Bronx Requiem(52)

“Does he ever sleep?”

“Sleep is a problem for Alex.” Demarco he took another bite of his burrito. “He once told me for a year he only slept two times a week. On Wednesdays and Sundays.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. To see if he could.”

Manny shook his head. “That’s a good way to die faster.” Manny wiped his mouth and mustache with a napkin and said, “How do you want to do this?”

“Start with the older brother. See how it goes. Decide from there.”

Manny nodded and said, “Between us, we have to know somebody in the Bronx who can put us onto that chulo.”

“Agreed. And maybe Alex came up with something. I’ll give him a ping before we hit the road.”

“A ping?”

“A text.”

“That’s not an e-mail?”

“No. Over the phone. Not the Internet.”

Manny stared at Demarco. Demarco said, “Never mind. How’s the coffee? I made it strong.”

“You’re getting there, amigo.”

*

The coffee in the diner where Beck had gone for breakfast was only passable. From the motel, he and Walter found a classic highway diner set off the main road between Ellenville and Napanoch surrounded on three sides by a large parking lot.

Beck ordered ham and eggs, no potatoes, rye toast, coffee. He was pleased to see the diner served a proper slab of ham steak.

Walter ordered cottage cheese and a bowl of mixed fruit. As they ate, Walter outlined his plan.

“So, James, I’m going to try to find out if any of the staff knows something about what was going on with Packy before his release.”

“How’re you going to do that?”

“I’ll check in with the warden first. Tell him what happened. Make sure he understands I have to investigate Packy’s death. That’ll clear the way for me to talk to the staff.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll start with Packy’s facility parole officer. Then work my way down from the supervising guards to the COs on the floor. I have to tell you, James, I expect them to close ranks on me.”

“See what happens and then press them. Ask as many of the staff as you can about anything that would explain why Packy got murdered. Remember, you’re investigating a murder. That ought to give you some leverage.”

“And you’re going to work the prisoner side?”

“Yes. I gave Alex Liebowitz a list of guys I knew in Eastern. He’s running a check to see if any of them are still there. I’ll start with them.”

“How?”

“I’ll put in calls. Letters, if that doesn’t work. I’ll get on their visitor lists if I have to get in to see someone.”

“Getting on a visitor’s list won’t be easy, you being a former inmate there.”

“I’ll work around it.”

Walter didn’t ask how.

Beck said, “My end is going to take time. I’m figuring you can get to most of the staff before the day is out.”

“Everybody but the night shift.”

Beck finished his first cup of coffee and said, “Do what you can, Walter, and we’ll see what happens. Hey, not only are you entitled, you’re obligated to investigate Packy’s murder.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will. Somebody in that prison knows something. Packy didn’t get shot down in the street for no reason.”

Walter nodded, but said nothing. They finished their food and Beck motioned to the waitress for a check.

“What are you going to do while I’m in there?” asked Walter.

“Me? I’m gonna shop for another vehicle to use while I’m up here.”

“Really?”

Beck smiled. “I can’t be driving around redneck country in a customized Mercury Marauder. Plus, I gotta send you home in it. I’ll get some piece of crap truck like all the local yokels around here drive.”

“How long are you planning on being up here, James?”

“As long as it takes.”

Walter stared at Beck, unhappy with Beck’s vague answer.

“James, you do understand my position here.”

“Of course I do, Walter. And I’m sure you understand mine.”

“That’s what worries me.”

“You know who I am, Walter.”

A pensive look came over Ferguson’s face. He said, “James, we both know you only reveal part of yourself. Not because you’re duplicitous. Because you feel like you have to protect the people around you. People like me.”

Beck tipped his head toward Walter, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

“James, anyone anywhere near the penal system finds themselves immersed in a tidal wave of misery. The chances of standing against it, ameliorating even a small part of it, are beyond daunting. Paco Johnson did that for you. And then, against all the odds, you got a chance to help him. And that rare chance was snatched away from you, suddenly, tragically, irrevocably.”

Beck leaned across the table and looked Walter directly in the eyes. “And your point, Walter?”

“I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“About how that has affected you. About what you might do.”