Bronx Requiem(32)

Nobody in the car spoke until Demarco parked about fifty feet south of the house.

Beck asked Leon, “Why don’t you call your buddy Derrick and find out if he’s in there.”

Leon answered, “Don’t have to.” He pointed toward the end of the block. “That’s his car.”

“What? The black Jeep Cherokee?”

“Yeah.”

“So what’s your man Watkins doing here?”

Leon had relaxed a bit. Enough time had gone by with Beck and his men that he no longer feared they were going to kill him. He responded to Beck’s question with a sullen attitude.

“Hell if I know.”

Without a hint of warning, Ciro Baldassare slammed the side of his right fist down onto Leon’s left thigh. He hit him so hard that even though the femur was the thickest bone in Leon’s body, covered with layers of muscle, the blow nearly cracked the bone. The pain was so intense and unexpected that Leon gasped, and then as waves of more pain followed, he bent forward grunting and moaning.

The fact that Leon dared to utter any noise further angered Ciro. He grabbed Leon by the back of his neck and rammed his forehead into the front seat.

“Straighten up your attitude you f*cking ignorant hump, or I’ll kill you. Are you too goddam stupid to get what’s going on here?”

Beck knew he had seconds before there would be no way to stop Ciro. He needed Leon Miller. He turned quickly and said, “Ciro, do me a favor and don’t kill him just yet. He’s going to cooperate.”

Ciro snarled at Leon, “Answer his f*cking questions.”

Beck waited as Leon struggled to get control of himself, knowing the boy had never felt anything like the pain pulsing through his thigh. Leon grimaced and talked as fast as the pain and fear would allow him.

“I can’t say for sure. I’m figuring he wants to get somewhere away from the Houses after that fight. But he might be doing some deal up there. I seen his brother Jerome’s car about a block back that way.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Could be anything. He and his bro handle money for a lot of deals.”

Beck nodded. “Do they own the whole house?”

“Yeah, everything but the top floor is mostly for stuff he stores.”

“Like what?”

“Stuff they got to buy or sell. Whatever they gotta hide until it gets where it’s s’posed to be.”

“What do they do on the top floor?”

“Run hookers mostly.”

“What’s the layout?”

“There’s a front room, a hallway, a bathroom, two bedrooms for his whores, kitchen, and a small room in back they also got a bed in.”

“How many women is that pimp running?”

Leon shook his head, knowing he did not know the actual number, but reluctant to say out loud that he didn’t know.

“Guess,” said Beck.

“Between him and his brother, I’d say ’bout fifteen, twenty. Maybe more.”

“So we got two pimps hiding out up there, and most likely some whores.”

“Could be some of his guys up there, too. You know, hangin’ with him. Layin’ low.”

“Okay,” said Beck, “D, cruise around a bit. Leon, keep your eyes open and let me know if you see any other cars you recognize.”

Demarco drove until he’d covered every street on the three blocks surrounding Watkins’s whorehouse. Leon picked out two more parked cars he recognized. They arrived back where they’d started out.

Demarco turned in his seat slightly so he could talk to Beck as well as Ciro and Manny in the backseat. “So, what do we figure? Five, six, ten guys up there? Maybe a couple of hookers?”

“The more the merrier as far as I’m concerned,” said Beck. “Better chance we find the one who pulled the trigger on Packy.”

The comment didn’t go unheard by Leon Miller. Up until that moment, he didn’t know the man who had started the beef with Derrick had been shot. Were these guys setting out to kill Derrick and his crew? Couldn’t be. Derrick and the others wouldn’t go down without a fight. And how did these four figure on getting in there? Maybe they were crazy enough to try it, but there was no way they would all come out alive.

Beck asked Leon, “Is there any back door out of there?”

Leon swallowed, distracted by his thoughts. “What?”

Ciro turned to look at Leon.

“Sorry. Sorry. You mean up top? No. No, there ain’t no back door or back stairs. There’s just a window in the kitchen that opens onto a fire escape.”

“How many shotguns do we have?” asked Beck.

Demarco answered, “Two. Both in the trunk. Manny’s Winchester and my Benelli.”

Beck checked his watch. 3:10 P.M.

“Okay, look, we’re never going to get all these *s in one place again. I’m not losing this opportunity. D, you take the Winchester and go around to the back of the house. See if you can make your way up the fire escape. When you hear us bust in the front, break the window if it’s locked, and get into the kitchen. Make sure nobody runs out the back. Anybody points a gun at you, drop ’em.”

“Ciro, you take the Benelli. I’ll go in the front door. Manny behind me. You last. We put everybody we see on the ground. If it takes a couple of blasts, so be it, but try not to kill anybody unless you have to. I need information.”