Bronx Requiem(46)

“Something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

Beck said, “Long day?”

“Yes. Quite a lot to deal with in one day.” Walter checked his watch. 10:14 P.M. “Didn’t realize it was so late. Sorry I kept you all waiting.”

“Don’t worry about it. What can you tell us?”

“Jacobi Hospital isn’t the easiest place to deal with. I waited at the medical examiner’s office there until after eight, and they still didn’t have the report finished. Unfortunately, I don’t have a relationship with the doctor in charge, a fellow named Meyers, so he wouldn’t take the time to talk to me. I had to stay there to read the preliminary notes.”

“They find anything you didn’t expect?”

“Not really. They followed procedures. The notes confirmed he was in a fight. Which the detectives already told me.”

Beck didn’t comment.

“They listed all the scrapes on his hands and trauma to his head and torso, including a diagram showing the location of each injury.” Walter pointed to places on his body as he spoke. “A cracked rib. A bruised spleen. A big contusion on his hip. A note said the hip bruise probably impaired his ability to walk. Hands. Face. Broken jaw.” Walter didn’t have the heart to go into more detail. “Be that as it may, the death certificate stipulated the cause of death was a single gunshot to the back of the head.

“There were notes about which parts of the brain the bullet destroyed, but I didn’t read them. They recovered the bullet. A twenty-two. Fairly intact.”

“Time of death?” asked Beck.

Walter pulled out a notebook from his breast pocket. Flipped through the top pages. “Estimated time between eleven P.M. and one A.M.”

Beck and the others had been listening stoically to what had happened to Paco Johnson. None of them commented, but Beck’s expression clouded with anger. His friend, a man who had saved his life, a man who had been trying to save his daughter’s life, had lain dead in a gutter for hours before anybody even came to look at the body.

Beck cleared his throat, but said nothing.

Now that Walter had delivered the hardest part of his news, he hurried through the rest.

“So, I contacted a funeral director nearby in Carroll Gardens. I know a man who’s worked there many years. He promised to make sure the funeral home takes care of everything correctly.” Walter tore a page out of his notebook and placed it on the coffee table. “Here are his name and contact numbers. He’ll have to wait for the official death certificate. It should be issued tomorrow. Friday latest. It’s all Web-based now. They e-mail copies. The second he gets the death certificate and the body is cleared, he’ll go get Packy and bring him down from Jacobi. Then we can make whatever arrangements we want.”

“Okay,” said Beck. “Thank you, Walter.”

“Of course.”

“You have any report from the police who are investigating this?”

“No. It’s still early, James, but I assure you I will follow up with them.”

“Good. Good. That will be very helpful, Walter. You’ve done everything you could for Packy. And for us.” Beck paused, “But I’m going to ask you to do more.”

Walter turned to Beck, somewhat surprised, but he recovered and said, “Whatever you need, James. Whatever I can do.”

“First, a simple thing. Can you describe the cops who came to see you this morning?”

For a moment, Walter seemed confused at Beck’s request.

“I know you told us before, but can you tell us again, Walter?”

“Of course. There were two of them. A younger man who seemed to be in charge. And an older detective who looked like someone who’s been at the job too long. About thirty pounds overweight, salt-and-pepper hair, combed straight back. Italian. Name is Raymond Ippolito.”

Beck interrupted him. “And the other one?”

“I’d say early thirties. Tallish. Maybe six two. Thin. Brown hair. Styled to look disheveled, which I suspect takes some time to achieve. He impressed me as someone who thinks he’s smarter than everyone around him. Or better. I don’t know which. Maybe both.”

“What’s his name?”

Walter thought for a moment. “Palmer. John Palmer. They both work out of the Forty-second Precinct. I have their contact information if you want it.”

“Hang on to it,” said Beck. “Last question, Walter. Would you consider taking a trip with me up to Eastern Correctional?”

“When?”

“Now. Tonight. We’ll get there, check in to a motel, and then visit the facility tomorrow morning. I’ll have you back in Brooklyn by end of day tomorrow.”

“I don’t have any other clothes with me.”

“We’ll stop by your place. I’m already packed.”

“What do you want to do at Eastern?”

“I’ll tell you what I have in mind on the way.”

Walter looked at the men sitting around him. None of them offered any comment. Walter looked back at Beck. This was an unusual request. He wanted to ask Beck more, but he simply said, “All right, James.”





27

Captain Jennie had left hours ago, but he told Levitt they could use his office for their meeting with the Bronx assistant district attorney.