Bronx Requiem(28)

She asked, “What…?” but stopped.

“What, what, bitch?”

“What happened?”

“What you think happened? Someone call me out, they callin’ all of us out. Like I said, if he’d had a gat, he’d be dead. Dumb son of a bitch threatened me unless I give you up. Shit. If you hadn’t been out getting me my money, I might a kicked you to the curb right then and there. Instead, we f*cking beat the shit outta him, that’s what happened.”

Amelia quickly looked at the others. She noted that a few of them hadn’t come out unscathed. She struggled with her feelings. She’d never had a father, and certainly never had a man who was willing to fight for her. But what the hell good had it done?

Amelia swallowed, sitting motionless and silent so as not to ignite any reactions. Clearly, Derrick and his crew were blaming her, wanting her to pay for what had happened. It felt like she was surrounded by vicious dogs working themselves up to attack her. Any one of them might make a move at her, particularly Tyrell.

And then, perhaps sensing control slipping away, Jerome Watkins stood up and spoke.

“Get up girl. Go back in the bedroom. Derrick, come with me.”

Amelia moved fast, taking the opportunity to get away from Derrick’s crew. Jerome and Derrick followed her. She went into the bedroom. Jerome came to the door. Before he locked her in, he told her, “Don’t make a goddam sound in here.”

He motioned for Derrick to follow him back to the kitchen. They sat across the table from each other. Jerome was forty pounds heavier than Derrick and six years older. He spoke more slowly, with less emotion. He leaned toward his younger brother.

“We got trouble here.”

“Why? Fuck that bitch. I’ma cut her loose. She ain’t no f*ckin’ earner anyhow. More trouble than she’s worth.”

“It’s past that now.”

“Why? Cuz her * father gonna try to cause us trouble? If I put a bullet in her head and dump her, what’s he gonna do about it?”

“Listen to me. You don’t know the whole story.”

“What do you mean?”

“I f*cked up. Eric told me to get word to you. Wanted you to kick her out.”

“When?”

“Day before yesterday. I was going to tell you yesterday, but I didn’t get around to it. I didn’t know it was like a right-away thing.”

“Why? Why Juju want me to get rid of her?”

“I don’t f*ckin’ know. He don’t explain shit. Just do this, do that.”

“So whatever. We’ll kick her ass out now. Let her run back to her bust-out father.”

“Might be too late for that. Might be we have to make her disappear like you said. I don’t know what’s going on with Eric. Or what’s behind all this mess. I gotta get with him and tell him what’s happening. He probably already knows, but we got to wait to hear from him now.”

Derrick said, “All right. No big thing. I got to lay low anyhow. Cops piled in the Houses after we beat the shit out of that guy. I’m sure they be looking for me.”

“All right. Lay low. And keep the bitch locked up and out of sight.” Jerome lowered his voice and leaned closer to Derrick. “Comes down to it, who you want to use to get rid of her?”

“That one’s easy. Fuckin’ Tyrell. I won’t even have to pay him. I tell him he can do what he wants with her for a couple of hours, then get rid of her. That’s all the pay he’ll need.”

“All right, but make sure after he does her, he meets me with the body. I got to know it’s done and make sure to dump her someplace nobody’s gonna find her. Can’t rely on no retard like Tyrell to do that right.”

“What about the father?”

Jerome gave his brother a baleful stare and said, “I suspect that ship is sailed. He might already be gone if Juju heard about this mess and put Whitey on it.”





12

By the time John Palmer had filed his reports, checked in with Lieutenant James Levitt, the supervisor of the 42nd Precinct’s detective squad, and liaised with the 43rd Precinct, where the Bronx River Houses were located, it was 2:35 P.M. He’d already dipped into his private stash of Adderall to keep going. He still had to write up a report for the other detectives in the squad, check with the M.E.’s office, and circle back to his FBI contact. Then he would try to locate Derrick Watkins.

He had feelers out with two contacts. Gregory McAndrews at FBI Violent Gangs Task Force, and Peter Malone, a detective from the 50th Precinct who worked gangs and narcotics. Malone would take his sweet time getting back to him, so he planned on driving over to the Five-O to run down the information with him personally.

Gregory McAndrews was a different story. Even though the FBI was notorious for keeping information under wraps, McAndrews would check his files and call him back as soon as possible because McAndrews wanted to cultivate a connection with his father, John Palmer Senior, a powerful lobbyist, lawyer, and well-known advocate for law enforcement unions in New York State and City. Senior’s influence extended into the NYPD, the Department of Correction, New York State Police, numerous local police forces, as well as the Justice Department, and Homeland Security. Palmer Senior had long ago mastered the art of greasing the revolving doors between law enforcement personnel and the private sector. A phone call from him could help McAndrews jump ahead of a hundred other special agents when it came time for a career change.