“Yeah?”
“Uh—huh. I read everything today.” Juana looked into the fire. “The police force, it sounds like it’s a mess.”
“It’s pretty bad.”
“All those charges of police brutality. And the cops, they discharge their weapons more times in this town, per capita, than in any city in the country.”
“We got more violent criminals, per capita, than in any city in the country, too.”
“And the lack of training. That large group of recruits from back in the late eighties, the papers said that many of those people were totally, just mentally unqualified to be police officers.”
“A lot of them were unqualified. But not all of them. I was in that group. And I had a degree in criminology. They shouldn’t have hired so many so quick, but they panicked. The Feds wanted some kind of response to the crack epidemic, and putting more officers on the street was the easiest solution. Never mind that the recruits were unqualified, or that the training was deficient. Never mind that our former, pipehead mayor had virtually dismantled the police force and systematically cut its funding during his distinguished administration.”
“You don’t want to go there, do you?”
“Not really.”
“But what about the guns they issued the cops?” said Juana. “They say those automatics —”
“The weapons were fine. You can’t put a five—shot thirty—eight into the hands of a cop these days and tell him to go up against citizens carrying mini TEC—nines and modified full—autos. The Glock Seventeen is a good weapon. I was comfortable with that gun, and I was a good shot. I hadn’t been on the range the official number of times, but I’d take that gun regularly out to the country… . Listen, believe me, I was fully qualified to use it. The weapon was fine.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“You’re thinking, She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Now she’s going to tell me about cops and what’s going on out in the street.”
“I wasn’t thinking that at all,” lied Quinn. “Anyway, we’ve got a new chief. Things are going to get better on the cop side of things, wait and see. It’s the criminal side that I’ve got my doubts about.”
Juana brushed her hand over Quinn’s. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me.”
“I’ve never been with someone who did what you did for a living. I guess I’m trying to, I don’t know, tell myself it’s all right to hang out with a guy like you. I guess I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“That makes two of us,” said Quinn.
She moved closer to him, her shoulder touching his chest. They didn’t say anything for a little while.
And then Quinn said, “I met this man today. Old guy, private investigator. Black guy, used to be a cop, long time ago. I can say that he’s black, right?”
“Oh, please. You’re not one of those people claims he doesn’t see color, are you?”
“Well, I’m not blind.”
“Thank you. I was at a dinner party once, a white girl was describing someone, and her friend said, 'You mean that black guy?’ and the white girl said, 'I don’t know; I don’t remember what color he was.’ She was saying it for my benefit, see, trying to give me the message that she wasn’t 'like that.’ What she didn’t realize was, black people laugh at people like her, and detest people like her, as much as they do flat—out racists. At least with a racist you know where you stand. I found out later, this girl, she lived in a place where you pay a nice premium just so you and your children don’t have to see people of color walking down your street.”
“I hear you,” said Quinn. “I used to live in the basement of this guy’s house in this neighborhood, about a mile or two from where I live now.”
“You mean that nuclear—free bastion of liberal ideals?”
“That one.
“A lot of the people on the street I lived on, they had bumper stickers on their cars, 'Teach Peace,’ 'Celebrate Diversity’ like that. I’d see their little girls walking around with black baby dolls in their toy strollers. But come birthday time, you didn’t see any black children at those little white girls’ parties. None of those children from 'down at the apartments’ nearby. These people really believed, you put a bumper sticker on your Volvo so your neighbors can see it and a black doll in your white kid’s hands, that’s all you have to do.”
“You’re gonna work up a sweat, Tuh—ree.”
“Sorry.” Quinn rubbed at the edge of his lip. “So anyway, I met this old black PI today.
“Yeah? What’d he want?”
Quinn told her about his day. When he came to the Richard Coles part, he told her that he had kept Coles “occupied” in the men’s room while Strange, the old investigator, made his bust.
“You were smiling just then,” said Juana, “you know it? When you were telling that story, I mean.”
“I was?”
“It made you feel right, didn’t it, to be back in it.”
Quinn thought of the swing of the hammer, and the blood. “I guess it did.”
“You like the action,” said Juana. “So why’d you leave the force?”
Quinn nodded. “You’re right. I liked being a cop. And I wasn’t wrong on that shooting. I’d give anything to have not shot Chris Wilson, to have not taken his life. But I was not wrong. They cleared me, Juana. Given all the publicity, though, and some of the internal racial stuff, the accusations, I mean, that came out of it … I felt like the only right thing to do at the time was to walk away.”
“Enough of that,” said Juana, watching the frown return to Quinn’s face. “I didn’t mean to —”
“It’s all right.”
Juana turned to him and placed the flat of her hand on his chest. Quinn slipped his hand around her side.
“I guess this is it,” said Quinn.
Juana laughed, her eyes black and alive. “You’re shaking a little bit, you know it?”
“It’s just because you’re so fucking beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Juana brushed Quinn’s hair back behind his ear. “Well, what are you going to do now?”
“Keep working at the bookstore, I guess, until I figure things out.”
“I mean right now.”
“Kiss you on the mouth?”
