by Owen Parr
“So, what happened?”
“Geraldine said Jessica called at about nine, and told her they couldn’t make it, they would meet another time. Jessica asked her to put together a list of offshore donors that they wanted to review. So, Geraldine stayed at the office. Then she went home after ten.”
“Jessica kept Geraldine at the office, while she went to Sheila’s home, enjoyed themselves in the tub and shower, then killed her.”
“That’s what it looks like,” Johnson said. “Let’s see what we have, here,” Johnson said, as we walked towards the family room.
Tinsley put his gun away, and asked Mrs. Adams to stand. She got up slowly, still looking at her husband’s body. Tinsley cuffed her hands behind her back and began reading her Miranda rights.
Jessica finally spoke in a whisper, “The son of a bitch still loved her.”
Tinsley asked, “Mrs. Adams, did you understand your rights?”
Jessica nodded in the affirmative.
“Mrs. Adams, did you shoot your husband?” Tinsley asked.
“I killed them both. Now, they can fuck in hell,” she replied sternly, without raising her head.
We all glanced at each other.
I asked Mrs. Adams, “Mrs. Adams, did your husband admit to having an affair with Mrs. Longworth?”
She only repeated, “They can fuck in hell.”
I walked closer to her, and in a low voice, I asked again, “Did he tell you they were having an affair?”
Mrs. Adams shook her head. “He admitted on the stand, to loving her,” she replied, without looking at me.
The Captain said, “Officer, please take her away to your car. Have you called this in?”
“Tinsley replied, “Yes, Captain. Detective Angelo Levy, the crime scene unit, and the coroner are on their way.”
I smiled, “Levy again. He’s going to enjoy this one. All wrapped up for him, just like he likes it.”
“Joey, step out to the driveway with me. Father Dominic, join us.”
We walked out of the home and stood outside.
“Are you guys ready to start on Monday?”
“Captain, you know I have limited time, but I’ll do as much as I can,” Dom said.
Johnson nodded and turned towards me.
“Shit, I have nothing to do. I can start tomorrow. What’ve you got?”
“Three horrific murders.”
“All at once?” I asked.
Johnson replied, “Three different nights, all in about ten days.”
“Serial murderer? I haven’t heard anything.”
“We’re keeping it under wraps. We don’t want to start a city-wide panic.”
“Of course, by we, you mean the Mayor?” I asked, knowing full well the answer. “Who’s on the case now?”
“Detectives Farnsworth and Charles.”
“Oh, Cagney, and Lacey. I’ll bet they’re going to be delighted that I’m getting involved.”
“I’m going to have your old partner, Detective Lucy Roberts, pair up with you on this one. You can use her shield for easier access to whatever you need.”
“Very smart. I love Lucy,” I said smiling.
“Amusing, Mancuso,” Johnson quipped.
Dom asked, “Captain, you said horrific, how so?”
“Three young good looking ladies, all brunettes, two in their late twenties, and one, early thirties. They have anal sex, extreme sex, then, the perp strangles them, and finally slices the top of their breasts to form a cross. Then leaves without any trace.”
“When did this start?” I asked.
“Like I said, in the last ten days,” Johnson replied.
“All in ten days? Dom asked.
The Captain nodded. “Yes, are you in?”
I looked at Dom, then back at the Captain. “We’re in.”
Epilogue
Harold Longworth’s motion for judgment acquittal was successful. He never moved back to his home. He put it up for sale, then bought a condominium in the Upper West Side of Manhattan. His real estate development business is doing very well, and he continues to run the operation. Both his children continue in school. Tom is pursuing a Master’s degree, and Margery has decided to join her Dad in the business, upon graduation. Luisa Sanchez, their longtime housekeeper, continues to work for Mr. Longworth.
Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez, Marcy’s parents, went back to their home in New Jersey. Rosa, her mother, calls Marcy every day to make sure she is alright. Twice a month, they visit Marcy and make her a homemade Cuban meal.
Jessica Adams was convicted of two counts of first-degree felony murder. She was sentenced to life in prison, without the possibility of parole. Had it not been for the moratorium on the death sentence, established by New York Governor Pataki, in nineteen-ninety-five, her fate would have been a lethal needle. She was to spend the rest of her life at Belford Hills Correctional Facility for Women, in the town of Belford, Westchester County, New York, a maximum-security prison for women. Coincidentally, her cell was once occupied by another infamous Long Island prisoner, Amy Fisher, known as the “Long Island Lolita.” Fisher, who served seven years after pleading guilty to first-degree aggravated assault in the shooting of Mary Jo Buttafuoco, the wife of her lover, Joey Buttafuoco, was paroled in 1999.
Geraldine Francis was convicted of conspiracy to commit murder, tax fraud, and racketeering. She was sentenced to fifteen years in prison, at Albion Correctional Facility located in Orleans County, New York. It is a medium security prison that houses up to one thousand, two hundred adult female inmates. In her first month of incarceration, Geraldine requested a sex transformation surgery, but later decided against it, preferring to stay in the all-women facility.
