LATER THAT NIGHT
Inwood Hill Park is where, according to city legend, Peter Minuit purchased Manhattan Island from Native Americans for an armful of trinkets and beads. It is also said to be the last remaining primeval forest on the island. But neither of those factors mattered much on this night.
“Lift him up,” Kenwood said to the three men, “and rest him against the tree. The two of us need to have a little chat.”
J.J. was hoisted, and his large body was slammed against the side of a massive tulip poplar tree. One of his eyes was swollen, and blood streaked down the sides of his face. His right hand was broken and dangled by his side. His left arm hung at an angle. He had trouble breathing, his nostrils crusted with dried blood, and both lips were swollen. Eddie Kenwood walked over to him and stood inches from his battered face.
“You got caught, J.J.,” Kenwood said. “That’s what happened. You tried playing one side against the other and you got caught. All this time, all these years, I figured you were one of the ones I could trust, and then you go out and burn me.”
“I don’t know who’s been filling your head with that bullshit,” Livingstone managed to say, blood spurting out of his mouth as he spoke. “I’m not playing on any side but yours.”
Kenwood shook his head. “That’s not what they’re saying on the street, J.J. They’re saying you’re playing ball with Tank and Pearl. If that’s true, it puts you up against me.”
“I wouldn’t play you that way,” J.J. said.
“But you did talk to Tank,” Kenwood said. “Or is that part bullshit, too?”
“He came to talk to me,” J.J. said. “Stopped and asked a few questions. None of them had to do with you.”
“Who did they have to do with?” Kenwood asked.
“That kid from back in the day,” J.J. said. “Randy Jenkins. The guy they said killed Rachel.”
“The same guy Tank is looking to set free,” Kenwood said. “He knew you and Jenkins used to run together?”
“That ain’t no secret,” J.J. said. “We was from the same neighborhood, same street. Who else you gonna run with other than the ones you know? That don’t mean I knew jack shit about what happened that night.”
“If Tank knew you were running pals, then he also put two and two together and figured you had the hots for Randy’s squeeze,” Kenwood said. “The girl he killed.”
“I knew her, that much he could zone out on his own,” J.J. said. “But there wasn’t no love between me and Rachel. She was with Randy. At least some of the time. You don’t mess with another man’s lady. No matter how you might feel about her. You keep that shit to yourself.”
“Then how does Tank move from you to Little Napoleon, do you figure?”
“Tank and Pearl were cops,” J.J. said. “Like you. Doesn’t take much to piece us all together. And if they couldn’t, maybe one of their street connections pointed them in his direction. It sure as shit wasn’t me. I swear it to you, Eddie.”
Kenwood nodded and stepped away from J.J. “I would like to believe you,” he said, glancing at the three men waiting off to the side. “I really would. It would make it so much easier if I could. But I have to be honest. The fact is, I don’t. Sorry to say, J.J., but that’s really bad news for you.”
“I’ve been true to you all these years,” J.J. pleaded. “Why would I go and turn you out now? I don’t owe Tank and Pearl. They haven’t done shit for me. But you have. You covered for me, got me a job, and put me on your roll. And I earned the cash you sent my way. My information was tight, that you have to admit.”
Kenwood glanced at J.J. and smiled. “That is on the money, no doubt. If it weren’t, you would have been long gone by now. I would have pinned a homicide on your ass faster than you could flex a muscle. But it still doesn’t mean you aren’t double-dipping, collecting from both me and Tank in return for telling what you know and hear.”
“I’m on your side with this shit that’s about to go down,” J.J. said. He smelled an opening, a last chance at a way out, a long shot at making it to another day.
“Do you know, J.J., what will happen to you if one word of that turns out to be smoke?” Kenwood said.
“Bet your ass I do,” J.J. said. “And I’m not playing you. No way I even think of going down that street. What I said, I mean.”
Kenwood walked around, head down, hands still in his pockets. The three men stood nearby, arms folded across their chests, awaiting instructions. Kenwood stopped, turned, and moved closer to J.J. “I think I figured a way you could prove it to me,” he said. “It would show me whose side you’re really on. If you’re up to it, that is.”
“Anything, man,” J.J. said. “Just name it.”
“I mean, the fastest way would be for my three amigos here to drag your ass to their warehouse and drop you into a vat of acid,” Kenwood said. “That gets you out of my hair and me out of yours quick, easy, and—for me, at least—painless. The other option is a bit more complicated and I would need to set you free, give you the time and space to get it done.”
“Just tell me what it is,” J.J. said, his voice cracking from strain and fear. “I swear to you, whatever it is, it will get done.”
“Are you sure, J.J.?” Kenwood asked.
“A hundred and fifty percent,” J.J. said.
“But you don’t even know what it is I’m going to want you to do,” Kenwood said. “How can you be that certain you’ll get it done?”
J.J. swallowed hard and looked straight at Kenwood. “I’ll do anything for you,” he said. “Anything.”
Kenwood stayed silent for several moments and then nodded. “All right, then, J.J.,” he said. “I’m going to go out on a limb and trust you. I’m going to give you a chance to prove yourself to me. A final chance.”
“Great,” J.J. said. “That’s great to hear. Now, tell me, what do you need me to do?”
“I want you to kill Tank and Pearl,” Kenwood said.
J.J.’s eyes were moist from the heat and the beating, and his body tensed when he heard Kenwood’s request. He kept his focus and tried to maintain some form of composure.
“I saw a little hesitation there, J.J.,” Kenwood said. “If you’re not up to it, no worries. We’ll go the other way, be easier on everybody.”
“No,” J.J. managed to say. “I’ll get it done.”
“Get what done?” Kenwood asked. “I want to hear it from your lips.”
“I’m going to kill Tank Rizzo and Pearl Monroe,” J.J. said, the words coming out in a rush.
“Plan it out the right way, think it out before you move on it,” Kenwood said. “I got a surprise in store for my old pal Tank, and I want to lay that on him before you go and take him and his crippled pal out.”
“What sort of surprise?” J.J. asked.
“One that will rock Tank’s world,” Kenwood said. “One that’s going to rip him apart and show everyone who he really is.”
“But you still want me to kill him, right?” J.J. asked.
“You bet your ass I do,” Kenwood said. “And after I hit him with my news, he’ll probably welcome the bullet.”
“So, I wait on you,” J.J. said. “I’ll scope the job out and then sit back until you give the word.”
Kenwood nodded. “We’ll be on our way. Wait ten minutes and then move your ass out of here, as well. You got important work you need to get started on.”
“I won’t let you down,” J.J. said.
Kenwood looked at J.J. and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me either way. If you kill them, you get to live. If you don’t, you die in their place. It’s a win-win for me.”
J.J. stood against the tree and watched Kenwood and his three accomplices disappear into the darkness of the surrounding woods. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Win-win for you,” he whispered to himself. “But a lose-lose for me.”