Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  “Already done. Come over to our kitchen,” he said, getting up.

  Saint Helen’s was designated a historical landmark. Built in the eighteen hundreds, its architecture was reminiscent of fifth-century Italian basilicas: Old Gothic. The church and attached rectory had a soothing effect on anyone entering the holy structure. Just being there calmed me down. I was glad that brother Dom had suggested meeting here to discuss our plans. As for Dominic, he was the Associate Pastor of the church and had been, for quite a few years, passing up other opportunities to become a pastor at other churches. I knew that being close to his grandfather’s own landmark, Captain O’Brian’s Pub was the reason he had stayed all these years within driving distance to the pub.

  As we walked back, I asked, “By the way, was Agnes here today?’

  “Every day, seven days a week,” he replied, not very excited.

  “You know, I had a talk with her,” I said, grabbing the Mr. Coffee, and pouring myself a cup of java.

  “About what?” he asked, opening a box of Danishes, and setting them on a dinette table.

  “She was curious about your commitment to being a priest. We know she has strong feelings about you.”

  “After over twenty years of being a priest, she still wonders if I’m committed?”

  “Anyway, I pretty much told her that she had to move on with her life. She has to find someone else to fulfill her,” I paused.

  “Her wants, and desires?” Dom filled in the blanks.

  “I think she is in love with you brother, right?”

  “Well, I’ve never given her any indication that she should pursue this. I mean, I like her as a person, but, that’s as far as it goes,” he said, as we both sat down at the table.

  “What if the church were to relax their rules, and allow priests to marry? It is the twenty-first century, is it not?”

  “That’s a whole other topic, isn’t? And frankly, that would make a lot of sense given the dwindling population of priests. But, let’s get back to our agenda, shall we?”

  I grabbed a Danish and took a bite. “This is a good entry into our conversation.”

  “Yeah, why? Dom asked.

  “If we agree to expand our investigation services, I think we are going to need to add staff to our team. And I couldn’t think of anyone better than Agnes, with her computer skills, if you know what I mean.”

  “Like I said, I like her, and I think she has been a key player in what we’ve done. I just don’t want to feel stalked all the time.”

  I laughed and drank my coffee, “I’ll talk to her again if we decide, and if she accepts. I’ll tell her no more stalking of Father Dominic allowed.”

  “I called for the order of the day,” Dom said, sounding like a Parliamentarian. He never enjoyed small talk.

  “Okay. On the NYPD, and the consultant gig. We’re in. All we have to do is meet with the Captain on Monday.”

  “That’s it. We’re in?”

  “Yeah, we have to go through some bureaucratic crap, and boom, we’re consulting.”

  “Great. What about the law firm?”

  “They want us. However, they were a little hesitant to have their principal investigators work out of a pub.”

  “They want us working out of their building?”

  “I said that was not negotiable. We can meet all their clients at their law firm, plus, we might expand our space to accommodate more staff.”

  “You’re sure you want to do that? Don’t you want a more prestigious office space?”

  “Fuck the space, man. All we need is few tables and a couple of computers. I made a commitment to you, to work at the pub. That’s not going to change. Besides, I like the ambiance of the pub to do our thinking. I can have my single malt, and smoke a cigar, as we fight crime.”

  “What about their current investigators?” asked Dom.

  “Larry and Harry? We can bring them on, or use them as needed. It depends on the case load.”

  “We might have another detective wanting to join our team.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Mr. Pat. He’s been studying to get his license.”

  “Hah, what a sneaky guy, that Mr. Pat is.”

  “I’ve known for a while. But he didn’t want to tell you until he passed his test.”

  “To get a PI license in New York, you have to be a principal, or part owner in the firm, and have a minimum of three years’ experience as a cop, or working for another PI.”

  “Mr. Patrick worked one year with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, NCIS. Didn't you know that? Plus, we are both going on two years, he can own a piece of the business. So, he has almost three years, if we count his time with us. In the meantime, he can work for us.”

