The Unsub: Joey Mancuso, Father O'Brian Crime Mysteries Book 7: (Joey Mancuso, Father O'Brian Crime Mystery)

by Owen Parr

  “Can I see so identification?" asked Friedman, sitting to the right of Shenbeck. Dom and I pulled out our NYPD consultant’s creds. Upon examining our credentials, he asked, “What is this about?”

  I addressed Shenbeck. “Senator, you met with Mr. Jan Bobal yesterday at his place, correct?”

  Shenbeck glanced at Friedman, and he got a nod to respond. “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you have a glass of wine?” I asked.

  Before Shenbeck replied, Friedman cut in. “Can we not play games and get to the point? The senator is busy.”

  “Yes, sir, we’re trying to establish some references, and I’ll get to the point in one second.”

  "Please do,” replied Friedman.

  “Yes, I had a glass of wine with Mr. Bobal,” Shenbeck replied.

  “And when you left him, he was fine?” I asked.

  Receiving a nod from Friedman, Shenbeck replied, “I made a quick stop at his place. He was getting ready for a shower. We sat in the dining room, had a glass of wine, and discussed a few things. Then, I left him there and went on my way. Why? What’s going on?”

  “Well, sir, I’m afraid Mr. Bobal was shot dead after you left,” I said.

  After a moment of shock, the senator exchanged glances once again with Friedman. “Dead? How?”

  “Two shots to the chest in his bedroom,” Dom replied.

  “Oh, my God. Who?” asked Shenbeck as he sat up and moved closer to the table.

  “We don’t know, sir. We’re trying to reconstruct the events just prior to his death,” I replied, watching his reaction carefully. “You may have been the last person to see him alive.”

  Friedman put out his hand in front of Shenbeck to stop him from answering. Instead he asked, “You mean before the killer did, right?”

  “Yes, that’s what I mean,” I replied. This fellow was sharp and doing his job of protecting his guy.

  Dom asked, “Did your conversation have anything to do with the potential FBI inquiry into his company’s trading program?”

  Shenbeck brought his arms close to his body and bit his lip. Both gestures indicated some form of anxiety and stress.

  “You don’t need to answer that. The senator’s conversation is private,” inserted Friedman.

  I ignored that. “Did Mr. Bobal share with you any concerns he had about his life being in danger?”

  Before he replied, he again exchanged glances with Friedman. “No, not at all,” Shenbeck replied, looking shocked at the idea. Either he was a good actor or he might not be the killer. “So, the killer is at large?” he asked, blinking rapidly.

  I was intrigued by all his non-verbal signs. This guy knew more than he was willing to share. “At the moment, yes. We visited Mr. Bobal just after he was shot. It seems we crossed paths at some point. The killer must have gone in after you, and just before us,” I added.

  “Why were you visiting Bobal?" asked Friedman as he rapidly tapped his fingers on the table.

  Different from Shenbeck, who was blinking too much and displaying signs of overall uncomfortableness, Friedman was hardly blinking. From experience, this told me he was trying to control his eye movement.

  I sat forward. “We were following up on two murders of individuals in his Miami office.” I paused. “And an attempted murder of an investigator in Miami.”

  “I had no idea. Are these murders connected?” Shenbeck asked.

  I didn’t reply to his question. Instead, I asked, “Are you familiar with Peníze Private Equity, LLC, registered here in New York?”

  Getting the go-ahead from Friedman, Shenbeck replied, “Never heard of them.”

  “Do you have an account with Fönix Securities?” I asked.

  “Again, the private affairs of the Senator are not—” Friedman began testily.

  “It’s okay,” Shenbeck interrupted. “I do, just like many others do.”

  I noticed Friedman looking at his watch impatiently. “I just have a couple of more questions, and we’ll get out of your way. Peníze Private Equity has a minority interest in Fönix Securities. And allegedly, Peníze is owned by an organized Czech crime family.”

  Before I could continue, Friedman asked, “What are you getting at?”

  “Senator, do you know Stevan Drako or Valeria Drako?” I asked.