“For an educated guy,” said Juana, “you’re a little slow to read the signs.”
“Thought it would be polite to ask,” said Quinn.
“Ask, hell,” said Juana, moving her mouth toward his. “You nearly made me beg.”
Chapter 11
ENTERING his row house, Derek Strange listened to a message from Janine, asking him over for a thrown—together dinner with her and her son, Lionel. She had made “a little too much” chicken, she said, and she didn’t want “all that food to go to waste.”
Strange phoned a woman named Shirley whom he dated from time to time, but Shirley was either not at home or not taking calls. Strange fed Greco and walked him around the block.
When Strange returned he checked his portfolio on the Net while listening to a reissue of Elmer Bernstein’s sound track to Return of the Magnificent Seven. He took a shower and changed into a sport jacket over an open—collared shirt. He phoned another woman and was relieved to find her line busy, as this was not a woman he was anxious to see. His stomach grumbled, and he phoned Janine.
“Baker residence.”
“Derek here.”
“Hello.”
“Got any of that chicken left?”
“I been keeping it warm for you, Derek.”
“Can I bring Greco?” asked Strange.
Janine said, “I’ve got a little something for him, too.”
THEY kissed for a long time, and then Quinn removed his shirt and Juana removed hers. She began to unfasten her black brassiere.
“Can I get that?” said Quinn.
“Sure.”
He had some trouble with the clasp. “Bear with
me.”
She ran her fingers down his veined bicep. “I thought you meant may I get that.”
“No, I can do it. Here we go, I got it, right here.” He removed her bra. She let him look at her and touch her. He kissed her shoulder blade and one of her dark nipples, and he kissed the soft flesh of her breast and tasted the salt on her skin.
“That’s nice,” she said.
“Christ,” said Quinn.
He got out of his jeans, and when he turned back to her he saw that she was naked now, too, and they embraced atop the blanket she had thrown on the couch. He kissed her mouth and rubbed himself between her thighs, and she moaned beneath him and laughed softly and with pleasure as his fingers found her swollen spot. Her skin was a very deep brown against his pale, lightly freckled body, and he intertwined his white fingers with her brown fingers and kissed her hand.
“You know what we’re doing now?” whispered Quinn.
“Celebrating diversity?”
“I like it so far.”
“We’re all the same,” said Juana, “deep down inside.”
STRANGE owned a ’91 Cadillac Brougham V—8, full power, black over black leather with the nice chromed—up grille, that he used when he wasn’t working, only for short trips around town. He drove up Georgia Avenue, listening to World Is a Ghetto coming from the deck. Greco sat on his right on a red pillow Strange kept for him there, his nose pressed up against the passenger—side glass.
Janine and Lionel Baker lived in Brightwood, up on 7th and Quintana, in a modest red—shingled house. Strange parked out front, got Greco out by his leash and choke chain, and walked him to the front door.
Janine, Lionel, and Strange had dinner together in a small dining room where a portrait of the Last Supper hung on one wall. Janine had given Greco the bone from a chuck roast she had cooked the week before, and the boxer had taken it down to the basement to gnaw alone.
“Pass me those mashed potatoes, young man,” said Strange.
Lionel was tall like his mother, and would be handsome soon but had not yet fully grown into his large features. He held the bowl out for Strange to take.
“Thank you,” said Strange, who spooned a mound onto his plate and reached for the gravy bowl.
“Where you goin’ tonight, Lionel?” asked his mother.
“Got a date with this girl.”
“What’s her name?”
“Girl I know named Sienna.”
“How you gonna take a girl out on a date when you got no car?”
“Could I get yours?”
“Lionel.”
“We’re goin’ out with Jimmy and his girl. Jimmy’s got his uncle’s Lex, gold style with some fresh rims.”
“Where Jimmy’s uncle get the money for a Lexus?” asked Janine, her eyes finding Strange’s across the table.
“I don’t know,” said Lionel, “but that joint is tight.” He gave Strange a sideways glance and said, “Course, it ain’t tight like no Caddy, nothin’ like that.”
“You don’t like my ride?” said Strange.
“I like it.” And Lionel smiled and sang, “Best of all, it’s a Cad—i—llac.”
Janine and Lionel laughed. Strange laughed a little, too.
“He’s got a nice voice,” said Janine, “doesn’t he, Derek?”
“It’s all right,” said Strange. “Too bad no one sings anymore on the records, otherwise he might have a career.”
“I’m gonna be a big—time lawyer, anyway,” said Lionel, reaching toward the platter of fried chicken and snagging a thigh.
“Not if you don’t get your grades up,” said Janine.
“You over at Coolidge, right?” said Strange.
“Uh—huh. Got another year to go.”
“So what movie you going to see tonight?” asked Janine.
“That new Chow Yun—Fat joint, up at the AMC in City Place.”
“Say you chewin’ the fat?” said Strange.
“That’s funny,” said Lionel.
Strange looked at the Tupac T—shirt Lionel was wearing, the one with the image of Shakur smoking a blunt. “None of my business, but if I had a date with a young lady, I wouldn’t be wearin’ a shirt with a picture of another man on the front of it.”
