“Uh-uh,” said Strange. “We gotta earn some money.”
They’d been hired by longtime public defender Elaine Clay to gather evidence on a homicide that had occurred in the Washington Highlands area of Southeast. They’d been waiting for the workday to end so that they could interview the mother of the alleged shooter, who by now would be back in her apartment. They were hoping that she could provide a verifiable alibi for her son, one that Clay could take into court. The young man was going to trial in a few weeks.
They left twenty on forty-four. The bald tender scooped the cash up off the bar.
“Leo,” said Stefanos.
Strange and Stefanos walked out onto Georgia Avenue. Strange buttoned his leather blazer and nodded toward his black Cadillac, parked on the street.
“Let’s go, Greek. The clock ticks.”
“What’s your hurry?” said Stefanos.
Strange squinted against the dying light. “We’ve got a case.”
