Bronx Requiem(15)

“James, this is bad. Very bad.”

“Walter, please, just tell me.”

Manny Guzman had come out from the bar kitchen. Dressed in his usual work clothes, Manny looked like a tough, old short-order cook, except for the prison tattoos peeking out from the collar and cuffs of his canvas work shirt.

He had heard Walter’s report and walked slowly, solemnly, to stand on Walter’s left. Demarco remained behind the bar with no expression.

Walter took a small sip of his scotch and spoke calmly in a more normal voice.

“Here is what they told me. And trust me, I used every bit of my authority to get as much information as I could.

“They responded to a nine-one-one call at about six o’clock this morning. Near the end of their shift. Two uniformed patrol cops were already at the scene. Packy was half on the sidewalk, half in the street.

“They did a preliminary exam. They said it looked like Packy had been in a fight, but what killed him was a gunshot to the head. Small caliber.” Walter pointed his forefinger to a spot behind his right ear. “Right here. No exit wound. Bullet still in him.”

Walter paused, blinked, and then continued.

“The younger cop said they didn’t find any shell casings or anything near the body. They left when the Crime Scene Unit arrived to come to my office, but before the medical examiner showed up. They’re still processing the scene. The only witness so far is the store clerk who reported seeing the body. The area was most likely deserted when it happened, but they’re canvassing for witnesses.

“I asked them about when they thought it happened, but they wouldn’t guess. Said they’ll wait for the M.E. report. They reassured me there’d be a thorough investigation.”

Walter paused for a moment, and then continued.

“The older detective asked me if and when I’d talked to Packy. I told him about seven-thirty last night.” Walter turned to Beck. “What time did I call you, James?”

Beck had to focus to answer. “Uh, yeah, yeah. Seven-thirty.”

“Okay. So, sometime last night between then and six in the morning. I told them Packy called me from a pay phone near his mother-in-law’s place.”

“Are the cops going to talk to the mother-in-law next?”

“Yes.”

“You think Packy went to her place after he talked to you?”

“Yes. I think so. And they found him near the mother-in-law’s. I told them her address, they said it was within walking distance of where they found the body.”

Beck had forced himself to calm down even though he was seething, guilty, hovering between devastated and determined.

He said, “I should have…”

“No, James. I told you not to go up there.” Walter rubbed his face with both of his big hands, pulling himself together, standing up straight to his full height of just over six two. He cleared his throat.

“Packy Johnson was the responsibility of the Division of Parole from the moment he stepped out of that prison. He had an officer in my group assigned to him, a man under my supervision. I was the one in charge of Packy. He was my responsibility. I should have gone to see him last night after he hitchhiked into town, but I made an error in judgment.” Walter shook his head at the recollection. “I don’t know what I thought, but I made a terrible mistake, and now Packy is dead.”

Beck said, “Walter, you can’t…”

Walter waved him quiet.

“What I’m saying is, Packy was my responsibility. And still is until everything is resolved, and he’s had a decent burial. I will follow up with the homicide investigation, with the medical examiner’s office, with whomever. I’m not letting this go.”

Beck said, “Yes, Walter, of course. When did the cops leave you?”

Ferguson checked his watch. “About forty minutes ago.”

“Okay.”

The question alerted Walter. He turned toward Beck. “James, you can’t get involved in this.”

Beck stepped back from the bar and nodded. “I know.”

“James, we don’t know what happened yet. You have to let the police handle this. If you get in the way, go out there and do anything foolish”—Walter paused and looked at Demarco and Manny—“it won’t do anybody any good.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Walter. And like you said, you’ll follow up on everything.”

“I will.”

Beck placed a hand under Walter’s elbow, put his arm around the taller man, and gently guided him toward the front door.

“You promise you’ll let me know whatever you find out. As soon as you find out.”

“Of course.”

“After they’re done, after they find out what they need to find out, we’ll make arrangements with you about the burial. We’ll cover whatever it costs. You know that, right? Can you claim the body? There’s no other next of kin is there?”

“Packy has a daughter, but as far as I know there hasn’t been any contact between them for years.”

“Right, right. I think I knew that. But can you be in charge of the body? I mean, claiming it and all so we can make the funeral arrangements.”

“Yes. Packy is still the responsibility of the division until the case is resolved. I’ll try to find the daughter and notify her, but I’m responsible.”