“Oh, I’ll be changing into somethin’ else, Mr. Derek. Bet it.” Lionel looked at the watch on his gangly wrist. “Matter of fact, I gotta bounce. Jimmy’ll be here any minute to pick me up.”
Lionel dropped the thigh bone and took his plate and glass and carried them off to the kitchen.
“See what I put up with?” said Janine.
“He’s a good boy.”
“I do love him.”
“I know you do.”
Janine patted Strange’s hand. “Thank you for coming over tonight, Derek.”
“My pleasure,” said Strange.
Ten minutes later a horn sounded from outside, and they heard Lionel’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. Strange got up from the table. He walked into the foyer and met Lionel as he was heading for the front door.
“Later, Mr. Derek.”
“Hold up a second, Lionel.”
Lionel looked himself over. He wore pressed jeans and a Hil—figer shirt with Timberland boots. “What, you don’t like my hookup?”
“You look fine.”
“Got me some brand—new Timbs.”
“Sears makes a better boot for half the price.”
“Ain’t got that little tree on ’em, though.”
“Listen up, Lionel.” Strange took a breath. He wasn’t all that good at this, but he knew he had to try. “Don’t be drivin’ around smoking herb in a fancy ride, hear?”
“Herb?” Lionel said it in a mocking way, and Strange felt his face grow hot.
“All I’m telling you is, the police see a car with young black men inside it, ’specially a gold Lexus with fancy wheels, looks like a drug car, they don’t think they need a reason to pull you over. They find blunt or cheeva or whatever you’re calling it these days inside the car, you got a mark on your record you can’t shake. You might as well go ahead and forget about law school then. You understand what I’m saying?”
“I hear you, Mr. Derek.”
“All right.” Strange reached into his back pocket and pulled a twenty from the billfold. “Here you go. You don’t want to be taking out a nice girl without a little extra money in your pocket. Take her over to that TGI Friday’s they got up there after the show, buy her a sundae, something like that.”
“Thank you.” Lionel took the money and winked. “Maybe after that sundae, she might even give me some of that trim.”
Strange frowned, put his face close to the boy’s, and lowered his voice. “I don’t want to hear you talking like that, Lionel. You have a nice young woman, you treat her with respect. The same way you’d want a man to treat your mother, you understand me?’
“Yes sir.”
Strange still had his wallet out, and he pulled a condom he kept for emergencies from underneath his business cards. He handed the condom to Lionel.
“In the event something does happen, though …”
“Thank you, Mr. Derek,” said Lionel, smiling stupidly as he pocketed the rubber. The horn sounded again from out on the street. “I’m ghost.”
“Have a nice time.”
Lionel left, and Strange locked the door behind him. Strange walked back to the living room, wondering just how bad he’d fucked that up.
Janine was waiting for him there. She had put Songs in the Key of Life on the stereo and had brought out a cold bottle of Heineken and two glasses and set them on the table before the couch. Janine was sitting on the couch with her stockinged feet up on the table. Strange joined her.
“You and Lionel have a little man—to—man?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“There’s so much I can’t give him alone.”
“I’m just a man, no smarter than any other.”
“But you are a man. He needs a strong male figure to
guide him now and again.”
Strange smiled and flexed his bicep. “You think I’m strong?”
“Go ahead, Derek.”
“I don’t feel too strong tonight, I can tell you that.”
“That Sherman Coles pickup do you in?”
“Good thing I had that young man with me.”
Janine put a pillow behind Strange’s head. “Tell me about your day.”
They talked about work. He told her the Coles story, and she told him how she’d taken care of some loose ends at the office. When they were done talking and the beer bottle had been emptied, they went upstairs to Janine’s room.
She had turned the sheets down, and he knew she had done it for him. Her clock radio, always set on HUR, had been turned on and was softly emitting some Quiet Storm. The room was strong with the smell of her perfume, and as he undressed her, taking his time, the room grew strong with her female smell, too.
He got out of his outer clothes and stripped himself of his underwear. They were naked and they kissed standing. He got his hand on her behind and caressed her firm, ample flesh.
“Damn, Janine.”
“What?”
“You got some back on you, girl.”
“You don’t like it?”
“You know I do.”
He pushed her large breasts together and kissed them, then kissed her mouth.
“Come on,” she said, short of breath.
“You in some kind of hurry?” Strange chuckled and sucked a little on her cool lips.
“Sit your ass down,” said Janine.
“Here?” asked Strange, pointing to the edge of the bed.
“You said you were tired,” said Janine. “Let me do the work tonight.”
“WHO’S this right here?” said Quinn. “Lauryn Hill,” said Juana. “You like it?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty nice. But you have any music with a guy singer?” “I got the Black Album. You know, Prince. Does that count?”
“Oh, shit,” laughed Quinn.
“What’s so funny?”
“I already had this conversation once today.”
Quinn adjusted himself. He felt his erection returning, and he moved his hips against hers. He gave her a couple of short strokes to let her know he was still alive.
“You tryin’ to stay in or get out?”
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