by Owen Parr
“Where are we?” Jack rasped, his eyes still shut.
“You’ll be fine, buddy, just relax. We have EMT coming,” I replied soothingly.
Jack’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, but he was alive. Thank God. I couldn’t bear thinking I was responsible for his condition. If he'd died, it would have been all my fault for putting him in this situation in the first place.
While I waited for the EMT personnel, I went back to look at the car. Something, maybe gut instinct, told me to inspect the trunk. Carefully wading through the muddy water, I reached the back of the car, half-submerged in the ditch. As I looked around the trunk, I smiled, finding a clue floating in the filthy water. Careful not to tamper the evidence, I pulled it out with my handkerchief and stuck it in my pocket.
Finally, after a few minutes that seemed like hours, EMT arrived, took Jack's blood pressure, and checked his vitals, then carefully loaded him into their vehicle.
“Why don’t you ride with him to the hospital?" Deputy Wayne suggested. "Your Mustang is undrivable. I’ll have it towed.”
I glanced at him. “I had planned to do just that. Thank you.”
“Be thankful he’s alive. Your dumbass maneuver could have killed everyone in that car,” Wayne added in a serious tone, pinning me with his stare.
I didn’t reply as the door closed on the vehicle. He was right, of course. But now it seemed like the only course of action to take.
“We’ll need you to fill out our report. You fired a weapon?”
“Whatever. But I’ll have to wait,” I replied. Right now, Jack was more important than some police report.
***
Three hours later, Jack was resting comfortably at the hospital, going in and out of sleep. The attending physician warned me that his short-term memory may have suffered, but it could be back momentarily or take days, maybe weeks, for it to recover. The good news was that no brain damaged was evident and that Jack would be fine.
Sitting in Jack's room, I called Marcy and gave her the cliff notes version, simply saying that Jack had been in an accident, and what happened to the two individuals driving the car.
“So, your two suspects are dead?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so. But I still think they killed James and more than likely Gene Wells,” I said, standing up and walking around the room.
“About Gene, call Agnes. I spoke to her to see if she had spoken to you. She has some information on James that might shed some light on the hit-and-run.”
Interesting. I wondered what Agnes had found. “Did she tell you?”
“No, call her. So, now what?” Marcy asked.
“I may have a clue about the guys that abducted Jack, but I need more.” I walked around the small room, looking at Jack’s personal belongings from his pockets that were lying on top of a small table by the bathroom door. His wallet, watch, phone, some change. I was searching for anything that could help, but found nothing.
I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out my handkerchief, revealing two Snickers wrappers.
“What clue?” she asked.
“I found two Snickers wrappers. You know what a Snickers bar is?”
“No, I don’t, Mancuso," she said sarcastically, and I could practically hear her rolling her eyes. "I landed on earth from the moon yesterday.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get snippy. Anyway, I found one at James’ murder scene, and the other in the trunk of the car where they threw Jack in.”
She paused. “So, that ties in the two perps, right?”
“Elementary, my dear special agent.”
“If so, you might get some prints from them that match one of your dead guys. Good work, Mancuso.”
I smiled at her praise. “We still have to tie these two guys to Jan Bobal somehow. And the reason I’m here is still a mystery. Gene’s death may go unsolved.”
“If it wasn’t an accident, I’m sure you’ll find the perp. Maybe one of your other suspects did it. Let me give you an update from my end. The Bureau has officially opened an investigation to investigate Peníze and its holding company and the hedge fund in Miami and New York. I’ll be lead here in New York and I plan on meeting with Bobal and Newton today or tomorrow.”
Excellent. With Marcy on the case, we'd have access to more information. “That’s great. Contact the Miami-Dade sheriff’s department and have them send you the info on these two dead guys. I’m sure they’re tied to Bobal.”
“I’ll do that right now. What are your plans in Miami?”
“I called Detective Logan from the Miami Beach Police. He’s on his way here to visit Jack and I’ll update him. Also, I’ll give him these wrappers to check for prints. If they match one of these guys, maybe I’ll let him and Jack follow up on Gene’s death, and I can go back to New York and work on the Bobal’s case.”
“Joey, the Bobal case is not your case. It’s an FBI case now, and—”
I didn’t let her finish. “Marcy, from the looks of things, Bobal tried to kill Jack and killed Gene and James. My case is solving that. You can run with whatever white-crime you find. We can always cooperate.”
But I wasn’t giving up this case. I'd see it through to the end. It was my case.
Marcy sighed. “Just don’t try to do both. You’re going to get me transferred to some awful place.”
“Be careful with what you do. These people aren’t playing games. I’ll call you and probably see you in a day or two. Love you,” I said and disconnected the call.
***
A few minutes later, Detective Logan showed up. Jack was still sleeping.
Pointing at me and smiling, he asked, “Why are you wearing blue scrubs?”
I looked down at my clothes. “Man, I smelled like shit. I was wet from the rain, but worse from when I rescued Jack from the trunk of the car. I was in three feet of shitty, filthy mud. I took a shower in Jack’s bathroom and the attending physician gave me these.”
