Bronx Requiem(60)

The derelict woman clutched the bills, wincing with worry as she watched Amelia wheel the shopping cart to the Jeep, open the back hatch, and lift the cart, cans, and blanket into the back.

Amelia drove back to her grandmother’s neighborhood, but didn’t dare cruise past the house in the Jeep to see if any of Derrick’s crew were keeping watch out front. Instead, she parked on Vyse Street, one block east of Hoe Avenue.

She pulled the gun out from the kangaroo pocket of the hoodie and shoved it into the waistband of her jeans above her left pocket. She went around to the back of the Jeep and opened the hatch, pulling out the blanket she’d taken from Crackhead Betty.

She rummaged around the jumble of automotive junk in the cargo area, looking for a length of rope. Instead, she found a set of bungee cords.

She quickly took off the pink hoodie. Then she draped the dingy gray blanket over her head like a long shawl. The blanket reached past her knees. She used one of the bungee cords like a belt, gathering the blanket and securing it around her waist. The blanket covering her head cut off some of her peripheral vision, but it also blocked a clear view of her face. She made sure she could still reach under it and get to the Ruger. Perfect.





38

When Demarco turned onto Hoe Avenue from 174th Street, he and Manny spotted a car parked in front of a small playground across the street from Lorena Leon’s public housing unit. Two men sat in the front seats. Coming up Hoe, they could see only the backs of their heads, but they had little doubt they were from Derrick Watkins’s crew.

Demarco said, “Looks like we’ve got two of ’em. And I’m betting the big one behind the wheel is Jerome.”

As Demarco drove past the parked car, Manny slid down out of view below the window level. Demarco casually scratched the right side of his head, blocking his face.

“Park around the corner, D. We’ll come back on foot and take them.”

“How you want to work it?”

“We come up on each side of their car from behind. Put guns on them. If one of them is Biggie we throw the other one out, and take Watkins to Red Hook.”

“In their car?”

“Yeah. Ricky can drive up here and fetch this one. You sit in the back with him. If he twitches, put a bullet in his damn knee.”

Demarco said, “I might do that anyhow. Get him talking right now. Who cares if he bleeds all over the place. It’s his car.”

*

Amelia could feel the excitement growing as she pulled the shopping cart and bag of cans out of the Jeep. She took a deep breath, telling herself to go slow. She pressed her hand against the Ruger, feeling the reassurance of its solid mass.

As she closed the Jeep’s hatch, and set off with her shopping cart and cans, she pictured shooting whoever might be waiting for her to show up at her grandmother’s house. She hoped one of them was Tyrell Williams.

She decided if they were parked near Lorena’s house, she would come at them straight on. She wanted to see their faces when she shot them. They’d be looking for a whore. She wasn’t a whore anymore. She was a stooped-over can-collector dressed like a crazy homeless person.

She walked around to 172nd Street and headed for Hoe, pulling the wobbly shopping cart with her left hand so her right hand would be free to pull the gun.

When she turned onto Hoe Avenue, she made sure to stop and look at the tied-up garbage bags set out for collection near the curb. As she pretended to check garbage bags for cans, Amelia tried to see if any of the parked cars were occupied. She couldn’t see much farther than three cars ahead, which meant she’d have to get fairly close before she would spot anybody staking out her grandmother’s. She wondered if she should pull the gun out now, so she could shoot more quickly.

*

Demarco had to drive two blocks on 172nd Street before he found a spot to park. He pulled in to the space, and they hustled back to Hoe Avenue. They planned on coming at them from behind, figuring they could get fairly close without too much risk of being spotted. At some point they’d appear in the side-view mirrors. Hopefully, they could close the distance before Watkins’s guys drew their weapons.

At the corner of 172nd and Hoe, Demarco turned to Manny and said, “Let’s stay on the sidewalk until we get close. Just two guys walking. Then we’ll split up and take them. If they spot us before we get close, do what you have to do. Don’t risk getting nailed by these dopes.”

Manny gave Demarco a short nod, his eyes on the car midway down the block.

*

Amelia spotted the two men at the other end of Hoe Avenue coming her way at the same time she saw Tyrell and Biggie sitting in a white Toyota Avalon three cars ahead of her.

She stopped and turned toward the curb, her heart pounding. She kept her head down, but turned to check out the two at the other end of the block. Shit! She recognized them. The tall black guy who had opened the door for her at Derrick’s place, and the shorter Hispanic one who had searched Derrick’s crew for guns.

They had to be after Tyrell and Biggie, too.

She couldn’t move. She bit down to stop herself from screaming in frustration.

Not now. Not when I’m so close. Goddam them. I’ll shoot them first if they get in my way. But then she told herself, Take it easy. You barely have enough bullets for Tyrell and Biggie, much less those other two.

She tried to remember how many times she’d shot at Derrick. Three? Four?