38.
SIXTH AVENUE AND BLEECKER STREET
MOMENTS LATER
I MOVED CLOSE ENOUGH TO PAUL to smell his foul breath. He glared at me, but I could tell he’d been caught off guard by our sudden arrival. Going up against Pearl, armed as Paul was with four gunmen by his side, should have been an easy takedown. But now, with me, Bruno, and Carmine on the scene, along with Pearl, the situation was not quite so neat. “Where were you told to take Pearl?” I asked. “And who was it that told you?”
“He looked like he could use some fresh air,” Paul said, one hand resting on his still-holstered gun. “He probably doesn’t get out much. Given his condition and all.”
I took a step back and then lifted my right knee into Paul’s groin. He jolted over, gasping for air. In two swift moves, I leaned in and pulled his gun from his holster, then smashed my left knee against his exposed throat. The second blow sent him sprawling to the ground. He gagged, unable to speak and desperate to take in air. I turned to my left and jammed Paul’s gun against the chest of the third man. He had been standing there motionless.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” I said to him. “I know the other clowns in your little posse from when me and Pearl were on the job. But you’re an unknown.”
“Victor,” he said, his eyes as much on the gun jammed in the center of his chest as they were on me. “The name’s Victor.”
“You off the job like the rest?” I asked.
He nodded. “About two years now,” he said. “Worked out of the Bronx and Queens, mostly.”
“I was looking for a yes or no,” I said. “Not a résumé.”
“So, what happens now?” It was Jackie, still holding on to Pearl’s wheelchair, my partner’s gun only a few inches from his face.
I answered without turning away from Victor. “Glad you asked, Jackie,” I said. “We can play this any number of ways. I can have Carmine reach out to some old friends and have you and your buddies dropped off in a landfill on Randall’s Island before sunup. I’m sure Carmine’s bunch would love the chance to flex their muscles again.”
“Be a pleasure, no doubt about it,” Carmine said. He had both hands by his sides and was staring at the van’s driver, a nervous young man whose white T-shirt was stained with sweat.
“Or I can let Bruno here loose and see how many of you he can pound the shit out of before a punch gets tossed his way,” I said. “I’ve never seen him go one against five before, but he has a better-than-even chance of taking on the entire bunch and coming out whole.”
“Bet your pension on it,” Bruno said. He never went looking for a brawl but didn’t shy from one, either.
I took a quick glance at the street and sidewalk around us. A small crowd had gathered, curious to see what was about to happen. There are few cities in this world where a street fight can occur, even one with as many as nine brawlers, and not only would bystanders gather and watch but a handful would cheer us on. New York is one such city.
“You made your point, Tank,” Paul said. “We’ll get out of your hair. At least for now.”
I nodded. “You do that,” I said. “And while you’re at it, do one other thing.”
“What would that be?” Paul asked.
“Pass a message to your gatekeeper Kenwood,” I said. “He reached out and tried to touch someone close to me. That doesn’t sit well. Not one bit.”
“That it?”
“No, that’s not it,” I said. “Add this to the memo: I’m going to nail his ass for sending an innocent kid to jail. We’re going to find Rachel’s killer. Then I’m going to turn him over, make him pay for the other innocent kids he put away. By the time I’m done, he’ll be begging me to kill him just to keep his sorry ass out of a prison cell.”
“Tough talk, Tank,” Paul said. “I’ll be sure to pass it along. Just remember one thing, though. There’s more of us than there are of you.”
I turned to Pearl and smiled. “You hear that, Pearl?” I said. “It never changes, does it? We always seem to be outnumbered and outgunned.”
“Just the way we like it, partner,” Pearl said.
39.
THE BROWNSTONE
LATER THAT DAY
I PACED THE LIVING ROOM, A glass of Brunello dangling off the fingers of my right hand. Pearl was against a far wall, watching me, a cold can of Bud Light clutched in his hand. Carmine and Connie sat on the couch, one drinking a bottle of Perrier, the other cradling a large bowl of baked ziti. I stopped pacing and turned to face them. “The situation today could have gone south in so many ways,” I said. “This wasn’t the first time we’ve had the ones we’re chasing make a reach for us. So far, they’ve mostly focused on Chris and Pearl.”
“We’re the most vulnerable,” Pearl said. “Makes sense for Kenwood to make a move against us. The same holds true for the accountants. You take down your weakest targets. It’s the smart play.”
“And it’s also one that could end up getting one of you killed,” I said. “We’ve already lost one of our team on the last job. I don’t want to make a habit of it.”
“Pearl can take care of himself,” Carmine said. “As he proved today. It’s Chris who’s the bigger concern. We need to protect him better, that’s for damn sure.”
“And how do we do that?” I asked. I was angry, frustrated, and felt myself losing control over the two cases I had taken on.
There was one more thing eating at me about the accounting firm, or, to be more precise, my brother’s dealings with them. I bought that he was about to turn whistleblower and it was more than likely the reason to want him out of the way. But he had been at that firm for years and was on the fast track to make partner. He wasn’t a junior-level accountant who fell upon some files he shouldn’t have seen. He was a member of the inner circle, which, to me, meant he might have known about some of the dirty dealings they were involved in.
