“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
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