Logan nodded his understanding and stepped closer to the bed to gaze down at Jack. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s been sleeping all the time. When he barely wakes up, he keeps asking what happened to him. And then he falls back asleep.” It was actually kind of hard to watch, and every time, it made me feel a little guilty.
“And what did happen?” Logan glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.
I went on to tell him the story, from the moment Jack called in the trunk of the car to the PIT maneuver that caused the spill in Alligator Alley.
“You better hope he doesn’t remember that, or you’ll be sleeping on the street tonight.”
I closed my eyes. “Shit. Max. Somebody has to take Max out.”
Logan crossed his arms. “I already called his neighbor on the boat next to him. He’s taking care of that.”
Well, at least that was one thing I didn't have to worry about. I was grateful Logan had thought of the dog when I hadn't immediately.
“About the case,” I started, “I recovered these two Snickers bar wrappers, one at the scene of James’s murder. It was just lying there a few feet from where they found the mangled body of James. The other was floating in the trunk of the car Jack was in. Maybe we can get prints from these guys and confirm they also killed James.”
Logan nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll take them and check it out.”
“I also took pictures of tire tracks at the scene. I totally forgot to match them against the car these goons were driving. Maybe you can do that with the sheriff’s office. I’m sure they’ll match.”
“Tire tracks by themselves will be too circumstantial, but put that together with the wrappers, and we may have our clue.”
“I’m thinking these guys tortured James, got what the answers they wanted, then shot him dead.”
Logan frowned. “Did you see signs of torture?”
“Besides beating him, they threw him in the water for the gators to chew on him. It was awful. He was missing a leg.”
Logan swore. “Son of bitches. Too ba
d they’re both dead. We could have used their testimony to close both cases.”
“Both of these bastards were crazy. They tried to shoot their way out of an impossible situation. I think it was a case of suicide-by-cop. You know what I mean?” I glanced at him to see his reaction.
“I agree. What are you going to do now?”
I leaned against the wall next to Jack's bed. “I’ll wait for Jack to get released. Then, if we can close James' murder, I’ll let you and Jack work the Gene Wells’ case. I’ll go back to New York and work on Bobal, whom I’m sure is the real perp. These two were simply the trigger for him and perhaps others.”
“We can take it from here. Gene’s father keeps calling for updates. I feel terrible I don’t have any answers for the poor man.” Logan shook his head ruefully.
“Hang on a second. Marcy said that Agnes had additional information on the hit-and-run. Let me call her,” I said, picking up my phone.
“Go ahead, I’ll go get some coffee downstairs." Logan looked back as he headed for the door. "You want one?”
“Cream, no sugar. Thanks,” I replied, bring up my contact list. Agnes answered on the second ring. “Hi, Agnes, how’s New York?”
“Cold and wet today," she said, sounding disgruntled.
“Marcy said you had something on James Roth.”
“Yes, yes. As I did my research on him, I found his mother owns a dark blue 2000 four-door Nissan Altima. Now, she doesn’t have an active license anymore, but the car is still registered to her.”
There Agnes went again, being amazing at what she did. “Hah. Interesting, that’s good work. I’ll get on it. Anything else?”
“Mr. Pat says hello. We’re good here.”
“Back at him. I’ll get back to you. Thanks again.”
That was breaking news. A new twist in the hit-and-run. I called the Miami-Dade detective in charge of the investigation of James’ murder while I waited for Logan to come back.
“Detective Moreno, Joey Mancuso here.”
“I heard you had quite the chase. Is your friend okay?”
“He will be, thank you for asking. Let me ask you. Did you visit James Roth’s home?”
“We did and unfortunately made his mother aware of what happened. Terrible news to share with her. We located a sister in Ocala, Florida. So, hopefully she’ll be taken care of.”
“Did you find a 2000 Nissan Altima four-door sedan?”
“In a garage at the back of the house, yes. Mrs. Roth said she doesn’t drive anymore.”
“Did you happen to notice any damage to the front of the car?”
“We weren’t looking for any." Detective Moreno paused. "Why?”
I didn't answer his question. “Can you send officers to look and take pictures?”
“Sure, but why?” he repeated.
“I think that car may have been the one involved in a hit-and-run that killed the fellow I told you about, Gene Wells.”
“Really?" He sounded surprised. "So, you think our vic, James, may have been responsible for that?”
I stared out the window of the hospital room at the city below. “Very possible, yes. I have my reasons to think that.”
“I’ll get on its right away and call you back.”
Logan walked in the hospital room with two coffees and two guava and cheese pastelitos.
“I brought a snack. Hope you like these,” Logan said.
I loved them, actually. “Those things are delicious, but they’re all sugar.”
Logan smirked. “That’s why they taste so good. Anything with Agnes’ news?”
“A lot. Sit and I’ll share,” I replied.
“Brace yourself!” Jack said unexpectedly from his bed in a low voice.
18
Joey Mancuso ~
Logan and I both looked at Jack. I stood up and went to his side. “Jack, how do you feel?”
“You said brace yourself, right?” Jack asked, partially opening his eyes and attempting to look at both of us. “Where am I?”
Ignoring his first query, I replied soothingly, “You’re in a hospital. You’re fine."