How deep into it was Jack? What caused his sudden come-to-Jesus moment? Was he an innocent pawn or a guilty associate who decided to come clean before the heat came down on the firm? And if any of those concerns proved true, then how the hell would I explain it to Chris and not make him hate his father as well as me in the process?
It was Connie who broke the silence. “You need to find someone to be by his side night and day,” she said. “Someone he trusts beyond any doubt.”
I looked at her and shrugged. “You mean a bodyguard?” I asked. “I’m good with that, but he would hate it.”
“I don’t think she’s talking about a Liam Neeson type,” Carmine said. “More like something shorter and with four legs.”
“A dog?” I said. “You want me to get Chris a dog? You think that will help keep him safe?”
“It will help keep him occupied,” Connie said. “And he’ll stick closer to home. Between working the computers for you and helping to train a puppy, there won’t be much time for him to venture far out of sight. Then you can put eyes and ears on him—not so conspicuous for him to notice, but close enough to come to his aid next time a situation pops up.”
“He’s told me at least a dozen times already how much he loved walking Alban’s dog yesterday,” Pearl said. “And a dog can help the boy in more ways than any of us maybe can.”
“How do you figure?” I asked.
“He’s part of our team, that’s true,” Pearl said. “And he’s adjusted well to living with us, even though we are not the easiest bunch to hang with. But a dog would belong to him, be his friend and companion, give him a better sense of belonging. It would help fill the void he must still be feeling.”
“Let’s not lose sight of it,” Carmine said. “As smart as he is, as much help as he’s been, he’s still a kid and he’s still hurting over his loss. His parents. Then Joey. A dog could go a long way toward helping heal those wounds.”
“I don’t know anything abo
ut taking care of a dog,” I said. “Neither do any of you.”
“What’s to know?” Carmine said. “Feed him, walk him, love him. The dog does the rest.”
I took a long sip of my wine and shook my head. Then I smiled. “You already got the dog, didn’t you?”
“Technically, no,” Carmine said. “But I did put a cash deposit down with a breeder I know upstate. Guy’s been around forever. He moves a dog, you can count on it being top-shelf.”
“Does Chris know?”
“Not yet,” Connie said. “We thought it would be best if that came from you. Be your gift to him.”
“What kind of dog are we talking about?”
“Olde English Bulldogge,” Carmine said. “Stubborn, loyal, loving, and very protective. Anybody goes near Chris will have to get through Gus first.”
“Gus?” I said. “How’d you come up with that name?”
“That was me,” Pearl said. “First, it’s a great name for a bulldog. Second, I named him after Gus Zelden. Remember him?”
I nodded. “One of our instructors at the police academy. We were in his class when we first met.”
“That’s the one,” Pearl said. “Figured he helped put you and me together in a way, be a nice tip of the hat to him.”
“Before I sign off, who takes care of Gus when Chris starts school?” I asked.
“There’s plenty of us to go around,” Carmine said. “He can hang with me in my garden when the weather is nice, and me and Bruno can take him for long walks. Bruno already said he’d take the dog down to the gym, have the kids there spend some time with him.”
“Food, vet bills, shots, sleeping arrangements?” I asked.
“All bases covered,” Connie said. “He’ll sleep in Chris’s room. I already ordered him two of the cutest beds. They have his name stenciled on them. And he’ll have his name and phone number on his collar, too.”
“Whose number?” I asked.
“Your cell,” Pearl said, smiling. “Figured you’d want to participate in some small way.”
“How soon will he be here?”
“I can drive up tomorrow to pick him up,” Carmine said. “With luck, be back just after lunch. Give you plenty of time to plant the surprise on Chris. That is, if you’re good with the move.”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked.
Connie stood and walked over to me and put her arms around me. She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “The dog’s not just for Chris,” she said to me in a low voice. “He’s for you. For all of us.”
I held Connie close to me and looked at Carmine and Pearl and nodded. “Looks to me like we got ourselves a dog.”
40.
INWOOD HILL PARK
TWO DAYS LATER
I WALKED PAST A LARGE BOULDER, the woods around me dense, shielded by tall cliffs and massive tulip poplar trees. I could hear the cars on the West Side Highway sweeping past me below and could see the lights of the George Washington Bridge above. I walked along a small path, making my way slowly up the trail, finding solace in the darkness that engulfed me in what was most likely the last park of its kind in New York City.
I have always loved this park. Its history dates as far back as 1626, when it was a prosperous Reckgawawanc Indian village, with streams filled with fish of all stripes, fresh game living in the tidal marshes, and low fields filled with rows of planted corn and squash. It was a special place, steeped in history and, during the daylight hours, surrounded by stunning views of the New Jersey Palisades and the Hudson River. I had come here many times during my years as a cop, to escape the grime and grind of the job, just to walk in the shadow of generations past and let the beauty of the land and the sounds of the flowing streams set my body clock back to normal.
But not on this night.
This night I was here to meet Eddie Kenwood.
