Right as Rain

'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 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.'

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 soundtrack 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.