Bronx Requiem(114)

“I talked to Levitt’s sergeant. He says Levitt is in a meeting. I told him if Levitt wants to avoid a disaster, he should call me as soon as possible. I spoke to the ADA’s assistant. Gave her enough to convince her Frederick Wilson needs to meet with me. She said he’d call me soon. It took me a few calls, but I got through to Julia Sanders. We have a meeting today at FBI headquarters, two P.M.”

“Great. Let’s keep going.”

Beck started with Packy’s release from prison. He carefully presented the evidence proving Detective John Palmer shot Packy Johnson. He explained how Palmer framed Derrick Watkins for the Johnson shooting by planting the murder weapon at the Mount Hope apartment. He explained Palmer’s motive, his father’s connection to Oswald Remsen, Remsen’s prostitution ring, and his connection to Eric Jackson through his third son at Sing Sing.

Walter interrupted. “James, do you know that Oswald Remsen, two of his sons, and a fourth man were found dead outside Ellenville?”

“No. I’ve been concentrating on all this.”

“I got a call this morning from the facility parole officer at Eastern I was working with. He told me.”

“Walter, whatever happened up there had nothing to do with you.”

“What about you, James?”

“What about me? If those men were killed, I’m assuming it had something to do with the criminal enterprise they were running. The world is better off without them.”

Walter looked down, struggling with Beck’s explanation. He steeled himself, looked up, and asked, “Can you tell me you didn’t shoot them?”

“Of course I can. Who’s investigating the deaths?”

“State police.”

“Wait to see what they find out. It won’t involve you, or me.”

Phineas looked up from the paperwork and said, “James, what about Palmer’s accusation and his witnesses who say you shot Derrick Watkins in revenge for Packy?”

“It’s bullshit. The witnesses are lying. I didn’t shoot Derrick Watkins. You shouldn’t have any trouble casting doubt on those witnesses. Ask the police how they came up with four witnesses so quickly in a neighborhood where nobody ever cooperates with the police. I guarantee those stooges were provided by Eric Jackson.”

Phineas asked, “Of course, but can you prove that?”

“I will. Let’s keep going. You could drive a truck through evidence they have against Manny and Demarco for the shooting on Hoe Avenue. The security camera photo is a joke. And the description from their eyewitness is so vague it could be anyone. Everything becomes tainted once we show them Palmer is a murderer manipulating evidence.”

Phineas checked the eyewitness statement and photo.

Walter asked, “If you didn’t shoot Derrick Watkins, and Manny and Demarco didn’t shoot Jerome Watkins or Tyrell Williams, who did?”

“My guess is Eric Jackson’s enforcer, Floyd Whitey Bondurant. Everything connects back to Eric Jackson. Jackson is cleaning house. He’s eliminating everybody that connects him to Packy Johnson.”

Phineas asked, “Again, can we get any proof of your theory, James?”

“I’m working on it. Present my theory to the police, Phin, you’ll be on solid ground. Let’s keep going.”

Beck slid the ledger books to Phineas and Walter.

“These ledgers show in detail the profits earned by Derrick and Jerome Watkins from prostitution. They go back years. There are hundreds of women and underage girls involved. A good portion of that income went to Eric Jackson, and many women connected to Jackson and the Watkins’s brothers ended up working in the Remsen prostitution ring.”

Phineas started to speak, but Beck raised a hand.

“I know—where’s the proof? My witness will confirm that but, more important, Oswald Remsen had a son who works at Sing Sing. I believe he was the connection between his father and Eric Jackson, who supplied women for their prostitution business. At least some of those women came from the Watkins brothers. I have no doubt Edward Remsen will cooperate with the FBI and testify to these facts when he bargains for a plea.

“Even without Edward Remsen and my witness, right now I have proof that Eric Jackson violated federal banking laws trying to hide profits from his illegal operations.”

Beck slid the external hard drive across the table.

“That hard drive shows that millions of dollars have ended up in bank accounts controlled by Eric Jackson. One of them is out of state. One in New York. One in Canada. All the money was deposited in the form of U.S. postal money orders. All signed by Eric Jackson.”

Phineas smiled. “You’re right, James, we don’t even have to prove the money came from prostitution right now. The FBI can start with tax evasion and banking-law violations.”

“Exactly. They want this guy. Now they have a reason to move on him. These bank records, the ledgers, the testimony of my witness and, if the FBI is diligent, I’m sure they’ll find women who worked as prostitutes for Jackson and Remsen. There’s more than enough for them to arrest Edward Remsen and Eric Jackson. And like I said, the Feds will turn Edward Remsen. He’s looking at decades in a federal penitentiary unless he cops a plea and rats out Jackson.”

Phineas said, “I just hope the FBI can find Jackson and Remsen. I wouldn’t be surprised if Edward Remsen is on a plane somewhere by now. He has to have heard about what happened to his father and brothers.”