  “Cool, I like that. Wait until I see him.”

  “Getting back to the agenda. We’re in with the NYPD, and you’ll talk to Bevans and Associates.”

  “They’ll go along with our plan. We proved our worth today.”

  “What about the cigar club?” Dominic asked.

  “I’ll talk to Alan. I don’t think he was in a hurry to sell Dino’s. It was an idea he and his wife had. I like the idea of the club, though.”

  “Push that back if you can. Let’s do one thing at a time,” Dom said, getting up from his chair.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going to get ready to go to Marcy’s.”

  I took a sip of coffee, and said, “About that.”

  38

  Brother Dominic did not allow me to take the easy way out. So, we drove to Marcy’s place.

  Entering Marcy’s apartment, which is like my second home, being that I spend four, or five nights per week there, I felt strange, and out of place. Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez, Marcy’s parents, were there. And, so was Special Agent Tony. I thought to myself, what the fuck.

  Everyone looked real cozy sitting in the living room. I could have sworn Marcy’s expression changed from a smiley face to a frown, when she saw me walk in. But, maybe it was my imagination. Marcy leaned forward, as I leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, and I took a seat that Dom had brought over from the dining room.

  Marcy spoke first, “Tony tells me your plan worked flawlessly this morning.”

  “It did. And, thank you again, Tony, for your help,” I said.

  “That was fun. I was a little worried about procedures, but it all worked out excellent. Happy to hear you’re now consulting for the NYPD,” said Tony.

  Shit, I said to myself. Sometimes too much information is harmful.

  Marcy followed Belford’s comment, “I didn’t know you were already consulting for Captain Johnson?” she asked, smiling, but annoyed.

  “It all happened this morning. We needed to be somewhat official with our questioning of the suspects. I had wanted to tell you now, but I guess the cat is out of the bag.”

  Marcy ignored my statement, “Father, are you also a consultant now?”

  Dominic smiled, “Officially Monday, after we do some paperwork.”

  “That’s wonderful, I’m sure you guys love it,” Marcy added.

  “How are feeling Marcy?’ Dom asked, breaking an awkward momentary silence.

  “Feeling much better. Tony is going to help me in the range, starting next week. He assures me, I’m going to pass the firearms test with his help. And I believe it,” Marcy replied, as she smiled and glanced at f’en Tony.

  This was going well. I was sitting here like a flower in a pot. Except my blood was reaching boiling point. The conversation I wanted to have with Marcy, well, that was not going to happen today.

  “We may also be taking on new cases from a law firm. Joey, why don’t you tell us more about that,” said Dom, in an attempt to bring me into the conversation.

  As much as I wanted to join the conversation, this topic, I thought, was not a good one to expand on. After all, if Marcy resented my newfound opportunities, this would just add more fuel to the fire, I replied, “Maybe we can get some cases here, an
d there, but, that’s not a sure thing.”

  Marcy’s mom, Rosa, said, “I’m going to make some Cuban coffee, Joey, can you help me in the kitchen?”

  My assumption was that she wanted to talk to me privately, because I had no business making Cuban coffee.

  Removed from the living room, and in the privacy of the kitchen, Mrs. Rodriguez spoke in a hushed voice, “Joey, Marcy, is still in a little depression. She is miserable.”

  “I thought she looked better.”

  “She’s always in a bad mood, even with us. She told us to go back to our home. She wants to be alone.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Alberto is very upset with her. The way she treats us. So, we are going home tonight.”

  “Maybe that will work out best for now. I’ll try and come over more often.”

  “You are not going to like this,” she said, frowning.

  “What?”

  “Marcy had me pack your stuff in two boxes. She wants you to take everything with you today,” she added, apologetically.

  “All my clothes, and stuff.”

  “I’m sorry, Joey. I even had to pack your toothbrush.”

  I held my first reaction in check. It was not Rosa’s fault. But, I wanted to curse. My phone rang. “Excuse me, Rosa,” I said, walking away. This is Joey,” I answered, without looking at the caller ID.