He had reached out to me through Zeke Jeffries. Kenwood wanted to talk things out, see if we could reach a resolution to our situation before it escalated beyond our control. He asked to meet with me alone, told Zeke he had information to pass my way that only I needed to hear. I chose Inwood Hill Park. Kenwood chose the late hour. I stopped next to a massive tree and looked around. Except for the occasional light that sliced its way through the thick foliage, it was as dark as a cave. If Kenwood wanted to do me in, I had walked into the perfect setup.
I saw the light from a lit cigarette and a trail of smoke making its way toward me. I turned and there was Eddie Kenwood, standing a few feet to my right, the end of a filter-tip clutched in his teeth. “Leave it to you to pick such a romantic spot,” he said. “This where you would bring one of your girlfriends back in the old days? I know I did, many a time. Or are you one of those guys that likes the place only for the view?”
“We’re not here to go over old times, Kenwood,” I said. “You asked for the meet and you got one. It’s late, so whatever it is you got to tell me, might as well get to it now.”
“Fair enough,” Kenwood said. “First, you need to walk away from this Randy Jenkins bullshit. The girl is dead, the guy confessed, he got convicted, and he’s in prison. End of story.”
“He didn’t kill Rachel Nieves,” I said. “We both know that, don’t we?”
Kenwood took a deep drag on his cigarette. “Just for argument’s sake, Tank, let’s say he didn’t,” he said. “Let’s say someone else killed her. What difference does it make? Sooner or later, the rate Randy’s criminal career was going, he was going to kill somebody and go down for that. And the guy that maybe did kill Rachel, he’s probably in the slammer for another murder he committed or he’s long since dead from some overdose. You see my point?”
“So it doesn’t matter if you busted the right guy or not,” I said. “Since they’re all going to be guilty of something. That how you look at it?”
Kenwood stubbed out the cigarette with the tip of his right shoe and then smiled. “We’re all guilty of something, Tank,” he said. “Nobody knows that better than you.”
“That’s probably true,” I said. “But what I’m looking to do now is free the one who’s not guilty. Do the right thing, Kenwood. Just this one time. If Randy Jenkins is innocent, he deserves to be a free man. You’re the one standing between him and a get-out-of-jail free card.”
Kenwood stepped closer to me. As he did, I heard sounds of leaves rustling and twigs snapping around the two of us and knew he had not come alone. “I’ll tell you what, Tank,” Kenwood said. “You and me make a deal right here and now. I tell you what you need to know about Rachel and Randy, then you tell me about someone I want to know about.”
“Who?”
“We’ll get to that,” he said. “To help put your mind at ease, I’ll go first. That okay by you?”
“I’m all ears,” I said.
“Here’s what you know,” Kenwood said. “Randy and Rachel were seeing each other, on and off. He was really into her, she less so. He wanted her to be his one and only. She was young enough not to want to get bogged down with just one guy. She was seeing a few of the neighborhood turks. Randy was just one can in a six-pack.”
“Goes without saying,” I said. “She was a beautiful girl. Probably lots of eyes looking her way. I’m surprised you weren’t one of them.”
“Who says I wasn’t?” Kenwood said. “Me and her, we had some good times together. We had an understanding. I fed her needs and she fed mine. As long as that held firm, she had no worries from me.”
“Why would she have any worries from you?” I asked.
“If she was going to be my side dish, she needed to stay away from the guys she had been seeing,” Kenwood said. “You know me well enough by now, Tank. I’m not the kind of guy that likes to share.”
“So, you get wind that Rachel is still keeping Randy close by,” I said. “And that hot temper of yours moves from slow boil right into the re
d zone.”
“You nailed it,” Kenwood said. “Her coming to me for drugs and some cash in return for a little sheet time, while she was double-dipping with a rotating convict like Jenkins, didn’t sit right with me. So I went and had a little chat with my girl. I was looking to make her see things the way they ought to be, not the way they were.”
And that’s when I knew. I was standing a few feet away from the man who murdered Rachel Nieves.
“You were getting played,” I said. “And a guy like you, with your street rep, you can’t let anything like that happen. The street has to fear you. That fear is your strength. And you cannot let anyone mess with that. Not even someone you may have been in love with. It’s too big a risk.”
“Save that love shit for the Hallmark Channel,” Kenwood said. “Rachel meant nothing more to me than a warm body and a good time. She wasn’t somebody I was dying to bring home to meet the family. When it came to that end, I grow my own. I don’t buy secondhand.”
“So you went to see her,” I said. “Had your face-to-face with her and figured you’d made your position clear. But she didn’t listen. She kept seeing Jenkins. He was the one she wanted. Not you. And that burned your ass even more, didn’t it?”
Kenwood put his hands in his pants pockets and smiled. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?” he said. “She’s long dead and Jenkins is closing in on twenty years inside a cage. And I’m out here talking to you.”
“You’re right, Kenwood,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. I walked right into your little trap. There’s no way you’re letting me out of this park tonight. From the sounds around us, I’m guessing you brought along four, maybe five, of your crew to make sure I don’t live to see another sunrise.”
“You heard them, did you?” Kenwood asked.
“It’s not like you have Seal Team Six working for you,” I said. “A pack of school kids would be making less noise. So, knowing that, why not let me die by having me hear the truth? There won’t be much I can do about it once I’m dead.”
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