Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  Father Dominic said, “Explain to our guests. If this was a regular occurrence with Mrs. Longworth and Ms. Francis meeting at the home, for whatever it is they did, how did they risk not having Mr. Longworth walk in on them?

  “Excellent question, Padre. If you look closely at the crime scene photos, you’ll see an iPad on Mrs. Longworth’s night table. If I wanted to track your location, and you had an iPhone, like the Longworths both did, then all I would need is your username and password. Having that, with an iPad, or, iPhone, I can enter your information on mine, using the app, Find iPhone. Your location is going to show up immediately. And, when you begin walking, or driving, it will show your movement.”

  Dom followed up, “Okay Sherlock, if that’s the case, why did the killer, Ms. Francis, wait until the last minute to leave the home?”

  “Another good question, Father Dom,” I said, taking another sip from my wine. “Mr. Longworth had told his wife he would leave his office around eleven that evening, so the couple assumed he would not be home until about midnight. However, they must have looked at the iPad just around eleven that night, and noticed that Mr. L. was on the move, ahead of schedule.”

  Johnson was enjoying the meal and listening to my brilliant deductions. He put his silverware down, and said, “Great, you have Ms. Francis at the home, that’s the opportunity. What’s the motive? Jealousy?”

  I smiled, “At one point, I thought that was the motive, weak as it could have been. But then, Special Agent Belford,” I said, turning to face Tony, “provided me with the motive.”

  “Which is?” Dom asked.

  “Tony found that the FBI and the IRS were both looking into the Longworth Foundation for improprieties, more than likely committed by Ms. Francis and Mr. Pearson,” I responded.

  “Wow,” said Belford.

  “I’m good, right?” I said, turning to Tony.

  “No, I’m referring to this veal scaloppini. It’s excellent, right Captain?” quipped Agent Belford.

  “Sure is, Tony,” Johnson quipped back.

  “Amusing, very funny,” I said, laughing along with them.

  Johnson said, “In all seriousness, all you have is circumstantial evidence. Nothing proves that Geraldine, or, for that matter, any of the other three, did it.”

  “I know,” I replied, “This is where you guys come in.”

  “Oh, oh,” Johnson said, swallowing a sip of Chianti, and putting his glass down, “Sounds like you have one of your capers planned. The same type of shit that ended up in IAD.”

  Belford straightened up, and asked, “Internal Affairs Division has a file on you?”

  “Nothing to worry about, Tony. They can stick it up, you know where. I’m no longer on the force.”

  Belford glanced at Captain Johnson, who was shaking his head sideways.

  “Okay, Joey, what is it you want us to do, arrest Ms. Geraldine?” Johnson asked.

  Taking another sip of the Chianti, I said, “I wish it were that simple. Here is what I want to do, and how you guys can help.”

  36

  Saturday, January 8th

  Vinnie had not allowed me to pay for the dinner, or the three bottles of Chianti we consumed the night before. We left the restaurant around eleven that evening, hoping to put our plan of action in motion today. However, we needed the unsolicited cooperation of Mr. Pearson and Ms. Francis, if it was going to come together on a Saturday.

  I had a feeling, that since both had spent a couple of days at the trial and away from their offices, they may want to catch up on their work on Saturday. Neither Captain Johnson nor Special Agent Belford felt comfortable about my out-of-box plan, but after three bottles of wine, they acquiesced to go along with me on this. I had agreed with both, that ideally, Saturday would be the best day for them, since neither one of them had to report to their respective work locations.

  I had asked Agnes, our research guru and computer white-hat, to call both Pearson and Geraldine, around ten in the morning to confirm they were in. After calling them both, and telling them she had the wrong number, she called me with the nod to go ahead. Immediately, I called Johnson and Belford and told them we were on, as planned. The fact that both Pearson’s and Geraldine’s offices were in the same building in Manhattan made my plan easier to bring to fruition.