  “Joey, Captain Johnson here.”

  “Yes, Captain, what’s up?”

  “We have a problem, buddy.”

  “What is it?”

  “We’ve been interrogating Ms. Francis about the murder. She has an alibi.”

  “What kind of an alibi?”

  “She was at her office until about ten-thirty, the night of the murder.”

  “She did say that. But, no one could corroborate that.”

  “Well, we have her on the fraud, in a conspiracy with Mr. Pearson. She admitted to that. She also admitted to planning to kill Mrs. L., so we have her on conspiracy to commit. But she didn’t pull the trigger, man.”

  “How can you be sure?” I asked, my mind racing, and mentally reviewing all the clues.

  “She pulled out her FOB card reader. The one she uses to gain access to her office and to exit. So, we checked with the security company that manages the building’s entry system, and it checks out. She entered her office at eight that evening, and checked out at ten-thirty that night.”

  “That would not give her time to drive to the Longworth’s,” I said, in a low voice.

  “That, and the fact no one else entered the Longworth’s home after eight, until Harold himself, did at eleven-ten that night. I mean, these two are guilty, but, not of the murder. Now, I think the husband did it.”

  “Shit, Captain, I’m missing something. But for sure, Harold did not do it.”

  “Longworth is not getting out of jail anytime soon.”

  “Jessica Adams,” I said.

  “What about her?”

  “Do you still have Ms. Francis there?’

  “Of course, like I said, she’s being charged with conspiracy to murder, and all the other stuff. We have her on that.”

  “Go back to her, and ask her why she went to the office that night, and not to Sheila’s home, to kill her. If my hunch is right, Jessica Adams called her to meet at the office. Then, she took Geraldine’s date with Sheila, went to the home, and killed her.”

  “You think Mrs. Adams was involved in these tax schemes, and she was a member of the Foundation’s board?”

  “No Captain, this is strictly a case of revenge and jealousy. Mrs. Adams thought her husband was having an affair with Sheila Longworth, so, she seduced Mrs. Longworth, knowing from Geraldine, that Sheila was bisexual. She wanted the satisfaction of getting even with Mr. Adams. In her own sick mind, that was a win. Then, she found out Sheila wanted a divorce, and she thought it was to hook up with Marshall Adams.”

  “You did think that at one time.”

  “Yeah, but I made a mistake. I did look outside the box, just not far enough outside. Shit.”

  “I’ll go back in there, and ask her. But, let me ask you this; what about your theory of the perfume, and Mr. L.’s allergies the night Sheila was shot?”

  “About that, I bet you a dinner at Vinnie’s that Jessica Adams wore a stronger perfume that night, maybe even the same as Geraldine’s. Either to point the finger at Geraldine, or, simply because she knew Sheila Longworth liked it.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “Send a squad car to the Adams’ home. I’m headed there now, tell them to wait for me. Join me there as soon as you can. I’ll text you the address in a minute.”

  “Don’t go in the home by yourself. Wait for the uniforms to arrive. I’ll be there soon.”

  “I won’t,” I said, clicking off my phone, and looking for Adams’ address to text the captain.

  Walking back to the living room, I said, “Folks you’re going to have to excuse me, I need to tend to something quick.”

  “Drink your cafecito, Joey,” said Rosa, with a smile.

  Dom asked, “Something wrong with the case?”

  “It seems I was missing a piece.”

  Special Agent Belford chimed in, “Joey, if you need my help, I’ll be here.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you will,” I said, and added under my breath, asshole.

  I noticed two boxes by the front entrance to the apartment labeled; ‘Joey.’ “Do me a favor Dom, take one of those boxes, I’ll take the other. See you all later.”

  Dom and I walked out, and he asked, “What’s in here?” looking at his box.

  “I’ll tell you later, brother.”

  39

  All the exuberance I felt in the morning had transformed into anger. I was pissed that I had missed the clues on Jessica Adams, and the fact that right now, I needed to be away from Marcy.

