Bronx Requiem(107)

Demarco left to get the Mercury. Beck found Amelia in the front room with the other women. He motioned for her to step out in the hallway.

“What?”

Beck handed her three thousand dollars. “This is yours. We found it here.”

Amelia took the cash without comment.

“We’re leaving now. You take Queenie out to the car when Demarco pulls up. Get in the backseat with her. Keep an eye on her. I know she’s not your favorite person, but try not to show it.”

Amelia nodded and went to wait by the front door.

Queenie came out of the front room. “They all here.”

“Good. Thanks. Queenie, go with Amelia please. It’s time.”

Beck waited for pushback, a comment, but Queenie just looked around once and left.

Beck walked into the front room. Six women looked at him, perfectly willing to let him be in charge. Some stood, some sat. Some were dressed for bed, others were in street clothes. Beck stood at the dining table, quickly counting the remaining money into one-thousand-dollar piles. Beck found himself a hundred dollars short for the last pile. He wasn’t sure where he’d miscounted. He didn’t have time to recount. He added the difference from his own pocket, picked up the piles, and handed them out to each of the women.

Beck wasn’t sure how he felt as each woman looked at him and took the money. None of them asked any questions. None of them said anything. After he handed the last pile of cash to the last woman, Beck said, “When Jackson’s men come, hide that money. Tell them I took it all. I’m sorry for the disturbance. Good-bye.”

Beck turned and hurried out, unable to count all the things he was sorry about.

He closed the door quietly as he left so as not to wake any of the children.





63

On the drive back to Red Hook, Amelia and Queenie sat in the backseat of the Mercury as far apart as they could. A few minutes into the drive, Beck heard Queenie muttering to Amelia, “What the hell you doing with these two? Comin’ in there tearing the place up.”

Amelia kept her voice low. “What do you care?”

Queenie said, “Girl, don’t give me no damn attitude. I tried to help you when you needed it.”

Amelia’s voice rose. “Help me how? Help me get raped and beaten and locked up in a closet? Help me be a whore?”

Queenie folded her arms and harrumphed, talking as much to herself as to Amelia. “You think you the only one? My name is in them books, too. Long before yours. You ain’t the only one got prostituted. Uppity…”

Amelia spun toward Queenie, ready to punch her, but Beck turned to them.

“Ladies, please!”

Turning sent a bolt of pain flashing across his lower ribs. He grimaced. The pain put an edge in his voice.

“We don’t need any arguing.”

Queenie couldn’t stop herself from announcing to everyone in the car, “I hope you all know what the hell you doing. Juju Jackson and Whitey Bondurant got a hell of lot more men than you got. And everyone of ’em is looking to kill this girl.”

Amelia yelled back, “And everyone one of ’em tried is either dead or busted up, so f*ck you and f*ck them.”

Beck raised his voice to interrupt them. “Queenie.”

She turned to face him, cocking her head back and forth with each word. “What? What you got to say to me, motherf*cker?”

Beck softened his voice. “You’re an intelligent woman. This is the time to stop talking and start thinking. Time you got on the right side of this thing whether you like it or not.”

“What side is that?”

“The side against Eric Jackson.”

“Yeah? And how’s that gonna work?”

“We’ll discuss it in the morning.”

Queenie made a face, crossed her arms again over her chest, and shook her head. It took a great deal of effort for her to stop talking.

When they arrived in Red Hook, Beck asked Demarco to get Queenie settled in a room.

He stood outside his bar while Demarco and Queenie went inside. Beck hadn’t asked her to, but Amelia stayed with him. It was nearing one-thirty on Saturday morning. A cold front had moved in and the moist air off the bay seemed to be hovering right at the dew point.

A bone-deep fatigue had seeped into Beck. The constant pain from the beating outside Remsen’s bar had drained him. Amelia stood next to him, tall and straight, her silent presence lending gravity to the early morning surroundings.

She asked, “Are you okay?”

Beck turned to her, surprised at the question.

“I’m okay. Just tired.”

“Sorry about that shit in the car. She just reminds me…”

“I understand. Try to forget about that. It’s all going to be over soon.”

“How?”

“Step by step.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I. Do me a favor, can you reach in and get those ledgers and the hard drive in the front there?”

Amelia moved quickly to do as Beck asked.

Beck picked the hard drive off the pile and let Amelia carry the rest. He’d aggravated something in his back slinging the masonry block into the guy running out the back door at Watkins’s house. He didn’t want to risk bending over to get the ledgers, or carry them.