Bronx Requiem(91)

“Good.”

Walter turned again to Manny. “Anything I should know about that happened while I was gone?”

Manny pursed his lips. “Like usual. Things gets worse before they gets better.”

“Any details you want to share?”

Manny paused, squinted for a moment.

“Walter, we both know a man gets murdered the way Paco did, it most likely ain’t a simple thing. We’re finding out what’s behind it. When it’s all over, you’ll know everything we know.”

“That’s what James said to me.”

“He told you the truth.”

“But why not tell me what you’re finding out as it happens?”

“Things keep changing.”

“Why not keep me up with the changes?”

Manny turned to Walter. “I understand what you’re trying to do, my friend. You’re trying to decide if you’re doing the right thing. But you won’t know until this is all figured out.”

“By then it might be too late.”

Manny shrugged.

“So I have to have faith that you all are doing the right thing?”

“Yes.”

“And after it’s all over, what if I decide you didn’t do the right thing?”

“Walter, you’re gonna do what you think is right. Now, later, whenever. That’s the kind of man you are. And when this is over, you’re going to go to your church down the street, and kneel down, and think it through. Maybe you talk to your priest, or maybe you talk in your mind to your beautiful wife. Or maybe you ask God. And then you will decide if you did the right thing. Maybe you get the answer. Maybe you don’t.”

Walter sat silently for a few moments. “And if I decide I did not do the right thing?”

“Then you ask for forgiveness, amigo. You ask for forgiveness.”

“From whom?”

Manny tipped his head. “Yourself.”

Walter frowned, nodding. After a few moments, he said, “Thank you, Manny. I’ll let you know what I find out tomorrow.”

Manny patted Walter’s shoulder. “Gracias.”

They both stepped out of the car. Walter retrieved his carry-on from the backseat and headed for his empty apartment. Manny took his place in the driver’s seat and headed for Red Hook.





55

The sound of a dresser drawer closing woke Beck up.

Struggling into consciousness felt like swimming up from a deep pond filled with dark, viscous liquid. The soapy scent of a woman fresh out of the shower helped to dispel the dull buzz in his head and pulled him awake.

Beck blinked his eyes open. They felt like they had been sealed by a thin film. He rolled his head and stretched under the blanket covering him. The resulting pain pulled him fully awake.

He cursed silently. Shit.

Translucent pull-down shades softened the light in the small bedroom. Above him, Beck saw a ceiling fixture with a frosted cover. It had a floral peach-colored decoration around the bottom.

He looked to his right in the direction of the soft sounds.

Janice the bartender stood in front of a mahogany dresser wearing a thigh-length kimono-style robe, untied, choosing between two folded bras in her hand. She had already selected a pair of panties she’d placed on top of the dresser.

Beck didn’t move. He didn’t want to feel the pain that would cause, or attract Janice’s attention and embarrass her.

He had no memory of getting into a bed, yet here he was, under a wool blanket. He felt around under the blanket. He was wearing everything but his jacket and shoes. It concerned him that his dirty clothes were making her bed sheets dirty.

Janice slipped off her robe and dropped it on the bed behind her. She had very white skin. Her backside was nicely shaped, her thighs defined with long muscles. Beck would have looked away, giving Janice her privacy, but he couldn’t take his eyes off an elegant, sinuous tattoo that ran from under her full right breast, along her ribs, across her hip, ending where it encircled part of her firm right buttock. The tattoo consisted of fine black lines with beautiful highlights depicting the plumage of a peacock.

She turned sideways to Beck, revealing more of her breast and flat stomach. She swept the panties up off the dresser, leaned over, and stepped into them gracefully and efficiently. Beck watched her breast sway and noted the muscles along her rib cage.

Beck closed his eyes. Don’t be a jerk, he told himself. Give the woman her privacy.

He remained still, listening as she pulled open another dresser drawer, closed it, and moved around the small bedroom. Finally, when he figured she was fully dressed, Beck took a deep breath and stirred. He heard her walk over to his side of the bed and felt her presence hovering over him.

He stirred again, and the pain made him wince and exclaim, “Jeezus.”

That was end of his sleeping act.

Janice said, “How bad is it?”

Beck opened his eyes and focused on her. She wore a pair of faded jeans that fit well and a simple black turtleneck top that didn’t.

Beck croaked, “How’d I get here?”

“It wasn’t easy. You passed out after you got out of my car. I couldn’t rouse you completely, but I got you awake enough to get you back in the car and into my house. It’s a good thing my bedroom is on the ground floor. I don’t think you would have been able to walk up any stairs, and I sure as hell couldn’t have carried you.”