Soul Circus

“Were you studying for your tests when I saw you walkin’ down Georgia toward the Black Hole the other night?”

“Dag, Mr. Strange, you got eyes everywhere? I was just checking out some go-go they had up in there, wanted to see if I could run into this girl I wanted to get to know. I’m allowed to have some fun, ain’t I?”

“Long as you take care of that other stuff you claim you’re doing, too.”

“I am.”

“You keep it up, then.”

Qui

“Can I get one of them Extras, Terry?” said Lamar.

Qui

Strange nodded. “Let’s go.”

Out on the street, walking to Strange’s car, Qui

“He thinks I am now,” said Strange. “When he’s older and he understands what I was trying to do, he’ll think of me different.”

“The kid’s trying, Derek.”

“I know he is,” said Strange. “Lamar’s good.”

ON the way downtown they stopped at the offices of One Kid, One Congregation, below Massachusetts Avenue, where Strange had made a short introductory appointment with Father John Winston, the nonprofit’s director. Winston was a former police officer, now a minister, out of a large metropolitan area in the Midwest, who had brought his program to D.C. Strange talked with Winston briefly in the office and knew right away that he liked the man and what he was trying to do. Both were ex-cops, so there was that co

Back in the Caprice, Strange drove down toward 3rd and Constitution.

“What was that about?” said Qui

“Robert Gray,” said Strange.

“That boy you inherited from Granville Oliver.”

“He’s in a bad place right now. I’m go

“Sounds good.”

“If I can swing it, we’ll get him into a family up near us, so we can have him on the football team, too.”

Qui

“A kid or two, maybe,” said Strange. “That would be enough for me.”

Chapter 24

STRANGE and Qui

Judge Potterfield, rotund and jowly, had asked attorneys from both sides to approach the bench for a consultation. Phillip Wood, sharply dressed and freshly shaved, was on the stand. Granville Oliver sat placidly, his stun belt beneath his blue suit, staring at Wood through nonprescription glasses.

The prosecution’s questions for Wood resumed. His testimony had been rehearsed and came off that way. It could have been recorded as a primer for the life, D.C.-style, complete with name checks of familiar clubs, go-go bands, motels, skating rinks, favorite models of automobile, brands of champagne, Calico autos and AK-47s. Wood was asked about Be

“Granville told me he suspected his uncle Be

“What were Granville’s thoughts about that?” said the prosecutor.

“Objection,” said Ives. “Mr. Wood’s interpretation of the defendant’s thoughts calls for speculation.”

“I’ll rephrase, your honor. Did Granville Oliver ever say that he would in any way try to stop his uncle from talking to federal agents?”

“He said it was time for Be

“To be got?” said the prosecutor.

“To be killed. Next thing I heard, Be

“I see.” The prosecutor paused for effect and softened his tone. “Do you love Granville Oliver, Mr. Wood?”

“Yes,” said Phillip Wood, looking straight at Oliver. “That’s my main boy right there. I love Granville like my own blood.”

Oliver’s expression remained flat and unreadable.

Judge Potterfield called a short break in the proceedings. Strange caught the eye of Raymond Ives, Oliver’s primary defense attorney, and head-motioned him to follow.

Strange and Qui

“Maybe we should discuss this alone,” said Ives.

“I don’t have a problem with him being here,” said Strange, speaking of Qui

“Okay,” said Ives. “I went over the message left at your house. You say the voice was the voice of a white man.”

“Same one, probably, who called my office on Ninth and spoke to my wife. This is no gang member leaving me death threats. Those boys in Southeast want to fuck with me, they’d do it direct. This here’s not their style.”

“The voice spoke of your conversation with Kevin Willis down at Leavenworth.”

“I got nothing from Willis on the Oliver case.”

“Right. I reviewed the transcripts of your tapes.”

“And?”

“At several points Willis talks about people in protective who are hot or who are about to flip. He’s referencing potential witnesses who have nothing to do with the Oliver trial. These are cases that are still pending, Derek.”

“Make your point.”

“They have grounds for an obstruction charge.”

“You should have warned me about that.”

“I did warn you.”

“I don’t remember you sayin’ anything.”

“I went over it with you before you left town; it’s in my notes of our meeting. Now, understand, if the government wants to go after your license or prosecute you further, they’re within their rights to try.”

“The Feds had Willis set me up.”

“Maybe. That would be damned hard to prove.”

“You want me off the case?”

“If you dropped out now, I’d understand. But I need you more than ever. What I’m telling you is, you’ve got to be aware of the possible situation you have here. Let’s assume we’re talking about the FBI. They can bug your office, your house, your bedroom, even your car.”

“I know all that.”

“They can monitor your phone conversations, including your cell. At the very least you ought to be communicating with your people through pay phones.”

“Whatever,” said Strange.

“You don’t seem too concerned.”

“I’m staying on this.”

“Okay. Good. When the time comes to resolve your problem, I’ll represent you, gratis.”

“I was counting on that.”

“In the meantime,” said Ives, “you heard the testimony in there. I need something from the Stokes girl, if there is anything, right away. Something to refute Phil Wood’s testimony that Granville hit his own uncle or had him hit.”

“I’m working on it,” said Strange.

He asked Ives about what they could do for the girl and her son. Ives described the arrangements that could be made. When he was done he said, “I don’t need to tell you to watch your back.”

Strange and Ives shook hands. Qui

“Hope you’re hungry,” said Strange.

“It depends.”

“The Three-Star Diner.”

“That Greek place where your father worked,” said Qui

“We’re meetin’ a Greek,” said Strange. “So it makes sense.”

THEY sat in a booth, its seats covered in red vinyl, along the window of the Three-Star on Ke