Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  “May I have a drink?” Thomas asked, his hands trembling a bit as she reached for his cigarettes and the lighter.

  “Vodka?” I asked.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  I nodded to Patrick.

  “Were you aware of what your son did?”

  “Now you want me to be a part of these murders? Of course not.”

  “Where is your wife, Mr. Wetherly?”

  “She flew to Hilton Head this morning with an attorney.”

  “Who is the attorney, if I may ask, Mr. Wetherly?”

  “Sam Cohen from Bevans & Associates.”

  I glanced around at Patrick, Dom, and Agnes, who opened their eyes widely, as if choreographed. Shit, how’s that going to play out? I thought. My phone rang as Patrick brought Thomas his vodka. “Excuse me a minute,” I said, getting up and walking to the office.

  “Joey, this is Ruth Goldstein. We have a problem. A Mr. Thomas Wetherly is headed to your office.”

  I closed the door separating the office from the pub and stood in front of the two-way mirror overlooking the pub. I wanted to keep an eye on Thomas. “You’re a little late, Ruth. He’s here now.”

  Ruth Goldstein was the managing partner at Bevans & Associates, the law firm we did investigations for.

  “Joey, he was a bit agitated when I spoke to him. Is everything all right?”

  “Well, he’s calmer now and sitting down with a drink. I think that might take the edge off. You guys are representing the kid, Alexander Wetherly?”

  “Yes. Sam Cohen, one of our senior partners, is in South Carolina now. What is going on?”

  I gave Ruth the rundown of what had happened in Daufuskie Island, and all she kept saying was, “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

  “I think this kid is in trouble. I’m sorry I was the one who uncovered this mess.”

  “Don’t be, Joey. From what you said, you closed six unsolved murders. At least this kid didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Yeah, but—” I stopped short. I was going to add that he may have known of the murders before they happened. For sure he knew that they happened and said nothing.

  “But what?” she asked.

  “Nothing, never mind. Is he going to make bail?”

  “He already did. He’s flying back to New York with his mother and Cohen. What about these rapes. Do you have two victims ready to testify?”

  “No. They are alleged victims that Carmelite, the last murder victim’s wife, told me about. Don’t really know if they would come forward and press charges.”

  “But, you told the kid they were ready to come forward.”

  Shit. “Did I? I don’t remember that specifically,” I said, not very proud of myself.

  “Okay. I see what you did. Never mind. I guess I can’t use your team to investigate this, you being a witness for the prosecution and all.”

  “I understand. At least the kid has a good law firm representing him.”

  “What’s this thing about you being a reporter and using an alias?”

  I sighed. “Ruth, I’m involved my father’s murder case. I was there posing as a journalist.”

  “Is the senior Alexander Wetherly your suspect?”

  “I don’t have a suspect yet. But somehow the Wetherlys and their partner Stevens are involved. I can’t say much more than that.”

  “My god. Knowing you, this family has problems.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. They may have nothing to do with it. How did you get to represent the kid?”

  “Sam Cohen is an old friend of senior and the family.”

  “I see.”

  “I don’t suppose you can keep me posted on your case, your dad’s murder that is?”

  “Somehow I think that might be a conflict. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yeah, I do. I do. Marcy was with you on this island?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, I’ll see you both at the deposition.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Oh, and Joey.”

  “Yep.”

  “Get ready for Cohen. He’s a pit bull.”

  “Aren’t you all,” I quipped. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Is this going to put a strain on our relationship with your law firm?”

  “We’ll see. It’s going to be up to the partners at some point. Bye, Joey.”

  Just what I wanted to hear. Our most significant source of revenue may be in jeopardy. Other than the consulting gig with the NYPD’s Midtown South Precinct, which was not as lucrative in fees. We had agreed not to take any other criminal cases from other law firms. Thus, we had no other significant clients.

  Father Dom walked into the office. “I have to run, Joey. I guess the plan just changed concerning this investigation, right?”

  “Yeah, brother in a major way. I’ll call you later and brainstorm some more. Go save some souls.”

  I walked back to the pub. Thomas Wetherly was on his second vodka and smoking up a storm. But, he was calm and breathing normally. Thomas reminded me of the comedian Dennis Miller, back in the good days of the TV show Saturday Night Live. He had long brown hair down to his shoulders, maybe five-ten and thin. Definitely fit in with the artsy group, if he was still an artist of some kind.

  “Is there anything else we can get you, Mr. Wetherly?” I asked, trying to get him on his way.

  “How much do I owe for the drinks?” he asked, putting out his fourth cigarette, from what I could tell by looking at the ashtray.

  “There on the house, sir. Perhaps a bottle of water to go?” Patrick replied.

  Thomas glanced at Patrick and then back at me. “Tell me, Mancuso, why were you talking to my father using another name?”

  To tell or not to tell. I decided to play the journalist angle a little longer. “About that. I dabble in freelance journalism, and I was writing a story on Richard Stevens, your father’s partner. I was filling in some backstory for the article.”

  “But why the alias?”

  “That’s the pen name I use for the articles I write. I understand you’re an artist?” I asked, steering the conversation away from the subject.