  I stepped on the gas of my Mustang, almost giving Dominic a neck injury.

  “Where’re we headed?” Dom asked, recovering from the jolt.

  “To the Adams’ home. Ms. Francis did not kill Sheila. Jessica did.”

  As I drove, I brought Dom up to speed on what had happened.

  Arriving in Sagaponack, Long Island, I located the home of Marshall and Jessica Adams. A sprawling mansion, as most of the homes there, were. A patrol car was parked one house away from the Adams’ home. I pulled up next to the car, lowered my window, and introduced myself to the officers.

  The police officer sitting in the driver’s seat asked, “Mancuso, how do you want to handle this?”

  “Let’s simply walk to the front of the home, and knock on the door,” I replied.

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  I parked my car behind theirs, and all four of us walked to the home. There were two vehicles parked in the driveway; a silver-gray, Bentley convertible, and a dark blue Mercedes Maybach.

  I told the two officers, “Guys, why don’t you take the back, we’ll knock on the door.”

  “We’re looking for a potential murderer, right? Asked one of the officers, whose named tag read John Tinsley.

  “Yes, Tinsley right. Why?”

  “Either of you two armed?”

  “No, we’re not.”

  Tinsley said, “Then we’ll split up. Mancuso, you and I take the back. You, Father, knock on the door with my partner, Russo. Give us five minutes before you do.”

  I nodded. That made a lot of sense. Tinsley and I made our way through the hedges and landscape, until we finally reached the back of the home. The manicured lawn in the back went for at least one-hundred yards, to where there were two tennis courts, side by side. There was an Olympic size infinity pool, after a large keystone patio that had huge glass doors leading to the home. We approached carefully, as Tinsley rested his right hand on his pistol.

  We carefully looked inside, putting our faces close to the glass doors and cupping our hands to remove the glare. What we saw was an expansive family room, or great room, open
ed to the living room, and front foyer of the home. On the right side of the great room, was a bar, and on the opposite end of the room, was a pool table, with a large flat screen television on the wall. As Tinsley and I met in the middle, we could see a grouping of comfortable chairs. There she was, Mrs. Jessica Adams, sitting alone in complete silence, with her head down.

  Tinsley pulled his pistol out and kept it pointed down, as he nodded, and I knocked on the glass door.

  “Mrs. Adams, it’s Joey Mancuso.”

  She didn’t move, or acknowledge the knock.

  “Mrs. Adams, can we come in?”

  No reaction from her. Tinsley asked me, “Is she dead?”

  “Let’s see if we can go in,” I replied, reaching for the door and sliding it open.

  Tinsley now held his pistol with both hands, as we approached Mrs. Adams. In front of her, originally blocked from our outside view, was Mr. Adams, who lay, facing up, in a pool of blood. The right side of his face was blown off, and blood could be seen spattered in an outward fashion, all over the area rug, and beyond, to the marble floor behind him.

  Mrs. Adams still sat there, almost catatonic, holding a silver Smith & Wesson 38 caliber revolver, with her right hand. Tinsley pointed his gun at her. “Mrs. Adams, please drop the weapon.”

  Without even glancing up, she let the revolver slip out of her hand, letting it land on the carpet by her feet. Tinsley moved in and kicked the weapon to one side.

  I carefully examined Mr. Adams, but there was no need to check for a pulse. He was still warm, but, very, very, dead. I went to the front door to let Dominic and Officer Russo in, avoiding the blood on the floor. Captain Johnson arrived as Dom and Russo were walking in. I waited for Johnson to get out of his car.

  “What do we have?” Johnson asked.

  “Looks like Mrs. Adams just killed her husband, Marshall.”

  “Is she here?”

  “We found her here, just sitting, holding the gun.”

  “You were right.”

  “About what?”

  “Mrs. Adams called Geraldine Francis, and told her to meet her, and one other board member at the Foundation’s office that night.”