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?”