  He chuckled. “I have a small studio in Chelsea. Not going to find my shit at The Met or Christie’s though.”

  I grabbed my phone, pretending I had a call, “Oops, I have another call coming in,” I said.

  I waved at him, heading back to the office.

  “Not a problem,” Patrick said, extending his arm in the direction of the front door.

  I walked back into the pub as Thomas exited.

  Patrick approached me with eyes wide open, “Now what, lad?”

  I rubbed my right ear. “We play it by ear.”

  24

  I navigated to my contacts and dialed Marcy, putting the phone on speaker. “Hey lover what are you doing?” she answered.

  “Back at you. Guess who just left the pub?”

  “Joey, I’m working. Tell me.”

  “Thomas Wetherly, the son of young Alexander.”

  “Oh my gosh. They’ve already connected you to the case?”

  “Yep. So, that changes our approach to the family.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Working on an angle. But listen, I need you to find out if the investment firm Wetherly Stevens has ever had any issues with the Feds. Investigations, et cetera. Also, see if you can find anything on your end about Susana Roth. She’s registered with the SEC, but we’ve hit a black-hole with her past.”

  “Sure. Tell Agnes to check on FINRA, the Federal Industry Regulatory Agency. Their website can give dates of registration and if there were any client complaints.”

  “Good. I’ll have her do that.”

  “Tell me, was this guy pissed?”

  “Pissed and drunk. I thought we were going to have a problem, but Father Dom diffused it pretty quickly.”

  “What did he say?”

  “First, he wanted to know
why I did what I did to his son. Then he accused me of playing games with his father with my Perego alias.”

  “Was his wife with him?”

  “No. She was down in Hilton Head bailing the kid out. And, there’s more. The attorney for the kid is Sam Cohen, who is a senior partner at Bevan & Associates.”

  “Oh no. How’s that going to play out?”

  “Ruth called. She wasn’t too happy with the whole thing. Our future consulting gig with the law firm could be up in the air.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “She said it would be up to the partners, depending on the outcome. Plus, get ready for a depo from Sam Cohen.”

  “They’re going to depose us?”

  “Of course, they are.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “I think we covered all the angles on our end. The kid was read his Miranda rights.”

  “But, we didn’t have any of the alleged rape victims ready to testify.”

  “Well, if I have to go back and get Carmelite to help me identify them, I will.”

  “So, what are you going to do now?”

  “We have to rethink our approach to this whole thing. I still have Octavio following the Stevenses. I’m calling him to see if he can do more research on Sofia Puig, Stevens’s wife.”

  “Okay. Let me see what I can get on these people. You want me to pick you up before I head home?”

  “Call me. Let’s see where am at with this. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  I clicked Marcy off and located the number for Octavio. It was noon in New York, so six in the evening in Barcelona.

  After dialing and waiting for the overseas call to connect, Octavio answered on the third ring. “Señor Joey, how are you?”

  We exchanged pleasantries for a couple of minutes and got back on business. “How’s the surveillance?”

  “Good, good. I stopped yesterday. I think we have all we want. These two are creatures of habit. But, I did find what I think you want to know.”

  “Tell me. I'm all ears.”

  “All ears? I don’t understand,” he replied, puzzled.

  I laughed. “It’s an expression. It means that I’m listening.”

  “Hah, okay. You know the bar we spoke about when you were here?”

  Bar Mut, which Octavio referred to, as dark and elusive private bar club. “Yes, Bar Mut. What about it?”

  “Fascinating place, but not for me. I did visit it because Mrs. Stevens frequents the place. And that’s where she meets her friends— dates is a better word.”

  “She called it ‘her men,’ if I remember correctly.”

  “Plenty of action in that bar. I have pictures.”

  “What kind of pictures?”

  “Oh, nothing naked. Just pictures of men leaving with her each night.”

  “Good. What about Mr. Stevens?”

  “He frequents another private bar. A gay bar called Willies.”

  “And you have pictures?”

  “Oh yes, with pretty young boys. I think teenagers.”

  “Well, she admitted as much. So, I doubt any of that is going to make any difference. But, good work. Now, can you do any research with your contacts at the police?”

  “What kind of research?”

  “I need to know about Sofia Puig. Her family. What she did in Barcelona before she came to the United States. Anything you can get. You think you can do that?”

  “Yes, of course. No problem. Anything else?”

  “No, we’re good for now. Call me as soon as you have something.”

  “I will Señor Joey.”

  Okay, so that was in the works. Now, for my last call. Vinnie, my dad’s old friend from back in the day.

  I dialed Vinnie. After our usual hellos in Italian, I proceeded to the reason for my call. “Vinnie, as you know I went to see il Martello, just before he died. Anyway, he gave me some information about the people who could be responsible for my father’s murder.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Think back. I know you didn’t hang with dad or Tony all the time, but do you remember the names Alexander Wetherly or Richard Stevens?”

  “Mama mia, you’re asking about more than twenty years ago. Sí?”

  “Yes. At least twenty. Sorry, Vinnie, it’s important.”

