Bronx Requiem(61)

It didn’t matter. She was closer. Walk up to Biggie’s car and start shooting. That would drive the other two off. Shoot right through the windshield. Grab their money and run. Now. Do it now.

She turned and reached under the blanket for her gun.

*

Demarco and Manny were about to split apart when they saw the woman on the street with a shopping cart filled with soda cans.

Great, thought Demarco, a damn homeless can-collector walking right into the middle of their play.

Manny saw her, too, and stopped a few steps ahead of Demarco. He turned to him and guided Demarco over to a building near the corner. He leaned back and faced Demarco.

“Let the homeless woman pass by and get off the block, and then we’ll take them down.”

Demarco stood facing Manny, his head turned slightly to watch the can-collector up the block. And then Demarco said, “Aw, hell.”

*

Amelia kept her gaze down. She held the Ruger under her blanket, eyes on Biggie and Tyrell in the front seat. There were three cars and a stretch of empty curb between her and them.

She had an overwhelming urge to walk faster, but she forced herself to keep a slow pace, pulling the shopping cart behind her.

She felt her heart pounding. The gun seemed very heavy in her hand, held awkwardly under the blanket. She advanced within two car lengths. She saw Tyrell turning to talk to Biggie, who didn’t look at him. Biggie kept his attention across the street on her grandmother’s place. She saw Tyrell lift a forty-ounce bottle of malt liquor to his mouth. He drained the bottle and in the next second opened the car door, stepped out, and walked toward the small park with the empty bottle in his hand.

Without even thinking about it, Amelia followed him into the park.

*

Manny said, “What?”

“Guy just got out of the car. The can-collector followed him into that little playground.”

“Christ, she probably wants the bottle he’s carrying.”

“It’s not the empty bottle she wants,” said Demarco. “That’s the girl, Manny. Look how tall she is. Same skin tone. That’s Packy’s kid. The one who shot Derrick Watkins.”

Manny turned to get a quick look before Amelia and Tyrell disappeared into the park.

“Goddammit,” said Manny. “Come on.”

Manny ran as fast as his bowed legs would carry him, Demarco gliding along right behind him.

*

There was a toddler-size slide and a set of monkey bars in the center of the small park, and nothing else. Past the play area, a short chain-link fence, a wall of foliage, and small trees blocked the park from the empty lot beyond it. There was nobody else in the park.

Amelia followed Tyrell at a distance. He was oblivious to her presence, intent on emptying his bladder after downing forty ounces of malt liquor.

Amelia hung back until Tyrell found a spot at the back of the little park near the foliage. Tyrell tossed the empty malt liquor bottle into the bushes.

He unzipped his pants.

Amelia waited patiently, then moved within five feet behind him. She carefully aimed at the small of his back, anticipating that the pistol would kick up and the bullet would hit him dead center.

She held the Ruger with two hands, concentrating, ready this time for the sharp crack and recoil. She squinted in anticipation. As she was about to pull the trigger, Tyrell sensed someone behind him. She held off. Amelia wanted him to see her. Still holding his penis, he looked over his shoulder. Amelia pulled the blanket off her head and waited until he recognized her before she pulled the trigger.

The first bullet obliterated Tyrell Williams’s lower spine. The impact pushed his pelvis forward. Paralyzed from the waist down, his legs folded under him. He felt hardly any pain as he sagged to the ground in an awkward heap, landing mostly on his back.

Amelia walked to him. She made sure Tyrell was looking at her. She couldn’t clearly hear his cries or pleas, or whatever noise came out of his mouth because the gunshot had deafened her somewhat. She carefully aimed the gun at his chest, even as he raised his hands to ward off the shot. She fired three times. Three steady, even shots. The first bullet went through his sternum. The second bullet took out a lung and clipped his heart. The last bullet hit his throat, cutting off any chance of Tyrell Williams finishing the curse he tried to scream at Amelia Johnson.

*

Biggie Watkins didn’t hesitate. When he heard the first gunshot, he came out of his car with not one, but two guns in his hands. He couldn’t see into the playground where the gunshots had sounded, but he saw Demarco Jones and Manny Guzman coming at him from down the block.

Without a second’s hesitation, he raised his guns and began shooting at them with both hands.

Manny and Demarco veered away from each other so Biggie had to fire in two directions. Watkins spread his arms and kept shooting.

Demarco slipped behind the back of a car for cover, letting off a fast shot that blew out the back window of Watkins’s Toyota. He leaned out, took careful aim, and shot at Watkins, but missed as the big man moved around behind the open driver’s-side door.

Manny Guzman did not duck, did not take cover, did not stop. He continued advancing on the sidewalk toward Watkins, who remained in the street, using his car door for cover.

Watkins extended his right hand around the door and fired two shots at Demarco. Then he popped up just high enough to get his left hand above the roof of the car and shoot at Manny.