Free Right as Rain by George P. Pelecanos Page B

Strange didn’t think he did; Lewis’s eyes were as big as boccie balls, unfocused, all over the shop. Lewis fidgeted with his hands and pushed his glasses back up on his nose. It made Strange nervous to be around him, and the man smelled like dog shit, too.
    “Lewis, you don’t mind, me and Detective Strange are gonna go out and take a ride. Syreeta calls, you tell her I clocked out for a while. That okay by you?”
    “Sure.”
    “Nice meeting you, Lewis.”
    “You, too, Detective.”
    Quinn snagged his leather off a coat tree behind the counter. Strange and Quinn walked from the shop.
    Crossing the street, Strange said, “He blind?”
    “Legally, he is. I know he can’t drive a car. He says he ruined his eyes reading under the covers with a flashlight when he was a boy. Had a father who thought Lewis was unmanly or something ’cause he read books.”
    “Imagine him thinking that.”
    “Lewis is all right.”
    “You’re a friend to him, you
ought
to tell him about these new products they got on the market, called soap and shampoo. Got this new revolutionary thing called deodorant, too.”
    “I’ve told him. So has Syreeta. But he’s a good clerk. She doesn’t like to work too many hours and neither do I. He’s the kind of guy,
his
hours might as well be painted on the front door. Hard to find help like that today.”
    “What, they got him in charge of the romance books or something? He looks like he might be an expert in that department.”
    Quinn looked over at Strange. “You’d be surprised.”
    “For real?”
    “I’m not saying he’s a player or anything like that. He’s one of those one—woman men. Matter of fact, he’s been faithful to a girl named Fistina for the last twenty years.”
    “They say that’ll make you blind, too.”
    “I’m not blind.”
    “Neither am I. But you and me, we probably practice that kind of love in moderation. I bet Lewis in there, he just wears old Fistina out.”
    They got into Strange’s Caprice. Strange turned the ignition, and the engine came to life. He looked through the windshield at the gun shop across the street.
    “Real nice how they’re running that place a half mile over the District line. Makes it real convenient for those kids downtown, don’t have to drive too far to buy a piece.”
    “They don’t buy them there. Too many restrictions, and who wants a registered handgun, anyway? They just kind of road—test the floor models.”
    “Just as bad, you ask me.”
    “You’re thinking like a cop,” said Quinn.
    “That so.”
    “And you’re driving a cop’s cruiser. What’s this, a ninety?”
    “Eighty—nine. Three—fifty square block with a beefed—up suspension. Thicker sway bars and a heavy—duty alternator. Not as fast as those LTIs, you know, the ninety—six with the ’Vette engine. But it moves.”
    “Don’t your tails get burned, driving this thing?”
    “Sometimes. When I’m doing a close tail I take out a rental.”
    “I thought you
were
a cop when you pulled up out front of the place. Not just the car — the way you moved.”
    “Yeah, I got made as one by this old lady yesterday down in Langdon Park. Once you put on the badge, I guess you never lose the look.”
    “You tellin’ me —”
    “Yeah,” said Strange. “I was a cop and then I wasn’t. Just like you.”
    “How long ago was that?”
    “Been about thirty years since I wore the uniform. Nineteen sixty—eight.”
    Strange pulled down on the tree and put the Chevy in gear.
    THEY drove south on Georgia Avenue, music playing from the deck. Just past Kansas Avenue, Strange pointed out his shop, set back off the main drag in the middle of a narrow strip.
    “That’s me right there,” said Strange. “That’s my office.”
    “Nice logo.”
    “Yeah, I like it.”
    “You sell magnifying glasses, too?”
    “Investigations, man. Little kid sees that symbol, he knows what it means. Hell, your boy Lewis sees it, he squints real good,
he
can tell