Waldron looked annoyed. Clearly, this meeting was not something he wanted to be doing.
He dropped a thin manila folder on the table and sat across from Walter. He turned to his aide and said, “Come back and get me in ten minutes, Ernie.”
The young man left without a word.
Waldron turned back to Pearce and said, “Why am I here?”
Walter suppressed the urge to say, If you don’t know, why the fuck should I? He dropped his paperwork on the table.
“I work for a man by the name of Frederick Milstein. He’s runs a small brokerage firm.” Walter pushed the paperwork he had for James Beck toward Waldron. “This is information on a man named James Beck. He assaulted Mr. Milstein in Central Park Tuesday night. He threatened him and tried to extort a large sum of money from him.”
“How large?”
“Over six hundred-thousand dollars.”
Waldron squinted at Pearce. “Who did you say did this?”
Walter pointed to the folder. “Name is James Beck.”
“How the fuck did he expect to get six hundred grand from, what’s his name?”
“Frederick Milstein. He claimed it was compensation for a woman that Milstein fired. He threatened to kill Milstein if he didn’t pay.”
“Who can corroborate that?”
“I was there, but they were too far away for me to hear the threat. Mr. Milstein will testify on the extortion, plus he’ll testify that the man choked him until he nearly passed out and threatened to kill him if he didn’t pay. You’ll note that James Beck was incarcerated for killing a police officer.”
That got Waldron’s attention. “What?” He grabbed Beck’s folder and started skimming through the pages.
“He was eventually found not guilty, but the fact remains, he killed one of ours.”
“Who the hell is this guy?”
“He’s someone associated with known felons.” Walter pushed the second folder across the desk. “Including this man. Name’s Ciro Baldassare. He’s organized crime. Record goes back to when he was a teenager. He held a gun on me while Beck threatened Milstein. Told me he’d blow off my head if I moved. He’s a convicted felon. Long record of assaults and weapons charges. He can go right back to jail just on possession of a firearm. I’ll testify to that.”
Waldron was still thinking about Beck.
“What the fuck is a cop killer doing out on the streets?”
Walter shrugged. “Like I said, his conviction was overturned. Brady due-process stuff. Apparently, not only did the DA’s office withhold exculpatory evidence, they actually suppressed a witness. Plus, the judge overreached on the jury instructions. It was a manslaughter charge. A bar fight. Beck didn’t know it was a cop. They took it to trial. Nailed him, but his lawyer got the conviction overturned. Beck did eight years of hard time before he was released.” Walter decided not to mention Beck’s successful lawsuit against the city.
Waldron squirmed in his chair. He frowned, stared at the documents on the table.
“We have warrants?”
“Milstein’s lawyers already got it done with Central Warrants.”
Waldron watched as Walter laid the arrest warrants on the room table as if playing his final cards.
“You know why I’m talking to you?”
Walter shrugged. “Milstein said somebody in his law firm is a friend of yours.”
“Not anymore he ain’t. Dumping this crap on me. All right, stop bullshitting me…” Waldron squinted at Walter’s visitor’s pass. “… Pearce. What the fuck is really going on here? And what’s your involvement? You retired as what, detective?”
“Yes. Three years now. My involvement is simple. I work private security. I’m Milstein’s driver/bodyguard.”
“Why’s some Wall Street hump need a bodyguard?”
“He doesn’t. At least not until now. He just likes the idea of someone with a gun driving him around. This is the first time anything like this has happened to him since I’ve been working for him. My two cents, these assholes are bad guys and it’s a good thing you got an excuse to put them back in jail.”
“We got plenty of bad guys we can put in jail.”
“So these two made it to the top of the list. But no bullshit—they aren’t choirboys. I saw them operate this extortion. They worked it smoothly. So I wouldn’t plan on just knocking on their door and bringing them in. I’d be prepared.”
“That’s what you think?”
Walter gauged Waldron’s comment for animosity and didn’t quite know how much was there. The chief seemed to be a man who was perpetually pissed off. He answered simply, “Yes, sir.”
Waldron softened. He seemed to have realized he was going to have to take care of this and figured he’d better get what he could from Pearce.
“So you wouldn’t recommend this just be a regular Warrants Squad.”
“No, sir. I would plan on more than that.”
“Fuck.”
Walter was about to say more, but he kept his mouth shut.
The chief checked his watch, gathered up the documents, and stood up to leave.
“Both of them are at this address.”
“That’s how it looks.”
“How it looks?”
“That’s where Beck lives. I’m pretty sure you’ll find Baldassare there, too. And there’s a good chance a few others that you can arrest.”
“Tell your boss we’ll serve the warrants. If they’re at this location, we’ll arrest them. If not, tell him he can go fuck himself.”
Walter ventured a question.
“When do you think you’ll do it?”
“What? You pushing me now?”
Walter shrugged. “I just need something to say to Milstein. He’ll be pushing me for an answer.”
Waldron looked at his watch again. “I don’t want this hanging over me. I’ll put the word out now. We’ll do it wee hours of the morning, Friday. Hopefully these knuckleheads will be tucked in sleeping.”
“I’ll tell Mr. Milstein.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Waldron left without another word.
Walter decided he’d call Milstein from where he sat, then get a steak downtown somewhere. Have a couple of glasses of wine, go home, and sleep. It was out of his hands now.