Bronx Requiem(100)

Jackson muttered, “Christ.”

“What?”

“Outside the courthouse? Place is crawling with cops.”

“No it’s not. Not out front. Cops come in and out, but rarely through the front. And they don’t guard the front. There’s more correction officers or court police than NYPD, but they’re mostly inside, too. Out front is a bunch of losers smoking and drinking coffee waiting to go into court.

“If you don’t want to do it in front of the court, fine. Wait for the three of them to come out. They’ll probably have a car waiting for them. They get into their car. You follow the car. Pick the best place. Take ’em all out. Blast the crap out of the one car. Kill them all. We’re done. You won’t get a better opportunity, ever. You can’t get in the way of these arrests. But you can take your shot if you want it.”

Silence descended in the car. Ippolito looked at Palmer. In twenty-two years on the force he had never seen, or even heard of a cop conspiring with a criminal to assassinate three men. His only thought was how to get as far away as possible from John Palmer.

Jackson asked, “And you can track ’em every step of the way?”

“Absolutely. I’ll be in the court. I’ll have to be available if they want me to appear at the arraignments. I’ll know when they’re heading out. When they make bail, I can even go behind the courtroom and find out when they finish their paperwork.”

“And this ADA ain’t gonna get them remanded?”

“Can I guarantee he won’t? No. Yeah, they all have records, but like I said they’re going to have a damn good lawyer. And I’ll make sure he has grounds. Nothing is guaranteed, but this is a hell of a lot better than your people running all over trying to find these guys.”

Jackson looked at his watch.

“It’s Friday. When you say they’re going to start arresting these *s?”

“Sunday, early Monday morning. You won’t have to wait long.”

“Good, cuz I ain’t. And if we find any of these *s beforehand, we’ll shoot ’em down like dogs, and you can use your warrants to wipe your asses with.”





59

Demarco knew better than to doubt Beck, but he still couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

“You’re saying that cop shot Packy?”

“Yes. Detective John Palmer shot Packy.”

Beck held up the copy of the ballistics report on the bullet removed from Packy. “According to this, the bullet that killed Packy was a twenty-two from a gun they found in Watkins’s apartment at Mount Hope Place.” He held up another page. “Here’s an inventory of the guns.” He held up a third page. “Here’s a photo of all the guns laid out next to the pillowcases I put them in.” Beck pointed to one of the guns in the picture. “This gun is a Phoenix Arms HP twenty-two. The gun ballistics says it fired the bullet that killed Packy.”

Beck paused, waiting for any reactions. There were none.

“I wiped down every gun we took off those guys and put them in those pillowcases. None of ’em was a twenty-two. They were all nines, except for one forty caliber. So how the hell did the Phoenix twenty-two get into one of those pillowcases?”

Manny Guzman asked, “It was in the pillowcase with the others? Cops didn’t find it somewhere else in the apartment?”

“No. The report says all those guns were in the pillowcases. If the cops found that twenty-two someplace else in the apartment, why put it in a pillowcase? And, it’s the only gun with the serial number filed off. And, the only gun with prints on it.”

“Derrick Watkins’s prints.”

“Correct, but remember, I wiped down every gun. Palmer’s report says he led the search of that apartment right after we left. And all of a sudden a small caliber untraceable gun appears? That’s the perfect cop throwaway piece. He was the only cop on the scene who knew about Derrick Watkins’s involvement with Packy. He brought the gun into the apartment. He saw Watkins dead … “

Demarco broke in, “And used it to pin Paco’s murder on Derrick Watkins.”

“Exactly.” Beck held up more pages. “He knew that gun killed Packy, because he used it to shoot Packy. With Derrick laying there dead, he had a chance to put Derrick’s prints on the twenty-two. Then he adds the Phoenix to the other guns. Now he’s got someone to take the fall for shooting Packy. A dead man who can’t deny it. He had the gun that shot Packy. He shot Packy. He used it to solve his case.”

Manny asked, “But why? What was his motive? He didn’t know Packy. Packy hadn’t been in that neighborhood for seventeen years.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t make sense unless there’s a connection between John Palmer and Packy Johnson.”

“What’s the connection?”

“Walter helped me find a senior guard at Eastern, Oswald Remsen, who was running a prostitution ring with his two sons, both of them guards at Eastern. I can’t prove it yet, but I’m betting his third son, Edward, worked with Eric Jackson to supply Oswald Remsen with prostitutes.”

Manny asked, “How? What’s the connection?”

“Edward Remsen is a guard at Sing Sing. Plenty of guys from the Bronx are in that prison. I’m figuring one or more of them connected to Eric Jackson hooked up Edward Remsen with Jackson. The Watkins brothers have been recruiting and running prostitutes for years. Jackson was their boss. I got Oswald Remsen to admit a new inmate up at Eastern tipped Packy off about his daughter prostituting for Jackson’s crew. I think Packy knew about Oswald’s prostitution business. I think he believed his daughter, Amelia, was going to be shipped upstate to prostitute for Oswald Remsen.”