  “Giuseppe, I can’t recall any of those names right now. I think more later.”

  “Okay. How about Susana Roth?”

  There was silence for a minute. “I don’t know the last name, but Susana sembra familiare.”

  “Yeah, Susana sounds familiar?” I was getting excited.

  “Un po, sí.”

  “A little bit. Good. Think about it some more. If you remember anything, can you call me back?”

  “Yes, yes. I know it’s importante.”

  We said our goodbyes, and as customary, he said to say hello to Marcella.

  I turned to Agnes and Patrick. “Okay guys, we got some wheels in motion. Now, we need to come up with a plan.”

  “I’ll follow up on FINRA, per Marcy’s suggestion,” Agnes said.

  Patrick had a pensive look on his face. “What are you thinking, Mr. Pat?”

  “What if Captain Johnson opened up the cold case and assigned it to us?”

  “Huh. You mean go straight up, with us doing the investigation?”

  “Might as well. They already know who you are. And, we have some new information to warrant opening the case.”

  “I was thinking of having you and Dom do most of the legwork. But, that would entail creating some more aliases, and it might get more complicated,” I said, sitting back. “What do you think, Agnes?”

  “Look, they know you as Mancuso. They know you interviewed the Stevenses and senior Wetherly. They know about our team. So, if one of these people had anything to do with your dad’s murder, they know we’re investigating.”

  “So, you agree with Mr. Pat?”

  “Yeah. Go in straight up. If Johnson and the NYPD give you the go-ahead, then Mancuso and O’Brian Investigations is reopening the murder of Paolo Mancuso, officially sanctioned. This way we have more resources.”

  I reached for the phone and dialed Captain Johnson. I brought him up to date on what we were doing and how I wanted to have this play out.

  “Joey, I have no problem having you guys work on this. The case remains open as a cold case. However, I doubt that at this point I can have the department pay you to investigate it. I’m going to get pushback on that. If you solve it, maybe we can rethink it.”

  “That’s not a problem. We’re not doing this to get paid. However, I would want to be officially assigned to the investigation. Can you do that?”

  “Of course. Consider it done. You think these people you mentioned are involved?”

  “At this point, I have nothing that ties them in. I have not found any connection between them and my father.”

  “Well, if anyone can find it, it’s you. By the way, I got a call from Captain Williams from Hilton Head. That was quite the solve you did on Daufuskie Island. Williams was very impressed.”

  “I got lucky there. Everything came together rather fast.”

  “Yeah, well, as they say, luck is when opportunity meets preparation. I’ll assign the case to your team. Let me know if I can do anything else.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I’ll keep you posted.”

  I clicked off the phone. “Okay, we’re officially on the case.”

  “You still want Larry and Harry to surveil Thomas and Susana Wetherly?” Agnes asked.

  “Yes. As soon as she’s back, get them on them. You do your thing, and hopefully Octavio can fill in the blanks on Sofia Puig Stevens. I wish Vinnie could remember something about the past. That would be helpful.”

  “Joey, what about your mother? Could she shed some light on this?”

  I thought for a few moments. “I hate to involve her. That was a dreadful period in her life. Let me think about that some more. I want to leave her out
of this if I can.”

  25

  Not much happened for the next two days. Larry and Harry were due in the office today to report on their surveillance of Susana and Thomas Wetherly. Octavio promised to wrap up his investigation of Sofia Puig de Stevens and give us a call. And, Marcy shared information on Wetherly Stevens, plus she suggested, albeit with trepidation, a new angle we might want to take in this case.

  The team was gathered around our conference table right at nine in the morning. Agnes and Patrick sat to my right. Father Dom in his usual seat to my left, followed by Larry and Harry.

  “Let’s begin with Larry and Harry. Give us an update on Susana first, then on Thomas.”

  “I took Susana,” began Larry. “Anyway, from our observation, these two lead pretty much separate lives. Susana gets to work at eight in the morning and spends her day at the office. At five, she leaves for the gym near her home in Upper Montclair in New Jersey. After the gym, right at six fifteen in the evening, at least for the last two days, she’s visited De Novo European Pub, where she has a few drinks. Susana seems very friendly with the owner of the establishment. At about seven in the evening a man joins her for dinner. Well-dressed executive type that Agnes has researched from the license plate I provided her with. On the first night I followed them, they checked in at The Wilshire Grand Hotel, a few minutes away from the restaurant. Right about eleven they left the hotel. The second night was the same, except she went home after dinner.”

  “Very interesting. I assume they checked in and got a room, right?” I asked.

  “I did follow them in, and yes, they proceeded to get a room.”

  “I see. Agnes, who’s the man?”

  Agnes looked down at her iPad. “The man is Charles Maestro. He works at AmericanCiti Bank in New York City. He’s in a leadership position with them, in charge of the branches in New York City. He’s fifty years old and married for twelve years. Two children.”

  “Did you do any other research on Maestro?”

  “No. That’s all I have on him for now. I can drill down some more if you want.”

  “Yes, do that. Let’s cover all the bases.” I pointed at Harry. “So, Harry, what does Thomas Wetherly do with his time?”