This story, set in 2000, takes place in fictional “Frenchman’s Bend” in Southwest D.C. (At the point where the Potomac and Anacostia Rivers intersect, there is indeed a “bend” if not one called as such in real life.)
Right at the geographical bend, the author situates a blighted drug park, full of “brown dirt and weeds too dumb to die and scraps of paper and brightly colored plastic bags, trash flitting across the scrub.” Thus we are introduced to a recurring theme of Tucker’s: the dichotomy between the rich, powerful, and wealthy sections of D.C., and the rest of the city. Most tourists, he opines, would be shocked by the contrast between the “emerald idyll” of East Potomac Park, and the “broken glass and the hard hustle” near “some of the most brutal projects in the city” where you can find “smack freaks, crack whores, smoke hounds, drunken assholes, the lowest forms of prostitution known to mankind.” (In the book, a reporter at "The Washington Post" makes fun of the naïve tourists: “yahoos from flyover, a-damn-mazed this happened in sight of the Capitol Building? . . .You’d think they’d read the papers before they got here….”)
No one lives in The Bend: “It was just open ground. It was where D.C. went to kill and be killed,” the “murder capital of the murder capital.” Moreover, most cases remained unsolved “because no one who knew enough cared to get involved.”
[The author posits that The Bend was the primary site of D.C.’s most notorious antebellum slave market. In actual fact, while The Bend itself is fictional, there were a number of white slave traders who operated in Washington as well as nearby Virginia, including the Alexandria slave-trading firm that became the largest in the country for an eight-year period, Franklin & Armfield. As the Pulitzer Prize winning historian David Levering Lewis wrote, “The auction block, the lash, and the manacled gangs on their way to the Deep South were as much a part of Washington as the steamy climate, the malaria, the marshes, and the dust.”
Spaces in taverns and in jails were rented out for placement of shackled slaves. There were also privately owned slave holding areas, called “Georgia Pens,” which were notoriously bad. One of the worst of those dungeons was known as Williams Private Jail or “The Yellow House” and was located just south of the current grounds of the Smithsonian Institution.]
The hero of Tucker’s series of stories about D.C. crime (this is the second) is Sullivan “Sully” Carter, a former foreign war correspondent for "The Washington Post" who now works on the metro beat. His traumatic wartime experiences left him with serious PTSD and a bad alcohol problem. Still, he manages to solve crimes that elude the police.
As the book begins, the press has just learned of the death of 21-year-old Billy Ellison, the scion of a black elite family with a long history in Washington. Billy’s father died years before, but his mother, Delores, was on the White House social list. She worked as a strategist for the powerful attorney, Shellie Stevens, who met with Sully only to warn him off the case. But that just amounted to a challenge for Sully. Furthermore, Sully wants to tie the death into the history of The Bend. He also wants to pull in the subject of other recent deaths in The Bend; it looked like a war was picking up between rival drug gangs, and interviews lead him to believe that Ellison was somehow involved. To get the inside info, he contacts Sly Hastings, “one of the deadliest men in the city, a killer and a sociopath, and perhaps his best source in town.”
Sly tries to educate Sully about what has been happening with the drug scene:
"‘That there is the problem with you reporters,’ he said. ‘Y’all always looking at the wrong thing, barking up the wrong goddamn tree. Woof woof over here, woof woof over there. Look here. Follow the money. Ain’t that what y’all like to say?”
Sully chases down the story, in many instances at his own mortal peril. But, as he muses:
"…stories were nothing but fever dreams that came ad passed through you and, later, left you looking back, wondering how the thing had possessed you so completely.”
And solving crimes? That was like “a crossword puzzle with gore.” He couldn’t resist even if he wanted to do so.
Evaluation: This gritty follow-up to the first book in the series, The Ways of the Dead, keeps you turning the pages. I especially liked the way in which the author integrates local history into the plot, adding a lot of interest to what otherwise might just be another well-written noir who-done-it.