Bronx Requiem(71)

“Listen, John, I know I’m the one pushing this thing with Jackson, and I still say it’s a necessary evil, but rule number one, and don’t forget this—if shit starts to go against you, if Jackson starts pulling something you don’t think you can control, do not hesitate to cut your losses and move on. You’re just starting out. I’m two minutes from retiring. We get jammed up now with some bullshit, not saying we will, but if it does happen, I could lose everything. It’ll hurt you but let’s be honest, you got other options. They pull my pension, I’m f*cked.”

“Understood.”

“And let me be right up front here, John.”

“What?”

“I’m not doing this for me. At this stage, you know damn well I ain’t advancing in rank or position. I’m going way outside the lines on this for you, kid. And I’m counting on you doing what you said when we first partnered up—putting the word in with your father to pull the right strings when I’m out there looking for the next place to land. Are we together on that? Tell me now it’s a go or no-go, and no hard feelings.”

“It’s a go, Ray. Don’t worry. We both know I can’t get this done without you. I give you my word, I won’t leave you high and dry. My father makes three or four calls, you’ll have three or four offers. End of story.”

Palmer extended his hand. Ippolito shook it, meeting Palmer eye to eye.

“Done.”

They ended their handshake, and Ippolito said, “By the way, we gotta find the girl. I haven’t a clue how, but we can’t have her running around loose out there. Somehow, she’s involved. Who knows? Maybe she was at that place when Derrick got popped. We find her, maybe you’ll have yourself another witness.”

“Hey, maybe so, Ray. That would be f*cking great.”

“Goddam right it would be.”





45

As Janice walked away from him, Beck couldn’t help noticing she glanced furtively at Remsen to see if he was watching her. It explained a lot about her reserve and wariness.

Remsen had always been ready to make life miserable for any prisoner or correction officer who came across his path. Having Oswald Remsen as a boss had to be a nightmare for Janice.

Beck felt his antipathy toward Remsen emerging from a deep place. He stared openly at the man, almost daring him to look in his direction. Remsen had spent decades living off the fear and misery he created in prisoners locked up without any means to fight back, guards he outranked, and this hardworking woman taking care of his piece-of-shit bar stuck out in the middle of nowhere.

Beck forced himself to stop staring at Remsen. He looked at the remains of his whiskey. It all made sense now. The fact that Remsen owned the tavern explained why he could sit in the place collecting his payoffs with impunity.

But where was the money coming from? Drugs? Beck couldn’t imagine a correction officer with Remsen’s years in the system taking that risk. Rita the CO accused Remsen of doing something disgusting. It didn’t take much of a leap to figure prostitution might be the source of Remsen’s cash under the table. Everything started to fall into place. Packy’s daughter was being prostituted in the Bronx. If Remsen was running a prostitution ring upstate, he certainly wouldn’t be able to recruit enough women from the locals. They had to be coming from somewhere. If Packy thought his daughter was going to be forced to sell herself for Oswald Remsen, a brutal correction officer, the absolute scum of the earth, he would have hitchhiked through hell and taken on a hundred thugs to stop it.

But how was Derrick Watkins connected to a corrupt correction guard running prostitutes in upstate New York? Had Derrick served time in Eastern? Or somebody he knew?

Beck had an urge to slip on one of the brass knuckles he’d brought, walk over to Remsen’s table, and smash him in the face until he told Beck everything he wanted to know.

He turned his whiskey glass between his thumb and forefinger, staring at the bar top. He took another quick look at the overbearing man at the far end of the room, lording over everybody and everything around him.

Beck nodded to himself. He could see it. If Remsen knew Packy was onto him and soon to be released from prison, he would do whatever he could to stop Packy from causing trouble. Paco Johnson was just another ex-con with no connections, no money, no power. Totally expendable. And the fact that Remsen could take care of Packy outside Eastern meant nothing would bounce back on him.

Beck forced himself to stop thinking about it. Turn off the switch and calm down. He’d found out enough for one night. He’d made a lot of effort to conceal his identity and blend in with the locals. It would be stupid to do anything more now, especially alone and more than slightly drunk. He had to suppress his loathing for Remsen before it made him do something reckless. He’d figure this out, but not here, not now.

He finished his last swallow of Jameson and chased it with a swig of beer. The peanuts he’d eaten had done nothing but make him more hungry. Time to get the hell out of this shit hole and find something decent to eat.

When Janice turned his way, he motioned for a check.

While he waited, he took one last quick look at Remsen, now talking on his cell phone. Beck decided the other two who had been with him the whole time were probably the sons Rita had told him about.

Beck paid his bill, leaving double the amount, hoping Janice didn’t have to kick back any of the tip to * Oswald Remsen.