Bronx Requiem(47)

Levitt sat behind Jennie’s desk. Palmer and Frederick Wilson, the ADA, sat facing each other from opposite corners of the desk. Ippolito stood by the door. The ADA’s assistant, a heavyset, conservatively dressed Asian woman, sat alone on Jennie’s battered couch, contributing nothing to the meeting except intermittent frowns and adjustments of her wire-rim glasses while Palmer and Frederick Wilson sparred.

Palmer ran down the history of the two murders, the status of the investigation, backgrounds on his suspects, his theory of the murders, ending with emphasizing the advantage of having an eyewitness to the murder of Derrick Watkins.

Levitt made optimistic comments, trying to back up his detective.

Ippolito said nothing.

Wilson, a tall, impeccably groomed black man wearing stylish tortoise-shell-framed glasses had an air of confidence about him. His crisp white shirt and off-the-rack brown suit fit him well. His shoes were polished to a shine, somewhat matched by his gleaming bald head. When Palmer finished, Wilson took no time to focus on the weakest part of his case.

“Look, Detective, I know you have your eyewitness to the second murder.” Wilson checked the notes on his legal pad. “Mr. Tyrell Williams. And hopefully, your witness will hold up against scrutiny.”

Palmer tried to speak, but Wilson raised a hand.

“Please, don’t try to sell me on him. We both know he’s as bad as the criminal who was murdered. And we both know what can happen to a witness between now and two years from now, when we go to trial.

“But, putting all that aside, you need more than a witness. You need motive. You assert that this fellow Beck shot Derrick Watkins in revenge for Watkins killing his friend Paco Johnson. That in itself is problematic, proving that level of friendship. But the bigger problem is you don’t have any evidence proving Derrick Watkins shot Paco Johnson. Without it, you have no motive for Beck.”

Palmer opened his mouth to respond, and again Wilson put up a hand.

“Please, let me warn you. Do not tell me Tyrell Williams will verify Watkins shot Johnson. I’m not going to prosecute two murders on the testimony of one witness who could have shot Paco Johnson himself. Or Watkins, for that matter.”

Palmer worked his tongue around in his dry mouth, wishing he had a decent cup of coffee to help him focus. His fatigue had made him irritable. He realized he’d have to keep calm. Ippolito had been right. They were going to need a lot more.

“Mr. Wilson, it’s not surprising at this stage that we haven’t nailed everything down yet. But the connections are there. Paco Johnson goes to confront Derrick Watkins. There’s an argument. A fight ensues. Watkins and his crew beat up Johnson. We can prove that.”

Wilson interrupted. “You’re simply repeating what you’ve already told me.”

Palmer raised his voice to keep Wilson at bay. “We’re going to get you proof that Derrick Watkins, or one of his men under his orders, shot Paco Johnson. But even without that, right now we have enough to arrest James Beck. He had motive to revenge the death of Johnson. He was Johnson’s friend. We know he arranged housing for Johnson after his release. We’ll nail down how much time Beck was incarcerated with Johnson, but clearly they had a close relationship. Beck and his men tracked down Derrick Watkins. We’ll find out how. My eyewitness will testify Beck shot Watkins.” Palmer pointed to his chest. “I can put Beck and his men at the scene seconds after the shooting. I’m also in the process of identifying the man who shot at me, who I believe is a known associate of Beck’s.”

Finally, Wilson interrupted.

“Again, you’re simply repeating what you’ve told me. I don’t care about the man who shot at you. I don’t care that you saw Beck at the scene. If you want to charge Beck with shooting Watkins, I need motive. You have to get me proof that Derrick Watkins, or one of his men on his orders, shot Paco Johnson. And that Beck knew Watkins shot Johnson.”

Palmer tried to stay calm, but couldn’t stop himself from raising his voice. “We already have leads. We’ll get corroboration. Trust me, we’ll follow this trail, we’ll connect the dots, we’ll get all the witnesses and confirmation you need, and this will end in a success. For you, your office, for all of us. I’m sure the Bronx DA’s office will be happy to get convictions on a double homicide with all the people involved.”

Wilson gave Palmer an insincere smile and said, “Thank you for your career guidance, Detective Palmer, but frankly, I’m not interested in it. Just provide what I’ve asked for. Please.”

Ippolito interrupted before Palmer responded to Wilson.

“Okay, so we know what we gotta do. Right? We’ll pull this all together as fast as we can, and your office can start drawing up a warrant for Beck on suspicion of shooting Derrick Watkins. And once we identify his associate, who fired a shotgun at Detective Palmer, we’ll ask for a warrant for him, too. Assault on a police officer with a deadly weapon. Agreed?”

Wilson said, “I’m not going to say it again. Get me the evidence I’ve asked for; you’ll get your warrants.”

Palmer jumped on Wilson’s comment. “We have enough to arrest Beck right now as a suspect in a brutal murder. We should get warrants now. Beck could be fleeing our jurisdiction as we speak. I’ve got an eyewitness. What more do I need for a warrant? The sooner we get him locked up, the better.”