  I had positioned myself on the sidewalk, a few yards from the entrance to the building. Belford was to arrive at the building first, park a few yards from the entrance, and stay in his car. Johnson, was to follow, also staying in his vehicle until I gave him a signal.

  Entering Belford’s car, I said, “Go ahead Tony, make the call, and put her on speaker.”

  Tony dialed Geraldine’s number.

  “This is the Longworth Foundation, Geraldine Francis speaking, how may I help you?” she answered.

  I nodded to Tony.

  “Ms. Francis, this is FBI Special Agent Tony Belford, with New York’s White Collar Crime Division, good morning to you.”

  “Oh, how can I help you?”

  “I have a few questions for you, I wonder if you can come down, and meet me in front of your building?”

  She asked, “Are you here now?”

  “Yes, I am. It will only take a few moments.”

  Sounding a bit concerned, she said, “That’s a bit irregular. Why don’t you come up to my office?”

  “This will only take a couple of minutes. It’s strictly unofficial, and I wanted to do it this way, so that it can remain informal. I’ll meet you in front of the building,” he said, assertively.

  “Okay, how will I recognize you?” she asked.

  I thought to myself, A pigeon in New Jersey could recognize GQ Belford, standing here in Manhattan.

  “I’ll know you, Ms. Francis. And I’ll have my credentials ready.”

  “Very well, I’m on my way down.”

  I said to Tony, “Great job, partner. Let me go give Johnson the signal.”

  “You realize, Joey,” Belford started, “this may be the last time I use my creds. I may be unemployed tomorrow.

  “Tomorrow is Sunday, nobody works. You’ll keep them until Monday for sure,” I said, laughing, and reached for the door.

  Johnson had parked across the street, as planned. I walked around to the passenger’s side and sticking my head through the open window, I said, “Go ahead make your call.”

  Captain Johnson was a little apprehensive about my charade, and said, “I’m never going to make it to retirement with you pulling this shit, Joey.”

  “This is going to work just fine. “Plus, I’m a consultant with the NYPD, and we’re on a case. So, what's the problem?” I asked, moving away from the window.

  “Wait a second,” Johnson blurted, “You accepted our offer?”

  “I’m in. If we need to sign something, we’ll backdate it, and do it later. So, relax Captain. But, we need to work on my fees, I don’t know what you guys pay.”

  Johnson called Mr. Pearson. The called went almost identical to that of Belford’s, with Geraldine. With Pearson, finally agreeing to come down.

  Almost on cue, Geraldine walked out of the building. Belford introduced himself, and as planned, asked her to sit in the car with him for a few minutes. She did.

  I waited out of sight, as Pearson also walked out. Captain Johnson, standing a few yards away from Belford’s car, greeted Pearson, flashing his creds. They both walked to the captain’s car and sat.

  The plan was to have Belford ask Ms. Francis about Pearson. In the other car, Johnson was to do the opposite, for a few minutes. Now it was my turn to do my thing.

  I entered Johnson’s car and sat in the back seat. The moment I did, I noticed Pearson’s strong scent of cologne.

  Pearson was startled for a moment, and turning to look back, he said, “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “Hey Chuck, how you doing’?”

  “This is bullshit, bullshit. I’m getting out,” he said, as he reached for the door.

  “Before you do, Ch
uck,” I said, sternly, “I want you to look at the car parked across the street, the black one. You see it?”

  He glanced at it. “So, what?”

  “Well, Chuck, the lady in the front seat is Geraldine Francis. The man behind the wheel is a special agent with the FBI. The white-collar crime division of the FBI,” I let that sink in, as Pearson sat back momentarily. “Right now, Geraldine is spilling her guts about the scheme you both concocted to take over the Foundation.”

  “You’re full of shit, full of shit,” he retorted.

  “Not only is she coming clean with the fraud scheme, because the FBI is offering her a deal, but, Ms. Francis has fingered you as the shooter, the killer, Chuck, of Mrs. Longworth.”

