said Clay.

“You heard what Donna said about him.”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe we ought to let him in, see what he has to say.”

“All right, Dimitri. Go ahead.”

Karras walked to the door, turned the key in the lock. He stepped aside and let Murphy pass. Murphy nodded at Karras and went straight to the counter, where Clay stood up straight.

“Marcus.”

“Murphy.” Clay looked him over. “What you doin’ here?”

“Came by to give you somethin’.” Murphy glanced over at Karras.

“You can talk free,” said Clay. “He knows all about you, man. Matter of fact, I was just talkin’ about you to your boss Tyrell. Tellin’ him how I didn’t want to see his pocket-cops around here anymore. I meant it, too.”

Murphy did not respond.

“Donna called us a little while ago,” said Karras. “Said you took the money. You told her you were going to trade it for Eddie’s life.”

“That’s what I said.”

“She also said you gave her five grand out of the twenty-five.”

“That’s right.”

“Your boss ain’t gonna like that you gave the five away,” said Clay.

“Wasn’t just the five. I went and gave the rest of it away, too.”

“So now you got nothin’,” said Clay. “How you gonna make a trade with air?”

“Figure it out when I get there, I guess.”

“Just you?”

“Convinced Alan Rogers to come over to my side. And Tutt.”

“What, you gonna tell me that Tutt’s found religion, too?”

“No. But he’s gonna be there with me just the same.”

“They’ve got guns.”

“We’ve got guns, too.”

“Ain’t you done enough damage, Murphy?”

“I have. Now I’m lookin’ to make some kind of peace with what I’ve done.”

“What I ought to do,” said Clay, “is call the real police soon as you leave, get them out to that house right quick. Let you ease your conscience some other way than how you’re fixin’ to.”

“You won’t do that, though.”

“No?”

“You told me earlier that you’d give me the rest of the day to sort things out.”

“That was before I knew who you were.”

“You gave me your word, Marcus. It means somethin’ to you.”

Murphy reached behind him, pulled the envelope from his back pocket. He handed it to Clay, who read the writing on the front.

“George Dozier? What’s this got to do with George?”

“Just put it in his hands. That’s all I’m askin’. You’ll do that for me, right?”

Clay and Murphy locked eyes.

“Thanks, Marcus.”

“Ain’t no thing.”

“I best be goin’,” said Murphy.

“Kevin,” said Clay.

But Murphy turned and left the store. They watched him pass beneath a streetlamp. They heard the Trans Am’s engine come to life.

“Kind of hard on him, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was.”

Karras opened the last two Heinekens and put one in Clay’s hand.

“Cheers, Marcus.”

“Cheers?” said Clay. “Right.”

Karras did some paperwork in the office while Clay paced around the store, moving records from one bin to another and back again. When Clay could stand that no longer, he went to the back room and dropped the letter on the desk in front of Karras.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about Murphy, Dimitri.”

“I hear you. I been workin’ on the same purchase order and not gettin’ anywhere for the last half hour.” Karras rested his pen on the desk. “What do you think’s gonna happen to him?”

“You heard the man. He went to make his peace.”

“With a gun?”

“That’s one way.”

“Ah, shit.” Karras ran a hand through his hair. “Look, you know where he’s goin’, right?”

“Yeah. Your boy McGinnes gave me Tyrell’s address. Got it written down here somewhere.”

“Call George, Marcus.”

“Mitri, I don’t even know what’s in that letter.”

“Read it, then.”

“That letter’s sealed, man.”

Karras picked up the envelope and tore it open. “Here.”

Clay unfolded the letter. Karras watched his face as he read it.

“Come on, Marcus, what’s it say?”

“It’s a confession. Murphy implicates himself and Tutt as willing employees of Tyrell’s drug operation. Puts the finger on Short Man for the murder of Wesley Meadows and James Willets.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

Clay looked up. “Guess I’m gonna have to go ahead and break my word.”

Clay picked up the phone and dialed. Karras listened to him tell George Dozier about a couple of rogue cops who were taking it upon themselves to arrest the killers of Chief Meadows and P-Square Willets, holed up in a house in PG County.

“It’s goin’ down now, George,” said Clay, and he gave Dozier the address. He cradled the phone.

“Didn’t hear you mention the part about Murphy and Tutt bein’ on Tyrell’s payroll.”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

“Gettin’ forgetful in your old age, Marcus.”

“Yeah,” said Clay, tearing up the letter and dropping the pieces in the trash. “And clumsy, too.”

Clay began to punch another number into the phone’s grid.

“Who you callin’ now?” said Karras.

“Elaine,” said Clay. “Murphy’s gonna need a good lawyer, he makes it out alive.”

Kevin Murphy curbed the Trans Am at Colorado and Longfellow and killed its engine. He got out of the car and crossed the street. The Bronco was idling out front of O’Grady’s. Murphy showed the last stack of bills to Tutt through the driver’s-side window. Tutt nodded. Murphy dropped the pillowcase in the back of the Ford, came back, and got in the passenger seat.

“Ready, partner?” said Tutt.

“Yeah. Let’s move.”

They took 14th Street downtown, turned left on Florida Avenue, went past Gallaudet College and Trinidad, and drove east.

Murphy told Tutt about Bennet and Linney as they hit Benning Road.

Tutt said, “That’s a damn shame.”

The Bronco rolled onto the Allen and Benning Bridges. Murphy cranked his window a quarter turn, the air crisp on his face. The moon reflected pearl off the Anacostia River below.

“What’s so funny?” said Tutt.

“How’s that?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Was I? Didn’t mean to be. Just thinkin’ back on somethin’.”

“Must be a good memory.”

“There was this time when I was a boy, I went with this girl to her house. Older girl, used to tease the young boys in the neighborhood. Afterwards, my father found out and made me go to our reverend, tell him what we’d done.”