Bronx Requiem(103)
“Okay. We should move fast on this. I guess we could use your help. We’ll figure out how to play it as we head up there.”
They stood up to leave. Amelia slipped on her hoodie and shoved the Glock into the kangaroo pocket.
Beck asked her, “By the way, when you were looking for a gun to shoot Derrick, were there other guns hidden in that apartment?”
“Not that I could find. I didn’t want to use a frozen gun, but it worked.”
“You still have that gun?”
Amelia pointed toward the closet. “In the closet. In a red laundry bag. Why?”
“I might need it later.”
“You can have it. But it’s empty.”
“Empty is fine.”
61
Sitting in their van on Hamilton Avenue overlooking the employees’ parking lot outside Sing Sing, the Bolo brothers spotted a hunched-over man walking toward the car registered to Edward Remsen. Although the car was a gleaming new Lexus GS 350, in his rumpled uniform and scuffed work shoes, Remsen looked like the last person who would own such a car.
Ricky, talking out of the side of his mouth as usual, commented to his brother, Jonas, “That shit bag definitely has a second stream of income.”
They tailed Remsen to a bar frequented by guards located on Main Street in Ossining. While he was still in the bar Ricky called Beck to report on his progress.
Beck answered the call while he, Amelia, and Demarco were heading to Biggie Watkins’s house.
“What’s going on?”
“Remsen’s been in a local watering hole for about forty minutes. Looks like the usual TGIF-activity for law enforcement personnel—getting piss drunk.”
“Interesting. Either they haven’t found his father and brothers, or they haven’t notified him yet.”
“Maybe he likes to turn his cell phone off while he’s drinking.”
“Whatever. Stay with him. Ciro and Manny are heading to Norwood. Call them and let them know when and where they can take him down.”
“Will do. If his next stop isn’t home, I’ll let them know.”
“Good. Tell them where he’s headed, and they’ll catch up to you. Don’t lose him.”
“No way.”
Beck cut the call and turned around in the passenger seat so he could talk to Amelia.
“Thanks for doing this.”
“This is going to help you take down Juju, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you don’t got to thank me.” Amelia turned to stare out the car window. “If you don’t do somethin’ about Juju Jackson and Whitey Bondurant, I’ll have to look over my shoulder the rest of my life. If they get me, they’ll kill me. After they rape and beat me. Simple as that.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“You only two guys. Or four guys. Every damn thug in the Bronx want to be on their crew.”
“That’s why they’re called wannabees. What can you tell me about this place we’re going to?”
“It’s Biggie’s main house. He has other places, but I don’t know all of ’em.”
“What about Jackson?”
“What about him?”
“Does he own part of this place?”
“Juju owns part of everything. He’s behind a lot of shit.”
“How many women you think will be there?”
Amelia shrugged. “I don’t know. Four, five, maybe more. And most likely Queenie.”
“Who’s she?”
“She was one of Biggie’s women. Maybe even one of Juju’s before that. She got passed on. She’s a smart whore who always found a way to be useful. She was helping Derrick run his deal. Watched over his whores.”
“Who else might be there?”
“Some of the ones that lived with Biggie, and probably the girls that can’t stay at Derrick’s place in the Houses anymore.”
“Any children?”
“For sure. And probably some of Juju’s guys in there watching over things. Got to be. They wouldn’t leave all those women alone. And they got to watch over Biggie’s stuff.”
Beck said, “I wanted to ask you about that gun you have.”
“I ain’t giving it up.”
“I’m not asking you to. I want to know if you ever fired it.”
“No.”
“Then you don’t know if it works properly. Please don’t shoot the gun unless you absolutely have to. And, if you have to, be careful. We don’t really know who’s in there, or where they might be. You fire that gun, bullets could go through walls. You don’t want to shoot any babies, do you?”
Surprisingly, Amelia thought for a moment before she answered. “No. I guess not. Then again, if they’re Biggie’s babies, maybe they be better off dead.” Amelia paused a beat, staring out the window. “Especially if they’re girl babies.”
After a few moments, Beck said, “I’m thinking you should help us get in the house, then hang back while we do what we have to do.”
“Fine with me.”
A few minutes later, Demarco drove past a two-story house, three windows wide with faded yellow wood siding on Crotona Avenue between 178th Street and East Tremont. The house stood behind a rusting chain-link fence set into a two-foot concrete base painted a garish red. All the doors and windows were secured by wrought-iron bars. Next to the house stood a four-story brick apartment building. A driveway ran between the house and the apartment building leading to a backyard.