Charles, “Chuck”, Pearson was convicted of conspiracy to commit murder, tax fraud, and racketeering. He was sentenced to twenty years at the Metropolitan Correctional Facility in Manhattan, known as the most secured facility in the prison system. “El Chapo” Guzman is currently a resident of said facility. It is also where Gambino crime boss, John Gotti, and other high-profile inmates resided. Fearing for his life, Pearson cooperated with authorities to reveal all ties with foreign governments and U.S citizens in tax schemes through the Longworth Foundation. As a result of his cooperation, he was moved to the Adirondack Correctional Facility in Ray Brook, New York, a mid-level security prison.
Captain Alex Johnson is delighted that Joey and Father Dom are consultants to his precinct’s homicide division. Especially, in light of the new case with the serial murderer. The Captain prays that Joey’s unconventional methods of investigating don’t fuck up his last few years on the force and planned retirement.
Detectives Farnsworth and Charles were, in fact, dismayed that Mancuso was going to shadow them on the new case. Although Charles liked Mancuso, having partnered with him for a while, Farnsworth was much less enthused by Joey’s methods.
Simon Cohen, the Managing Partner of Bevans and Associates law firm, was not thrilled that Mancuso did not accept the offer to take over the space available in their prestigious building. He didn’t like the idea of their primary investigative team working out of an Irish pub and cigar bar. However, Senior Partner Ruth Goldstein convinced him that regardless of where Mancuso hung his license, he and Father Dom were going to be valuable assets to their law firm.
Inez Hartman, an attorney with Bevans and Associates was looking forward to having Joey work for their law firm. She found out through the grapevine that Joey and Marcy were momentarily apart, and no longer an item. That put a smile on her face.
FBI Special Agent Tony Belford, or GQ, as Joey had labeled him, took over Marcy’s cases while she convalesces. He was working with Marcy with her rehabilitation, and on the range, practicing the firearms test twice a week with her.
FBI Special Agent Marcy Martinez was on paid leave of absence, still suffering from depression. She continued her physical therapy and was working hard to come back one hundred percent from her potential disability to her right arm. She continued her cold-s
houlder, and aloofness towards Joey, although they did speak on the phone every week or so.
Larry and Harry, at first, were troubled with losing their gig with the law firm. Then, they realized that Joey and Father Dom would need them almost all the time. Plus, Joey promised a discount on well drinks and cigars.
Alan Feinstein, the owner of Dino’s Deli, adjacent to Captain O’Brian’s Pub and Cigar Bar, was not successful in securing a buyer for the deli. Instead, he opted to sub-lease the space to Joey and Dominic, so they could proceed with opening the cigar club, and space for their investigative service. Feinstein retired to Costa Rica.
Patrick Sullivan, or Mr. Pat, the red-bearded, Irish identity of the pub, passed his private investigator’s test and was looking forward to entering yet another phase of his life. He was also looking for a replacement manager for the pub. And while concerned about the equal employment regulations, they were secretly holding out for an Irish sounding manager, with red hair, and hopefully, a red beard.
Agnes Smith, the white-hat computer expert, and researcher, agreed to give up her boring fifteen years of working at a life insurance company, in hopes of being part of an energetic and eclectic group, investigating homicides. She began dating a parishioner at Saint Helen’s Church, whom she met during her daily ‘stalking’ of Father Dominic’s morning Masses. She still had hopes that Father Dominic, one day, would extricate himself from the church, and his vows of celibacy.
Father Dominic O’Brian, Associate Pastor at Saint Helen’s in Brooklyn, part owner of a pub, and licensed private investigator, continued enjoying wearing multiple hats. He was happy to see Agnes found herself a partner, although she was still there every morning for his six-thirty Mass. He was full of anticipation and ready to get started on the new case that Captain Johnson has asked them to consult on.
Giuseppe "Joey" Mancuso, was in a funk. On the one hand, he was excited about having exonerated Harold Longworth, and to see the happy faces of Margery, his daughter, and her brother Tom. Thrilled, with the check he had received from Longworth, for solving the case and very enthused about the new opportunities that had landed on their door. But, on the other hand, terribly sad, and somewhat depressed, about his break up with Marcy. He was willing to give her the space she had requested, but a bit impatient with her attitude. His hope was that things could get back to normal with her. At the same time, he was not liking GQ’s, or Belford’s closeness to Marcy. In consulting with a shrink, who is a patron of the pub, the doctor told Joey that it was very normal for Marcy to develop some feelings towards GQ. Since he had been next to her when she was shot in the plane, and he had immediately assisted her, when she thought she might be dying. Joey was not going to give up on Marcy, and was going to keep a close eye on GQ Tony.
