“You got a name?”
“I got one. But I got no reason to give it to you.”
“I know where Devra lives,” said Strange, realizing it was childish the moment the words left his mouth. “I’ll just go over there now.”
“You mean you ain’t gone yet?”
Strange left the shop, muttering something about a tough-ass bitch under his breath.
He heard the old man in the chair chuckle as he headed toward the parking lot. Strange stopped walking, stared at the old man for a second, then relaxed as he saw the friendly amusement in the old man’s eyes.
“Little old girl stonewalled you, right?”
“That’s a fact,” said Strange.
“You a bill collector? ’Cause if you are, you ain’t gonna get nary a penny out of Inez Brown.”
“I can see that. She the owner of that shop?”
The old man dragged the last life out of his cigarette and dropped it to the concrete. He ground the butt out with the sole of his black leather shoe as he shook his head.
“Drug dealer owns that shop,” said the old man.
“You know his name?”
The old man continued to shake his head, smoke clouding around his weathered face. “Big boy, wears jewelry. Got this ring that covers his whole hand. Has silver teeth, too. It ain’t unusual for his kind to put money into these places. Those young boys like to hang out where the young ladies do.”
Strange nodded slowly. “Can’t blame them for that.”
“No. You can blame ’em for a lot, but not for that.”
“You have a good one,” said Strange.
“Gonna be hot today,” said the old man. “Hot.”
Back in the Caprice, Strange eyeballed Quinn, who was outside the grocery store, his face close to the face of a young man, both of their mouths working furiously. Even from the distance, Strange could see that vein bulging on the left side of Quinn’s forehead, the one that emerged when he got hot.
Strange found what he was looking for in the small spiral notebook by his side. He phoned Janine and asked her to run the plate numbers from the Mercedes that had tailed him the day before. He had her look into any priors on an Inez Brown, and he gave her the address of the salon and its name so that she could check on who it was, exactly, who held its lease.
“Anything else?” said Janine.
“I got some shirts hangin’ back in my office, need some cleaning.”
“Thanks for the opportunity to serve you. You want those shirts pressed, too?”
“Not too much starch, baby.”
“When you need ’em by?”
“Yesterday.”
“Consider it done. Now, maybe you got something else you want to say to me.”
“You mean about how much I appreciate all your good work?”
“Thought you were just gonna imply it.”
“You don’t give me a chance, all that sarcasm.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“I do appreciate you. Matter of fact, you’re the backbone of my everything. And I’ve been thinkin’ about you, you know, the other way, too. Haven’t been able to get you out of my mind all day.”
“For real?”
“I wouldn’t lie.”
“You’ll be home for dinner, right?”
“I’ll call you. Me and Terry were gonna stop and have a couple beers.”
“Let me know.”
“I will.”
“I love you, too, Derek.”
Strange picked up Quinn outside the grocery store. They drove out of the lot.
“Everything all right back there?” said Strange.
“Yeah. Guy was wondering how he could join the Terry Quinn fan club. I was, like, giving him the membership requirements. How about you?”
“Well, Tattoo’s sister wasn’t no help. But I did find out a thing or two.”
“Must have been that quality detective work you’re always going on about.”
“Not really. Old man I never even met just went and volunteered all sorts of shit.”
“Good day at Black Rock,” said Quinn.
“It happens once in a while,” said Strange. “I didn’t even have to ask.”
Devra Stokes lived off Good Hope Road in an apartment complex where “Drug-Free Zone” signs were posted on a black wrought-iron fence. Strange pulled into the lot and cut the engine.
“You coming?” said Strange.
“I’m not really into the Free Granville Oliver movement,” said Quinn. “So I think I’ll hang, you don’t mind.”
“I’ll leave the keys,” said Strange, “case you want to listen to some of my music.”
“You got that one about lame men walkin’?”
“It’s in the glove box. Help yourself.”
Quinn watched Strange cross the lot and disappear into a dark stairwell.
JUWAN Stokes sat on the floor of Devra Stokes’s apartment, playing with some action figures, while Strange and Stokes sat at the dining-room table. The apartment, filled with old furniture and new electronics, was in disarray and smelled of marijuana resin and nicotine. Devra apologized, explaining that her roommate, a young woman who worked in another salon, had recently brought an inconsiderate, no-account man into the place against Devra’s wishes. This man was unemployed, liked to burn smoke and drink at all hours, and was responsible for the mess.
“Not too good for the boy, I expect,” said Strange.
“We’re looking to get out.” As she said it, she looked out the apartment’s large window.
“I can help you, short-term.”
“How you gonna do that?”
“Defense has witness relocation capabilities, same as the prosecution.”
“Like Witness Protection?”
“Not really. You don’t change your name, and you don’t have anybody looking after you. Basically, they have funds set aside that can get you into a place, an apartment like this one, in another part of town.”
“The Section Eights, right?”
“Sometimes.”
“I’m not movin’ Juwan into no Section Eights.”
“Maybe we can do better than that. We can try.” Strange leaned forward. “Look, I think you know things that would help out our case. You were with Phil Wood back when the murder of Granville’s uncle went down. Phil must have talked to you about it then.”
“He talked about a lot of things,” said Devra. “But listen, Phil and Granville and their kind, all of ’em been into some serious shit. None of them’s innocent. This is the Lord, now, giving them their due. I don’t want to get in the way of that. I don’t want to be involved.”
“I can subpoena you, Devra.”
“Nah, hold up.” Devra Stokes raised one hand and her lovely eyes lost their light. “I
