'Good,' said Strange. 'That's real good.'

'You stirred the pot, Derek.'

'I guess I did.'

'Funny about that other cop. Quinn, I mean.'

'Yeah. He's not gonna come out of this smellin' any better than he did to begin with.'

'You think he should?' said Blue.

'He made a mistake,' said Strange. 'I've gotten to know Quinn a little, and I can tell you, he's still payin' for what he did. I think he's always gonna pay.'

'Ending a fine young man's life the way he did, that's not just a mistake. And you can't tell me that if Chris Wilson had been white-'

'I know it, Lydell. You don't have to tell me, 'cause I know.'

Strange cracked his window. The afternoon sun had warmed the interior of the car.

'All the good people in this city,' said Blue. 'And all you ever hear about is the bad in D.C. Now you're gonna hear about bad cops, too, when most of 'em are good. And most of the people I come across every day, they come from good families. I'm talkin' about the people in the church, people who go to work every day to take care of their own, good teachers, good, hard workers… and here we are, all these years we been out here, fuckin' with the bad ones. Why'd we choose this, Derek?'

'I don't know. I guess it chose us.'

'If we'd only known, when we were young men.' Blue chuckled, looking over at his friend. 'Lord, I been knowin' you now for nearly fifty years. I even remember the way you used to run when you were a little boy, with your fists balled up near your chest, back in grade school. And I can remember the way you looked in your uniform, as a young man, back in sixty-eight.'

'Sixty-eight,' said Strange. 'That was some kind of year, Lydell, wasn't it?'

'Yes it was.'

A look passed between Strange and Blue.

'Thank you, Lydell.'

'You know how we do.'

Strange shook Blue's hand. 'So the department's gonna be callin' me in.'

'Any day,' said Blue. 'The way you just explained it-'

'What, somethin' about it you didn't like?'

'It was just a little rough, is all. I'd work on it a little, I was you.'

Strange returned to his row house and phoned Terry Quinn. He relayed the conversation he'd had with Lydell Blue.

'I hated to lie to my friend,' said Strange. 'But I didn't know what else to do.'

'I guess Eugene destroyed the original confession,' said Quinn.

'Looks like he did. The one the police found was written on plain white paper. I'm fixin' to destroy some things, too. Gonna lose the clothing I wore that night, my boots, my knife… you need to do the same. Get rid of your day pack and that Glock.'

'It's already done.'

'I don't like the way you sound, Terry,' said Strange. 'Don't do anything stupid, hear?'

'Don't worry,' said Quinn. 'I'm not as brave as Eugene.'

The phone clicked dead in Strange's ear.

34

On a Sunday morning in early April, when the cherry blossoms along the tidal basin were full and brilliant, and magnolias and dogwoods had erupted pink and white on lawns across the city, Strange, Janine, and Lionel met at church.

Strange had not been to services for some time. He decided to go this day, the weekend after Easter, to pray for his mother, and though he did pray in the privacy of his home from time to time, he thought it might be wise to be in the Lord's home for this, considering his mother's dire condition. He knew that attending church for personal favors was wrong and, on some level he didn't fully understand, hypocritical, but he went just the same.

The pews inside the New Bethel Church of God in Christ, on Georgia and Piney Branch Road, were nearly full. Strange paid some attention to the sermon, prayed intently for his mother while Janine rested her hand atop his, and enjoyed the gospel singing from the choir, his favorite part of the service.

Outside, as the congregation exited, Strange recognized many. In the faces of some of the children he saw their parents, whom he'd known since they were kids themselves. And he saw several former clients, whom he greeted and who greeted him with firm handshakes and claps on the arm. Though he had often given these people less-than-happy news, he was glad he'd never padded his hours with them or done a second-rate job. They knew who he was and what he was about, and he was proud that they knew.

'We goin' to that Greek joint for breakfast?' said Lionel.

'Billy's closed today,' said Strange. 'It's his Easter Sunday.'

'I was gonna make a nice turkey,' said Janine. 'Will you come over for dinner?'

'Was thinkin' I'd take Greco for a long walk down in Rock Creek,' said Strange. 'But yeah, I'd love to come over for dinner, long as it's early. Need to spend the evening with my mom.'

'We'll have it early, then,' said Janine. 'See you around five?'

'Lookin' forward to it, Janine.'

He kissed her there, in a cluster of azalea bushes planted beside the church.

'Look at y'all,' said Lionel. 'In front of God, too.'

Strange walked to his Caddy, parked on Tuckerman. Along the curb, on the other side of the street, sat a gray Plymouth K-car. Leona Wilson had opened the passenger door for her daughter, Sondra, who was ducking her head to get inside. Strange caught a quick look at Sondra, still thin and shapeless in her dress, her hair salon done and shoulder length, her eyes bright and a bit unfocused. Not there, but getting there, Strange could see.

As Strange crossed the street to greet Leona Wilson, Terry Quinn's face flashed in his mind. He hadn't seen Quinn or spoken to him for quite some time.

Leona Wilson walked around the K-car to the driver's-side door, stopping as she saw Strange approach. For a moment she didn't seem to recognize him, dressed as he was, but then she smiled at the broad-shouldered, handsome man in the pinstriped suit. She reached out with a white-gloved hand and cocked her head.

'Mrs Wilson,' said Strange.

'Mr Strange.'

Strange sat behind the wheel of his Cadillac Brougham, parked on Bonifant Street in Silver Spring. Greco was snoring, lying on his red pillow on the backseat. Strange and the dog both had a bellyful of Janine's cooking inside them, and Greco had taken the opportunity to nap.

Across the street, Terry Quinn locked the front door of the bookstore, checked it, and turned to go up the sidewalk.

Strange leaned his head out the window. 'Hey, Terry!'

Quinn found the source of the voice and smiled. He crossed the street and walked toward the car. Strange thought that Quinn had lost weight but realized that it was the hair that had given him that mistaken impression; Quinn had cut it short.

'Get in for a minute, man,' said Strange.

Quinn went around the Caddy and dropped into the passenger seat. Greco woke, sat up, and smelled the back of Quinn's neck as Quinn and Strange shook hands.

'Derek.'

'Terry.'

'What brings you out this way?'

'Was thinking of you, is all,' said Strange. 'And look at you, all cleancut.'

'Yeah. Went down to this barbershop on Georgia, Elegant and Proud?'

'I know that joint.'

'They didn't look too happy to see me in there. But all I wanted was a close cut, and they gave it to me. Anyway, it feels good to get rid of all that hair.'

'You look like a cop again.'

'I know.' Quinn thumbed his lip. 'You said you were thinkin' of me. Why?'

'Well, we're friends, for one.'

'We're friends now, huh?'

'Sure.'

'What else?'

'I saw Leona and Sondra Wilson today, at church.'

Quinn nodded. 'How's the girl doin'?'

'You know what that road's like. Once you're in, you're in forever. Always gonna be a struggle. But her mother got her into one of the city's best programs. She'll make it, I expect.'