THE END
A Note from Owen Parr
Thank you for taking the time to read: A Murder on Long Island. I trust you enjoyed it. I want to thank my editor, Mrs. Kathy Rothenberger, for her guidance and meticulous review. Artist; Island, at Selfpubookcovers.com for a great book cover. And the many experts, attorneys, and law enforcement personnel that assisted me with the research. As I always say, in spite of the research, I may have taken some liberties, and any mistakes, or inconsistencies are my own. All authors appreciate reviews on their works, and yours, would be greatly appreciated on Amazon.com. Thank you again.
Please visit my website at www.owenparr.com for my other titles, and the next Mancuso, O’Brian Crime Mystery Novel.
Other titles by Owen Parr
Due Diligence —An International Political Thriller
Operation Black Swan —A John Powers International Intrigue -Book 1
The Dead Have Secrets —A John Powers International Intrigue - Book 2
A Murder on Wall Street —A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery –Book 1
A Murder on Long Island —A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery –Book 2
The Manhattan Red Ribbon Killer —A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery –Book 3
The case of the Antiquities Collector — A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery –Book 4
How To Sell, Manage Your Time, Overcome Fear of Rejection —A non-fiction, Self-Improvement Book
All titles available at Amazon.com, BarnesandNoble.com, or, visit our website at www.owenparr.com
Write the author at: [email protected]
THE MANHATTAN RED RIBBON KILLER
A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery Book 3
By
Owen Parr
THE MANHATTAN RED RIBBON KILLER
BOOK 3
A Joey Mancuso and Father O’Brian Crime Mystery
Author: Owen Parr
Published by: Owen Parr
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
ISBN- 13:9781979273800
ISBN-10:1979273804
Copyright © 2017 by: Owen Parr
Published in United States
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Owen Parr
To New York’s First Responders
&
The spirit of New Yorker’s
“New York Strong”
Prologue
Ten days passed, and the NYPD still hadn’t found any clues to what they quietly tagged as “the case of the Manhattan Red Ribbon Killer.” They wracked their brains over the small amount of evidence, hoping to find something—anything—that would bring them closer to a breakthrough in the mysterious and brutal deaths of three young professional ladies. The MO, or modus operandi, was the same: they were killed in their Manhattan apartments. At first, it appeared like a case of extreme sex gone wrong. Choking during sex led to the accidental death of the first victim, followed by the partner vanishing. Ditto for the second and third victims. While the form of sex and the choking seemed consensual with the first victim, the last two were entirely different: strangulation and breasts sliced in the shape of a cross.
My brother, Father Dominic O’Brian, Associate Pastor at Saint Helen’s Church in Brooklyn and a part-time private investigator like and I, had just been hired as consultants to the NYPD’s Homicide Division—my old precinct in New York City.
I’m Giuseppe Mancuso, but everyone knows me as Joey. After sixteen years in the NYPD, I had reached the status of First Grade Detective. During my last year at the force, I pissed off some politicos with juice. In response to my supposedly “lack of proper police procedures,” the IAD, or Internal Affairs Division, concocted some charges against me as a means-to-an-end style of bringing the perps to justice. Admittedly, I’m not without sin. Regardless, every one of my cases led to a clean conviction and, most importantly for me, justice for the victims. As an NYPD detective I had the best ratio of solved cases in all of New York City, and even better, I took pride for having earned the moniker “The Last Advocate” for the victim.
Captain Alex Johnson had asked my brother Dom and me to consult for the NYPD after getting the go-ahead from Police Commissioner O’Malley and, I’m sure, the Mayor himself. It was like a “we owe you” kind of gesture after our PI investigations solved three homicides that the NYPD had overlooked last year.
My brother Dom and I were paired off with First Grade Detective Mrs. Lucy Roberts, my former partner whom I lovingly called Lucifer. Lucy had one more year to put in before she could call it quits. I was excited to be working with her again. When I was a rookie detective, she had been my mentor, grooming me to be relentless in the pursuit of perps and to in bringing justice to the vics.
“Mu
rder is not about lust and it’s not a about violence. It’s about possession.”
Theodore Robert Bundy – Convicted and executed serial killer, kidnapper, rapist, burglar, and necrophile.
1
As promised, I made it into my old precinct, Midtown Precinct South, by eight in the morning. This was a coveted post to work from. Many of the officers who served here ended up being top brass. Known as “a union house,” the precinct was heavily influenced, or should I say controlled, by the Police Benevolent Association. Right now, that was neither here nor there. I was back, and I loved it.
“Never enough layers, Joey,” my Mom used to say. Her words still ring through just as they did back then. I was happy to be indoors in the warmth of the precinct. The thirty-degree city temperature made me shiver like a swimmer whose body smacks into the cold air after basking in a heated pool.
It was Monday, and the phones were ringing off the hook. I immediately felt at home. A steady stream of energy was constant in the station—people coming and going; perps being interrogated; others filing complaints; the colorful lady pros always insisting it was merely consensual and all. The lingering scent—the smell of burnt coffee, leftover food, and other usual mystery odors—that hung heavily in the detective squad was still there, just as I remembered it. Nothing much had changed since my year’s absence. After some handshakes and well wishes from the old gang, I sat in a stark conference room waiting for Lucy.