  “I did not kill Mrs. Longworth, I did not kill Mrs. Longworth.”

  “You know what Chuck? I tend to believe that. But, Geraldine is saying it was you that concocted all the various tax schemes; the fraudulent tax receipts, the laundering. Plus, plus, to keep Sheila Longworth quiet, and not expose the schemes, you came over that night and shot her to death. You killed Sheila!” I said, loudly into his ear.

  It was in the thirties outside, but Chuck Pearson had begun to sweat profusely.

  I touched Captain Johnson on the shoulder, “Captain.”

  Johnson got my cue, and read Pearson his Miranda rights, and followed with, “Having read you your rights, Mr. Pearson, if you cooperate, and come clean with us now, this can be a lot easier on you, going forward.”

  Pearson sat there stunned, removing the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. “Look, I allowed Geraldine to do what she did with the donors. That is, the tax fraud and money laundering. She had been doing it before when she was a trust officer at a bank, —”

  I interrupted, “But, it was you that took it a step further with the government of Haiti, and its president, plus all the other stuff. Then you killed Sheila.”

  “No, no. It was Geraldine who killed Sheila, she killed her, that night. She tried talking Sheila out of exposing us. But, she wouldn’t do it. She was going to speak to the IRS. I tried, I tried…” his voice went silent.

  “You tried what, Chuck?” I asked, hitting the front seat of the car with my hand.

  “I tried to tell Geraldine not to do it, not to do it. But she killed her, she killed her.”

  Captain Johnson asked, “You saw her killing Mrs. Longworth?”

  Pearson looked at Johnson, “What? No, no, I wasn’t there. She told me she was going to kill her if Sheila insisted on talking to the FBI. Oh, my God.”

  “Will you testify to that, and admit your role, Mr. Pearson?” asked Johnson.

  Pearson put his head down, drops of sweat still poured from his forehead, “Yes, I will. Yes, I will, but I want a deal.”

  I smiled, and dialed Tony Belford’s cell phone, “Special Agent, you have the shooter in your car. Mr. Pearson has admitted to his involvement and will testify. Arrest her please.”

  37

  A feeling of exuberance is what I had, as both Mr. Pearson and Ms. Francis were driven away in separate patrol cars. They both were about to be charged with conspiracy to murder, and murder, respectively, plus a bunch of other offenses. I said my goodbyes to Belford and the Captain, thanking them both for their participation. Captain Johnson made sure I would stop by the precinct, first thing Monday morning, to formalize our consulting agreement, and my licensed investigator partner’s, Father Dominic, to consult for the NYPD.

  I called Ruth Goldstein on her cell, to give her the good news, but all I got was her voice mail. I thought of calling Inez Hartman, but decided against it. Then, I called her anyway.

  “This is Inez Hartman.”

  “Inez, Joey here.”

  There was silence, more liked iced silence, for a few seconds.

  “Inez?”

  “Yes, what can I do for you, Mancuso?”

  “I have excellent news. I tried calling Ruth, but all I got was her voice mail.”

  “She’s at the Hamptons, with family. Won’t be back until Monday.”

  “Good for, —” I started to say, as she interrupted.

  “I’m in the middle of something, what is it that you want to tell her?” she said, coldly.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I wanted to tell you both that Geraldine Francis has been arrested, and charged with the murder of Sheila Longworth. Plus, Mr. Chuck Pearson, with conspiracy to murder. Plus, a bunch of other stuff.”

  She changed her attitude just a bit, and asked, “When did this happen?”

  “A few moments ago. The FBI and the NYPD collaborated on this. Mr. Pearson gave up Geraldine as the shooter, and has agreed to testify against her.”

  “Did you have anything to do with this?” she inquired.

  “But of course, I did.”

  “I guess the nickname the press gave you, ‘The Last Advocate’, is well deserved. How did you put this together so quick?”

  “I had all the pieces of the puzzle together, but I needed the suspects to cooperate with a little scheme I concocted. And, long story short, they did this morning.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Actually, good for Harold, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “How long do you guys have to file a motion for judgment acquittal?”

