Bronx Requiem(22)

“I suppose it’s all they have.”

“You suppose right.”

Palmer took in everything Ippolito said. If Derrick Watkins was connected to a bigger gang and more crime, it meant he had a chance to arrest more people and make a bigger name for himself.

Ippolito interrupted Palmer’s thoughts, asking, “What’s his arrest record?”

“Watkins?”

“Yeah, who the f*ck else we talking about?”

Palmer clicked through his computer.

“He got popped for second-degree possession of a controlled substance about nine years ago. He did five months in Rikers, took a plea bargain for time served and probation. Five years later, he gets arrested on a murder charge. Spent another eight months in Rikers awaiting trial. Charges dropped for lack of witnesses.”

“Amnesia caused by a gun to their heads.”

“He’s been under the radar since then. FBI has him as an unindicted coconspirator on the usual range of charges: conspiracy to commit murder, drug trafficking, firearms possession, prostitution, money laundering.”

“Yeah, yeah, who isn’t an unindicted coconspirator? The prostitution fits with what the old lady said.”

Palmer answered absentmindedly, “Yeah. My Fibbie McAndrews says it’s the latest thing now. The gangs are running prostitutes to make up for lost income since their drug businesses are dwindling.”

“He’s right. But they’ve always run prostitutes. They’re just doing it more now.”

“McAndrews says they’re going to nail all these guys at some point.”

“Oh, f*ck the FBI. Those *s take five years to put together a jaywalking case. If this prick Watkins popped Paco Johnson, we take him down now.”

“And anybody else connected to this,” said Palmer.

Ippolito gave Palmer a look. “Hey, don’t get too far ahead of yourself on this, Johnny Boy.”

“What do you mean?”

“John, look at me. How long I been doing this? I know what you’re thinking before you’re thinking it.”

“What?”

“What? So far we got two precincts involved, the Four-Two, and now the Four-Three since our lead has brought us to the venerable Bronx River Houses. You got FBI investigations. Plus, Department of Correction. We both know this thing could bounce up to the borough or division level in a heartbeat. And we both know you’re gonna ride this as hard as you can.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Up to you, just don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Fine. And, by the way, I did a quick check on James Beck.”

“Who?”

“The guy who hooked Johnson up with the mother-in-law. The guy the old lady copped to.”

“Who gives a f*ck about him?”

“Hold on. The guy killed a cop.”

“What are you talking about?”

“James Beck f*cking killed a cop.”

“You kill a cop, you’re supposed to fry.”

“Not if your conviction is overturned.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“I don’t know but get this—last year a warrant was issued for his arrest on an assault charge, and then quashed.”

“This guy must have some lawyer.”

“He’s a bad guy, Ray.”

“Yeah, along with a million other bad guys. John, he’s not our problem. We got enough crap on our plate right now. I know you want to arrest everybody within a hundred miles of this thing, but don’t start going off on other *s before we even figure out what to do with the *s in front of us.”

Palmer knew better than to argue, but he wasn’t the least bit dissuaded. Ippolito shut off the car engine.

Palmer asked, “Where should we start? The housing office.”

“Yes. Assuming Derrick Watkins has an apartment here in his name, which is a big f*cking assumption. And assuming we’re lucky enough the * is home instead of hiding out after whatever happened last night.”

Palmer took out his service revolver, a SIG Sauer P226 9 mm, and chambered a round.

“Jeezus f*ck, John, take it easy.”

“I just want to be ready. Especially if he’s got some of his crew around.”

“Relax. We find him, we talk to him. Things get shitty, we call for backup.”

“Hey, you’re the one who always says get it done fast and simple. Right?” He slid the SIG into the holster at his waist. “Let’s go.”

“And if he’s not here, we go back, report in before the bosses get pissed, and then we get some sleep. Or I get some sleep, and you can do whatever the f*ck you want with your networking and politicking and all your Junior-G-man-buddy bullshit. But we gotta report to the lieutenant. And he’s going to have to fill in the precinct commander, and he’s going to have to liaise with the commander in the Four-Three because this shit hole is in their jurisdiction, which we happen to be operating in without telling anybody jack shit about anything.”

“Exigencies, Ray. Time is of the essence. We have a right to follow this lead as fast as we can.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Ippolito popped open the car door and stepped out onto the street. It felt like the sun might try to break through the gray skies, but the day was still overcast and muggy. There were trees scattered through the projects’ grounds, and lawns in between the walkways and buildings, but the presence of green did little to dispel the institutional atmosphere created by a crowd of massive redbrick buildings.