Bronx Requiem(110)



“And how I’m gonna do that?”

“Call him on his phone.”

“And say what?”

“Are you willing to help us?”

“I help you, are you gonna take care of me?”

“You can take care of yourself. All you need is a fresh start.”

“Shit. What I’m gonna do? Go work for Google?”

Beck’s voice hardened. “You’re going to have to do something, because what you’ve been doing with Eric Jackson is over.”

Queenie shook her head. “You keep leavin’ out Whitey Bondurant and his thugs.”

“I’m not leaving him out. Why is everybody shitting their pants over that guy?”

“Cuz he’s a damn monster. I seen that man do things will give you nightmares for the rest of your life. I seen him burn people. Break bones. Cut people. Shoot people.”

“Then it’s long past time he went down. There are more dead bodies piling up around this mess than you want to know about. All connected to Eric Jackson. The thing you should know, what you have to understand, is that you don’t want to go down with them.”

“I ain’t done shit they can pin on me.”

“I hope you really don’t believe that, Queenie. You’ve been mixed up in their business for a very long time. The cops and the Feds are going to start arresting everybody they can get their hands on, including you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know. They’re the ones who’ll force you to turn rat, not me. They’ll threaten you with so much jail time, you won’t have a choice. They will not have a drop of mercy for you, Queenie. They don’t care if you sit out at Rikers, or in a federal detention center, and rot for months or years before you even go to trial. A trial that will put you away for decades, maybe for the rest of your life.”

“You tryin’ to scare me?”

“No. I’m trying to warn you. If the NYPD or FBI don’t lock you up, Juju Jackson and Bondurant are going to kill you. You know too much.”

Queenie stared out at the bay, frowning, sullen. But she had stopped arguing with Beck.

After a few moments of silence Beck asked, “What’s your real name, Queenie?”

She turned, surprised at the question. “Why you want to know?”

“Because Queenie was your working name. I don’t want to use that name.”

She stuck her chin out, rummaging up a vestige of pride in her name and herself.

“My real name is Queen-Esther Goodwin. Sometimes I used my middle name, Karen. My first name is two names. Queen-Esther. The pimps changed it to Queenie a long time ago. Like a goddam dog’s name.”

“Time to let it go. Queen-Esther sounds a lot better.”

She looked at her coffee mug, but didn’t sip from it.

“Used to take a lot of shit for my name when I was a kid. Mostly just used Karen.” She shook her head. “I wondered if this day was ever going to come.”

“It has.”

She finally took a sip of the coffee Beck had prepared for her.

“You sure, Mr. Beck?”

“I’m sure your other life is over. I’m sure there has to be a way to start over. You have any relatives or friends someplace else?”

“I got people in Florida. A sister if she ain’t forgot me. She’s married. Had two daughters. They grown up now.”

“Husband still around?”

“Far as I know.”

“Will she give you a roof for a while?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you manage to put any money away?”

“About sixteen hundred dollars hidden in one of Biggie’s apartments I’ll never see again.” Queen-Esther shook her head and frowned. “Sixteen hundred dollars. You know how long it took me to save that?”

“No.”

“Shit. In one night you give me almost double that. Enough to get a plane ticket out of here.”

“You’ll need more than that to start over. But I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve got to look into some things a bit more, but one way or another I’ll get you what you need to start over. Hell, Esther, all those years you worked for that scum, you earned it.”

She paused, thinking about whether or not she could believe the man sitting next to her. “What I got to do for it?”

“Help me do what I have to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Take down Jackson and Bondurant. And save the girl.”

“Princess.”

“Amelia.”

“And how you gonna do that?”

“I’ll explain when we get there.”

“How long it gonna take?”

“I don’t think we have much more than twenty-four hours.”

“You think they comin’ for you that fast?”

“I know they are. The cops for sure, if Jackson and his crew don’t get to us first.”

Queen-Esther Karen Goodwin continued staring out at the expanse of water in front of her and spoke as if she were talking to herself as much as to Beck. “Man, I run now it won’t be easy. Even with the money you say you gonna give me.”

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