He frowned. “How long have I been here?”
“Ten days,” I replied.
“What? Ten days!” Jack exclaimed as his blood pressure monitor shot up rapidly.
I patted his shoulder. “I’m kidding, about four hours. Do you remember what happened?”
He breathed a sigh of relief. Still speaking slowly and barely opening his eyes, he replied, “I was in the trunk of a car when you hit the car from behind. Isn’t that right?”
“Something like that,” I replied, and trying to change the subject, I added, “Detective Robert Logan is here.”
“Hey, buddy, how do you feel?” Logan asked as I pressed the button for a nurse.
Jack grimaced. “I feel like a twelve-wheeler ran over me, that’s how I feel.”
“Odette is on her way over to visit.”
Odette was Logan’s sister and Jack’s current squeeze.
Jack turned to face Logan and rasped, “Great. Can I have some water?”
“The nurse is her way, hang on a second,” I replied.
“Can you move the bed up so I can see you guys? Are all my parts together and in the same place?”
I reached over to raise the back of the bed. “You’re all together. Nothing broken. You suffered a concussion, so you’ll be under observation for a while. Can I ask you a question and see if you remember?”
Jack's eyebrows drew together. “Is it a test?”
“No, no. But still, it works as one,” I replied.
A nurse came in to check on Jack just then. “Could you guys excuse us a minute? I have to check his vitals. Please wait outside.”
We obediently walked out while Jack was attended to. “So, he’s going out with your sister?”
Logan shrugged. “Yes, they’ve been going out for a while.”
That was a surprise. “What about Jack’s rule that all lady friends have an expiration date?”
Logan snorted. “He’s full of shit. Odette’s time expired a while ago. They’re still together.”
“That’s great.”
“You guys can go back in,” the nurse informed us as she walked out a minute later.
“How is he?” I asked.
She smiled, and her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Vitals are good. I’ll tell the doctor. Maybe he can start eating some regular food.”
“Regular food, as in hospital food?” I asked with a smirk.
The nurse smiled and walked away.
We walked back in. Jack was sitting up higher now and was more lucid. “You were going to ask a question.”
I took the seat next to him. “Yes. How much did you share with James?”
He frowned, looking as if he were trying to remember. “Not much. I didn’t disclose anything about our investigations. Why?”
I swallowed the bad taste in my mouth. “They tortured him before they killed him. Then, they came after you. So, I thought he may have implicated you.”
Jack flinched. “How bad did they torture him? Did you catch the two guys that abducted me?”
“They, ah—” I wasn’t sure if I should tell him or not, so I hesitated. “They attempted to escape, and a shootout took place. The deputies shot both dead.”
“Good. So, you think these guys killed James? Shit, I think I put him in harm’s way. This is all my fault,” Jack said, closing his eyes.
I understood what he was going through. I felt a similar guilt when I thought I had gotten him killed. “Don’t blame yourself for that. I think Bobal was cleaning house and James knew too much. I think once we get prints from these”—I ask Logan shoe Jack the evidence bag, showing the two Snickers wrappers—"we'll know more. One was at the James’ scene, the other in the trunk of the perp’s car, who grabbed you, Jack.”
Jack blinked. “Hang on a second. There’s a third wrapper in the trash can of Newton’s private office back in Miami Beach.”
“Did you get it?” I asked.
“No, I just saw it and threw it back in the can. It was such a little thing,” Jack replied.
“Ah, my dear Watson. Sherlock Holmes is quoted to have said, ‘To a great mind, nothing is little.’ You see, now we have the full-circle connection. These two guys emptied the entire office, they left a Snickers bar behind. Then, I find the same clue at the murder scene, and finally, the same clue in the trunk of the car where they stashed you. Voila.”
“I suppose you are also a great mind?” Jack asked, smiling.
“Elementary,” replied Logan, laughing.
We had a good laugh for a moment.
“By the way, I have new information that may tie James to Gene’s death.” I glanced at Logan.
“James to Gene’s death? How so?” Logan asked.
I went on to explain what I learned and that I was waiting for Detective Moreno to report back.
“But, what motive did James have to kill Gene?” Logan asked.
Good question. “Jack and I discussed this before from research Agnes did. It seems Bobal may have paid off James’ mother’s mortgage debt before the bank foreclosed. James got himself in deep debt from trading losses he incurred gambling in options. And, Bobal may have used that to force James to kill Gene. Plus, from what I can tell, James knew that Gene had gone into the private office and found something that could tie Bobal and the company to fraud. So, it was either kill Gene, or the whole thing was going to unravel and expose everyone, including James.”
Logan thought for a second. “You’re saying James was aware of the fraud taking place in the trading of stocks?”
“Maybe not how, but they all shared a pooled account where the illicit profits were distributed. So, if they were found out, they all went down.”
My phone rang and I answered, turning away and looking out the window. “Mancuso.”
“Mancuso, this is Homicide Detective JC Moreno. Well, your clue was right. There’s definitely damage to the Nissan on the front left bumper and James’ prints are all over inside the car and no one else.”
“But, can we be sure he did it?” I asked, walking out into the hallway. Was my suspicion correct?
