“All right, then. Thanks, Lydell.”
Strange slipped his cell into its holster on his side. In his rearview, he saw Quinn walking up Warder, two cups of coffee in his hands.
Strange reached over and opened the passenger door. Quinn dropped onto the seat and handed Strange one of the cups.
“Thank you, buddy,” said Strange.
“I know you like to sip water on a surveillance.”
“Coffee makes me pee.”
“But you’re gonna need the caffeine to make up for all the food we haven’t eaten today.”
“I forgot all about it. Not like me to forget being hungry.”
Quinn chin-nodded up the street. “Which one is it?”
“Third one down from the corner there. Only one has a porch got nothin’ on it. There, see?”
“They show themselves yet?”
“No. But I expect, they got any brains at all, they’re staying inside.”
“What about the one Lamar saw?”
“Charles White. His Toyota’s not out here. Maybe Lamar’s right about that boy leaving town.” Strange sipped his coffee. “How’s that girl, man?”
“Bad,” said Quinn.
Quinn described what he had seen, and how he had kept what he knew from the police. Strange told Quinn that he had spoken to Lydell Blue, and that he had kept everything from his friend as well. He told Quinn that the police seemed very close to finding the killers. He told Quinn what he had in mind.
“So you’re just giving up on those boys,” said Quinn. “No possible hope, ever, is that what you’re sayin’?”
“For them? That’s right.”
“You can call the MPD in now if you want to. End it right here.”
“You think that would end it?”
“There’s no death penalty in the District, if that’s what you mean. But they’d do long time. They’d get twenty- five, thirty years. Maybe on a good day they’d get life.”
“And what would that do? Give those boys a bed and three squares a day, when Joe Wilder’s lying cold in the ground? Joe’s gonna be dead forever, man—”
“Derek, I know.”
“Then you’re gonna read in the paper how the police solved the murder. The big lie. Can’t no murder ever be
“You telling me, Derek? Or are you trying to convince yourself?”
“A little bit of both, I guess.”
“You do this,” said Quinn, “you lose everything. You believe in God, Derek, I know you do. How you gonna reconcile this with your faith?”
“Haven’t figured that one out yet. But I will.”
Quinn nodded slowly. “Well, you’re on your own.”
“You don’t want any part of it, huh?”
“It’s your decision,” said Quinn. “Anyway, I’ve got something I’ve got to do tonight myself.”
Strange looked Quinn over carefully. “You’re goin’ after that pimp.”
“I have to.”
“It’s not just what he did to the girl, is it? That pimp tried to punk you out.”
“Like you said: It’s a little bit of both.”
“Sure it is.” Strange smiled sadly. “Shit’s older than time, man. Garfield Potter killed Joe Wilder ’cause he thought Joe’s uncle disrespected him on a hundred-dollar debt. Now I’m gonna do what I think I have to, my idea of making it right. And all of it started ’cause this boy Potter thought he got took for bad.”
Quinn finished his coffee and dropped the cup on the floor. “I gotta go.”
“Go ahead, then. But don’t forget your gun. It’s under the seat there.”
“I won’t need it.”
“Neither will I.”
“I better leave it. Can’t be carrying it around town now, can I?”
“Plus, you wouldn’t feel right, would you, to have any kind of drop on that pimp?”
“That’s not it.”
