George Pelecanos: Right as Rain

'We goin' to that Greek joint for breakfast?' said Lionel.

'Billy's closed today,' said Strange. 'It's his Easter Sunday.'

'I was gonna make a nice turkey,' said Janine. 'Will you come over for dinner?'

'Was thinkin' I'd take Greco for a long walk down in Rock Creek,' said Strange. 'But yeah, I'd love to come over for dinner, long as it's early. Need to spend the evening with my mom.'

'We'll have it early, then,' said Janine. 'See you around five?'

'Lookin' forward to it, Janine.'

He kissed her there, in a cluster of azalea bushes planted beside the church.

'Look at y'all,' said Lionel. 'In front of God, too.'

Strange walked to his Caddy, parked on Tuckerman. Along the curb, on the other side of the street, sat a gray Plymouth K-car. Leona Wilson had opened the passenger door for her daughter, Sondra, who was ducking her head to get inside. Strange caught a quick look at Sondra, still thin and shapeless in her dress, her hair salon done and shoulder length, her eyes bright and a bit unfocused. Not there, but getting there, Strange could see.

As Strange crossed the street to greet Leona Wilson, Terry Quinn's face flashed in his mind. He hadn't seen Quinn or spoken to him for quite some time.

Leona Wilson walked around the K-car to the driver's-side door, stopping as she saw Strange approach. For a moment she didn't seem to recognize him, dressed as he was, but then she smiled at the broad-shouldered, handsome man in the pinstriped suit. She reached out with a white-gloved hand and cocked her head.

'Mrs Wilson,' said Strange.

'Mr Strange.'

Strange sat behind the wheel of his Cadillac Brougham, parked on Bonifant Street in Silver Spring. Greco was snoring, lying on his red pillow on the backseat. Strange and the dog both had a bellyful of Janine's cooking inside them, and Greco had taken the opportunity to nap.

Across the street, Terry Quinn locked the front door of the bookstore, checked it, and turned to go up the sidewalk.

Strange leaned his head out the window. 'Hey, Terry!'

Quinn found the source of the voice and smiled. He crossed the street and walked toward the car. Strange thought that Quinn had lost weight but realized that it was the hair that had given him that mistaken impression; Quinn had cut it short.

'Get in for a minute, man,' said Strange.

Quinn went around the Caddy and dropped into the passenger seat. Greco woke, sat up, and smelled the back of Quinn's neck as Quinn and Strange shook hands.

'Derek.'

'Terry.'

'What brings you out this way?'

'Was thinking of you, is all,' said Strange. 'And look at you, all cleancut.'

'Yeah. Went down to this barbershop on Georgia, Elegant and Proud?'

'I know that joint.'

'They didn't look too happy to see me in there. But all I wanted was a close cut, and they gave it to me. Anyway, it feels good to get rid of all that hair.'

'You look like a cop again.'

'I know.' Quinn thumbed his lip. 'You said you were thinkin' of me. Why?'

'Well, we're friends, for one.'

'We're friends now, huh?'

'Sure.'

'What else?'

'I saw Leona and Sondra Wilson today, at church.'

Quinn nodded. 'How's the girl doin'?'

'You know what that road's like. Once you're in, you're in forever. Always gonna be a struggle. But her mother got her into one of the city's best programs. She'll make it, I expect.'

'You did good.'

'So did you.' Strange looked over at Quinn. 'Chris Wilson got a commendation. They did a quiet kind of ceremony, but he got it. And they put his name up on that wall.'

'I heard about it,' said Quinn. 'The department didn't get the press involved in it, but word reached me from inside.'

'Yeah, the department's played the press pretty good on this whole thing. But what else they gonna do? They don't have all the answers their own selves. They've got Franklin's confession, and the conflicting forensic evidence from the scene, and Kane's self-serving testimony. They know there's more, but they can't seem to get to it.'

'They didn't get anything out of you and me.'

'No.' Strange studied Quinn. 'You're lookin' better.'

'I'm doin' all right.'

'You out of that funk you were in?'

'I guess I am,' said Quinn. 'You said that someday I'd learn to walk away from a fight. Maybe I'm getting to that place.'

'I guess, workin' in that bookstore over there, with Lewis and all them, you have plenty of time for meditation.'

'Yeah, Derek, I've got nothin' but time.'

'I was thinkin', you know, there are special instances when I could use another operative. You did some pretty good work with me, man. I was wonderin', would you ever consider taking on a case for me, now and again?'

'While you do the light work?'

'Funny.'

'What about Ron Lattimer?'

'This time of year, Ron's busy pickin' out his spring wardrobe and shit. Haven't seen him much the last week or so.'

'I don't have an investigator's license.'

'Easy enough to get one.'

'I'll think about it, okay?'

'Sure, do that. With all that time you got… to think.'

Greco licked Quinn's neck. Quinn turned in his seat and scratched the boxer behind his ears.

'You seein' a woman?' said Strange.

'Nobody special. How's Janine?'

'She's good. Just left her and Lionel.'

'Spending a lot of time with her, huh?'

Strange nodded. 'Finally woke up. Was always lookin' for someone else… chasing after women who didn't care nothin' for me, even goin' after that anonymous kind of sex-'

'Hookers, you mean.'

'Yeah. Always lookin' for somethin' else, when the best thing was right next to me, staring me right in the face. Just like my mother always said. Not that I'm thinkin' of getting married or anything like that. But I do plan to be there, for her and the boy.'

'Tell her I said hey.'

'I will.'

Quinn looked at his watch. 'I better be goin'.'

'Me too. Where's your car at?'

'I didn't bring it.'

'You need a lift back to your place?'

'No, thanks. I think I'll walk.'

Quinn reached for the door handle. Strange put a hand on Quinn's arm.

Terry.

'What?'

'I just want you to know, in light of how all this ended up, I mean… I wanted you to know that I was wrong about you, man.'

Quinn smiled sadly. 'You were wrong about some things, Derek. But not everything.'

Quinn stepped out of the car. Strange watched him cross the street in the gathering darkness.

Terry Quinn walked up Bonifant and cut left on Georgia Avenue. The street lamps and window lights glowed faintly in the cool dusk. As Quinn went down Georgia, a group of four young black men in baggy clothing approached on the sidewalk from the opposite direction. They split apart, seeing that Quinn was not going to step aside. One of the young men bumped him lightly on the arm, and Quinn gave him an elbow as he went by.

I lied to Strange, thought Quinn. I'm lying to myself. I am never going to change. I am never going to walk away.

Quinn heard laughter from the group and he kept walking, past Rosita's without looking through its window, then left into the breezeway, where he patted the head of the bronze Norman Lane bust as he went on into the alley. He took the alley south.

Quinn crossed Silver Spring Avenue and continued through the alley to Sligo Avenue, then across to Selim and along the Napa auto parts shop and the My-Le pho house and foreign-car garages that faced the railroad and Metro tracks. Then he was on the pedestrian bridge spanning Georgia Avenue, and on the other side of it he jumped the chain-link fence and went past the commuter station and down the steps into the lighted foot tunnel beneath the tracks.

Quinn walked the wooden platform beside the fence that bordered the Canada Dry bottling plant. He turned, his hands dug in the pockets of his jeans, and watched the close approach of a northbound train.