  “We have two weeks, but we’ll do it on Monday. Maybe even tomorrow. I’ll call Ruth.”

  “Can you call Harold and his kids?”

  “Tell you what, we’ll call Harold. You go ahead and call Margery, and her brother. After all, it was her idea to hire you.”

  “Nice, yes. I’ll do that. Thank you.” I wanted to say more, but I didn’t know where to start.

  Inez took the lead, “Joey, I’m sorry I’ve been acting a little standoffish with you. I have no reason to be upset.”

  “About that. Look, I have a few things going on in my life, —” she cut me off.

  “I don’t need any explanations. It was my fault, I’m attracted to you, and I acted a bit aggressively. Won’t happen again.”

  “No apologies needed, Inez. You’re a very attractive lady, and perhaps in another time, or another place, things could have been different.”

  She laughed, “Sounds like you’re plagiarizing a movie there.”

  “Really? I thought I was original. Maybe not. But, I do mean that.”

  “Thank you. Point taken. Let me call Ruth, and we’ll talk, as soon as I know how she wants to handle this. Hey, great work.”

  “Thank you, and have a good weekend.”

  I felt much better about clearing the air with Inez. Should I decide to take their cases in the future, I wanted this relationship to work on a professional level.

  I called brother Dom and gave him the good news. He was ecstatic and wished he had been with me this morning.

  “Joey, are you at the pub?”

  “No, I was headed that way, why?”

  “Why don’t you come over to the church, and we can talk here?”

  “Church?” I inquired.

  “Yeah, that’s a big place with pews, stained glass windows, statues, and much more.”

  “I got it. You’re amusing, brother. Okay, I’ll come over. Let’s discuss the idea of the cigar club, and taking cases from Bevans and Associates.”

  “Plus, the offer from your Captain about consulting for the NYPD.”

  “About that,” I paused, “never mind, we’ll talk there.”

  “Joey, let’s go visit Marcy after, alright?”

  “Good idea. See you in a few.”

  As I drove to Saint Helen’s to meet up with brother Dom, I ran a few things through my mind. I was excited that we completed the case by exonerating Mr. Longworth, and that the real killer would be facing the outcome of their actions. At the same time, I was ready to move on to a bigger role in our investigation efforts. The opportunities were there; work with the NYPD as consultants, and at the same time, expand our case load, via the Bevans and Associates law firm. T
hese two were enticing to me, and in a smaller way, to Father Dom, for I knew his love for crime solving.

  The other two issues that remained pending needed more thought; should we expand our pub and cigar bar, into a bigger operation, by building out a cigar club. And, one that I was apprehensive about; my relationship with Marcy.

  The expansion of our pub into a full-blown cigar club was more of a business decision we would make, looking at the possibility to increase our bottom line versus expenses. However, was Patrick Sullivan, now in his late sixties, willing to take on more responsibilities? I asked myself. Mr. Pat was like family, he had been involved in the family business since his return from the Vietnam War, always alongside Dom’s father, Brandon, and then us.

  Marcy’s status with me was a bit more complicated. Twice we had discussed marriage, and twice we had postponed taking the final step. I, for one, was ready, but was she?

  I arrived at Saint Helen’s, and before stepping out of the car, I called Margery, Harold Longworth’s daughter, and gave her the news, followed by the steps Ruth and Inez were taking. The joy she expressed made me feel blessed that I had been involved in this case. I could only imagine the anxiety and fear she, and her brother had experienced, by having lost their mother in a brutal shooting, and then, having her father charged and convicted with the heinous crime.

  Walking into the rectory, I found brother Dominic lounging in an easy chair. “Tough day at the church, brother?”

  “Nothing as exciting as what you did this morning,” he replied, putting down the newspaper he was reading. “We have a few Danishes, left over from our breakfast after Mass. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving, bro. Can you make some fresh coffee?”