“I am,” said Strange.
“He represents most everything you’re against.”
“I know he does. But I owe him.”
“For what he did with Potter and them?”
“Not just that. The way I see it, most all the problems we got out here, it’s got to do with a few simple things. There’s straight-up racism, ain’t no gettin’ around it, it goes back hundreds of years. And the straight line connected to that is poverty. Whatever you want to say about that, these are elements that have been out of our hands. But the last thing, taking responsibility for your own, this is something we have the power to do something about. I see it every day and I’m convinced. Kids living with these disadvantages already, they need parents, two parents, to guide them. Granville Oliver was a kid once, too.”
Strange stared through the windshield at the darkening landscape. “What I’m saying is, Oliver, he came out of the gate three steps behind. His mother was a junkie. He never did know his father. And I had something to do with that, Janine.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I knew the man,” said Strange. “I killed his father, thirty-two years ago.”
Strange told Janine about his life in the 1960s. He told her about his mother and father, and brother. He recounted his year as a uniformed cop on the streets of D.C., and the fires of April 1968. When he was done, gray had settled on the park.
Strange pushed a cassette tape into the deck. The first quiet notes of Al Green’s “Simply Beautiful” came forward.
“Terry gave me this record,” said Strange. “This here has got to be the prettiest song Al ever recorded.”
“It’s nice,” said Janine, slipping her hand into Strange’s.
“So anyway, that’s my story.”
“That’s why you brought me here?”
“Well, there’s this, too.” Strange pulled a small green jewelry box from his leather and handed it to Janine. “Go on, take a look at it. It’s for you.”
Janine opened the box. A thin gold ring sat inside, a diamond in its center. At Strange’s gesture, she removed the ring and tried it on.
“It was my mother’s,” said Strange. “Gonna be a little big for you, but we can fix that.”
“You planning to ask me something, Derek?”
Strange turned to face her. “Please marry me, Janine. Lionel needs a father. And I need you.”
Janine squeezed his hand, answering with her eyes. They kissed.
Strange kept her hand in his. They sat there quietly in the Cadillac, listening to the song. Strange thought of Janine and of her heart. He thought of Joe Wilder, who had fallen, and of all the kids who were still standing. Outside the windows of the car, the last leaves of autumn drifted down in the dusk.
Deep fall had come to the city. It was Strange’s favorite time of year in D.C.
Also by George P. Pelecanos
Right As Rain
The Sweet Forever
Shame the Devil
King Suckerman
The Big Blowdown
Down By the River Where the Dead Men Go
Shoedog
Nick’s Trip
A Firing Offense
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