George Pelecanos: Hell To Pay

“So,” said Strange. “You gonna throw us any more work?”

“I had the impression,” said Tracy, “you didn’t want to get involved with this prostitution thing.”

Strange looked at Quinn, back at Tracy. “Yeah, well, I had some personal issues I had to take care of with regards to that subject. I believe I’ve got it worked out.”

“There’s always work,” said Tracy. “We did get Stella back to her home in Pittsburgh. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“What about the one you snatched away from Wilson?” said Strange.

“Jennifer Marshall. She left home again, and she’s missing. So far, she hasn’t turned up.”

“Gotta make you wonder sometimes, why you keep trying,” said Strange.

“Like you told the kids,” said Tracy. “Live to fight another day.”

“We’re getting a beer, Derek,” said Quinn. “You and Janine want to join us?”

“Thank you,” said Strange. “But I need to get up with her alone on something, you don’t mind.”

“Some other time.”

Strange shook Quinn’s hand. “It was a good season, Terry. Thanks for all your help.”

“We did the best we could.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Looks like I’m picking up a big case, and I might need your help. You gonna be at the bookstore?”

“I’ll be there,” said Quinn.

They watched Strange cross the lot and climb into his Brougham.

“I told Karen, the first time we met him,” said Tracy, “that he was gonna work out fine.”

Quinn put his arms around Tracy, drew her in, and kissed her on the mouth. He held the kiss, then pulled back and touched her cheek.

“What was that for?” said Tracy.

“For being here,” said Quinn. “For sticking around.”

AFTER dropping Prince and Lamar, Strange stopped by Buchanan, going into his house to pick up Greco while Janine waited in the car. They drove up to Missouri Avenue, turned left, and continued on to Military Road. Strange parked in a small lot on the eastern edge of Rock Creek Park.

Strange leashed Greco and the three of them walked onto the Valley Trail, up a rise along the creek. Strange held Janine’s arm and told her about his meeting with Granville Oliver while Greco ran the woods through bars of light. They returned to the car as the weak November sun dropped behind the trees. Greco got onto his red pillow in the backseat and fell asleep.

Strange kept the power on in the car so they could listen to music. He played some seventies soul, and kept it low.

“You going to take the Oliver case?” said Janine.

“I am,” said Strange.

“He represents most everything you’re against.”

“I know he does. But I owe him.”

“For what he did with Potter and them?”

“Not just that. The way I see it, most all the problems we got out here, it’s got to do with a few simple things. There’s straight-up racism, ain’t no gettin’ around it, it goes back hundreds of years. And the straight line connected to that is poverty. Whatever you want to say about that, these are elements that have been out of our hands. But the last thing, taking responsibility for your own, this is something we have the power to do something about. I see it every day and I’m convinced. Kids living with these disadvantages already, they need parents, two parents, to guide them. Granville Oliver was a kid once, too.”

Strange stared through the windshield at the darkening landscape. “What I’m saying is, Oliver, he came out of the gate three steps behind. His mother was a junkie. He never did know his father. And I had something to do with that, Janine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I knew the man,” said Strange. “I killed his father, thirty-two years ago.”

Strange told Janine about his life in the 1960s. He told her about his mother and father, and brother. He recounted his year as a uniformed cop on the streets of D.C., and the fires of April 1968. When he was done, gray had settled on the park.

Strange pushed a cassette tape into the deck. The first quiet notes of Al Green’s “Simply Beautiful” came forward.

“Terry gave me this record,” said Strange. “This here has got to be the prettiest song Al ever recorded.”

“It’s nice,” said Janine, slipping her hand into Strange’s.

“So anyway, that’s my story.”

“That’s why you brought me here?”

“Well, there’s this, too.” Strange pulled a small green jewelry box from his leather and handed it to Janine. “Go on, take a look at it. It’s for you.”

Janine opened the box. A thin gold ring sat inside, a diamond in its center. At Strange’s gesture, she removed the ring and tried it on.

“It was my mother’s,” said Strange. “Gonna be a little big for you, but we can fix that.”

“You planning to ask me something, Derek?”

Strange turned to face her. “Please marry me, Janine. Lionel needs a father. And I need you.”

Janine squeezed his hand, answering with her eyes. They kissed.

Strange kept her hand in his. They sat there quietly in the Cadillac, listening to the song. Strange thought of Janine and of her heart. He thought of Joe Wilder, who had fallen, and of all the kids who were still standing. Outside the windows of the car, the last leaves of autumn drifted down in the dusk.

Deep fall had come to the city. It was Strange’s favorite time of year in D.C.