George Pelecanos - Hell To Pay

“What else?”

“Huh?”

“I been knowin’ you too long, Derek, and you know I can read your face. There’s somethin’ else, so why don’t you say it?”

“Well, Calhoun Tucker likes the ladies.”

“Course he does. What, you think some faggot’ s gonna be fallin’ in love with my girl?”

“I don’t mean that. I mean, he’s got an eye for ’em.”

“Say what you’re gettin’ at, man.”

Strange looked down at his hands. He had been rubbing them together and he made himself stop.

“I don’t know what I’m getting at exactly, George. I guess… I was wondering, not to get into your business, understand, but I was wondering how it was between you and Linda. The whole time you were married, I mean. Did you ever, you know, stumble? Did you ever find yourself steppin’ out on her or anything like that?”

“Never,” said Hastings. “You know me better than that, Derek.”

“But I remember how you were, back when the two of us were out there. When we were single and coming up, I mean. You had a lot of girlfriends, George. Wasn’t like you ever just stuck to one.”

“Until I met Linda.”

“Right. But you and her were together for like, two years before you put the ring on her finger. How was it for you and other women in that time?”

“Well, naturally, you know, I continued to see other girls while I was dating Linda. I never did consider that to be any kind of sin. But once I made a pledge to her and the Lord in the church, though, that was it. I looked hard at plenty of women, but as far as lyin’ down with someone other than my wife, after I was married? It was never an option for me again.”

“So you don’t see nothin’ wrong with cattin’ around up to the wedding day.”

“Young man’s only gonna be young once. You tellin’ me Calhoun Tucker’s a player?”

If he were to bring it up, now would be the time. But he had been leaning one way already, and this conversation with George had made up his mind. Strange shook his head.

“I guess I strayed off the topic some. To tell you the truth, I was askin’ about it because… because I been having some problems with Janine. I been stumblin’ like that with regards to her, George. Not just once or twice, understand, but as a matter of habit. It came to a head between us last night.”

“Sounds like you need to make some decisions. But you know, Derek, everybody’s got to make those kinds of choices their own selves.”

“I hear you.”

“Anything else about Tucker?”

“Just this: I talked to some people who know him, here in D.C. They told me, to a one, how much he goes on about Alisha all the time, how deep he loves her. Sounds like he’s sincere to me.”

“Who wouldn’t love that girl?”

“True. But I thought you might like to know. Far as what kind of husband he’s gonna be, only thing I can say is, neither one of us is gonna know that until time tells us. Right?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I guess I been wantin’ to find something wrong with that young man. It’s like you told me back in your office: Maybe the only thing wrong with him is that he’s getting ready to take away my little girl.”

“Maybe. Wouldn’t anybody blame you for feeling that way, though. The thing is, you just got to support her decision now and see what happens. Don’t you agree?”

Hastings reached over and shook Strange’s hand.

“Thank you, Derek.”

“I’ll have a written report for you next week.”

“Send a bill along with it.”

“You know I will.”

Hastings removed his Redskins cap and rubbed the top of his head. “Any progress on finding that boy’s killers?”

“It won’t be long,” said Strange. “One way or another, they’ll be got.”

STRANGE walked out the front door of the Hastings residence. Calhoun Tucker’s Audi was parked behind Strange’s Cadillac. Tucker, all Abercrombie & Fitch, leaned against the car. Alisha Hastings was with him, her eyes alight as she followed his every word, both of them beside the waxed Audi parked beneath the fiery colors of an oak. The tableau was like some advertisement for beauty and youth.

“Come here, Mr. Derek,” said Alisha. “I want you to meet someone.”

Strange crossed the lawn and went to the couple. He kept his eyes on Tucker’s as Alisha introduced them to each other. They shook hands.

“I bet you and my daddy were in there watching the game,” said Alisha. “I can’t understand how you two could stay inside and watch television on a beautiful day like this.”

“It’s always a beautiful day when the Redskins win,” said Strange.

“Y’all catching up on old times in there?” said Tucker.

“Just being a friend to my old buddy George.”

“Oh?”

“Been meaning to get by and congratulate him on the engagement of his lovely daughter here. Congratulations to the both of you as well.”

Tucker’s eyes softened. “Thank you, Mr. Strange.”

“Make it Derek.”

They shook again. Strange tightened his grip on Tucker’s hand.

“Good to meet you, young man.”

“You don’t have to worry,” said Tucker, moving in close to Strange’s face.

“See that I don’t,” said Strange, his voice very low. He released Tucker’s hand.

Strange kissed Alisha, hugged her and held her tightly. He kissed her again and walked toward his car.

“What was that about?” said Alisha. “I couldn’t hear what you two were saying, but it looked intense. You two don’t know each other, do you?”

“No. It was nothing. Just, you know, pissin’-contest stuff between men.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m kiddin’ you. He seems like a good guy. He coming to the wedding?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Looking forward to seeing him again is all.”

Tucker flexed his right hand to alleviate the pain. He watched Strange drive away, orange and red leaves rising from the street in the Caddy’s wake.

STRANGE stopped by the house to pick up Greco and a couple of CDs, then drove down to his place of business. In his office, he slipped The Sons of Katie Elder sound track into his CPU as he settled into his chair. The message light blinked beside his phone.

Lydell Blue had called to tell him that the beige Caprice had been found in an impound lot in Prince George’s County. The Chevy was determined to have been a stolen vehicle, wiped down of prints. Clothing fibers, orange threads of a fleece material, found in the Chevy matched those found in the Plymouth driven by the shooters.

Strange was certain now that the boys he had seen in the Caprice idling in Roosevelt’s parking lot were the killers of Lorenze and Joe Wilder. He had caught a look at the driver and especially the boy with the braids, and their faces loosely matched those of the artist’s renderings posted around town.

He knew this. But he didn’t phone Lydell Blue back to tell him what he knew.

Strange got into Westlaw and fed the names Walter Lee, Edward Diggs, and Sequan Hawkins, along with their Social Security numbers, into the program. It took a couple of hours to find what it would have taken Janine a half hour to find. Despite his rudimentary knowledge of the programs, Strange was still old world, and much better at his job when out on the street. He also tended to seek out distractions when he should have been working nonstop behind his desk. In those two hours he played with Greco, thought of Janine, and ate a PayDay bar she had left for him on his mouse pad. But finally he got the information he needed.

Using PeopleFinder and the reverse directory, he had secured the current addresses and phone numbers of the men. Also the names and addresses of their current neighbors. The Social Security numbers had given him their past and present employment data.