  “Bobal’s wife is Valeria, but I don’t know her maiden name. And no, I don’t know any Stevan Drako,” Shenbeck replied.

  “Any other questions, gentlemen, will have to wait. The senator has a lunch engagement,” Friedman said, standing up.

  “That’s all we have for now. Thank you for your time,” I said, standing up in tandem with Dom. We shook hands and began to walk out of the conference room. Turning around, I asked, “Sorry, one more question, do you know Mr. George Newton?”

  Shenbeck, who was just behind me, shrugged. “Yes, of course, he’s Bobal’s partner. Why?”

  “No reason, just curious. Thank you again,” I replied and turned to Friedman. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Friedman, where were you yesterday between six pm and eight pm?”

  He frowned, shaking his head. “Why? Am I a suspect?”

  “I like to say that everyone is a suspect until they’re not,” I replied easily.

  Friedman glanced at Shenbeck. “If you need to question me, we can meet with my attorney at our convenience. So, if you have more questions, make an appointment,” he replied, looking away from us.

  Dom and I entered the elevators by ourselves for the ride down. “What do you think?” Dom asked once we were alone.

  I didn't answer immediately. “You know that look a teenager has when he's kissing his girlfriend and being handsy, and then her parents walk in on them? I believe the senator didn’t do it himself, but he’s hiding something. His gestures told me he’s concerned, and we stressed the hell out of him. Remember, he’s the one that raised hell about the FBI investigation. Skinny Friedman, I don’t trust.”

  “Should we add Friedman to the suspect list?”

  “You bet, and let’s see if Friedman has any social media listings. If we can get his picture from that, we can have Larry and Harry review the video for the day of the murder.”

  “His physique doesn’t match the mystery man that entered through the service door.”

  “No, that guy had broad shoulders and is taller, agreed,” I said as we walked out onto the sidewalk. “But then again, that can easily be added as a disguise.”

  “Okay, I’m going back to Saint Helen’s. What are you going to do?” Dom asked, pulling out his phone to call for an Uber.

  I looked at my watch. “I'd better get back to the pub and meet with Farnsworth and Charles. They need to fill in the blanks on the murder book. Let’s have your Uber drop me off.”

  “When do you plan on meeting with George Newton again?”

  “I’ll wait until he’s back at his place. Then, I’ll drop in on him.”

  We boarded the Uber, and I called Agnes. After three rings, she answered. “Yes, Joey, what’s up?”

  “I need you to do research on a Lance Friedman. He’s the chief of staff for Senator Shenbeck. If you get his photo from any social media, have Harry and Larry review the video from the apartment building. See if Friedman enters or leaves that building at any time that day.”

  I noticed our Uber driver glancing at me through the rearview mirror. I put the phone down and stared right back at him. After a second, he broke off our eye contact and looked forward.

  “Is he a new suspect?” Agnes inquired.

  “Possibly a new one, yes,” I replied.

  “Fine. I’ll get started. Are you on your way back?” Agnes asked.

  “Be there in five,” I replied.

  I called the reception desk at Newton’s building, hoping the lady who helped us with the video would be there. She was, and I asked her to call me when Mr. Newton entered the building.

  We didn’t need any more suspects, but I had to check out Friedman. If the senator was hiding something that could inc
riminate him, like being involved in insider trading, Friedman may try and protect him. Shenbeck was the senior senator from New York, and the talk around the political insiders was that Shenbeck had bigger political aspirations, as in the presidency at some point. So, Friedman could easily be motivated to protect his ticket to the White House.

  Instead of narrowing down the list of suspects, it was getting bigger. And the bigger it got, the harder to find our perp. Or was it perps? Were all these murders conceived by one party? Or, were there different perps with various motives? So far, all the victims had one thing in common, and that was Fönix Securities. Gene Wells, who suspected that something illicit was going on in the Miami office. James Roth, the trader in the Miami office who probably knew too much. And now Jan Bobal, who was part of the operation. Jack Ryder, almost a victim, was undercover at the Miami office, and either he was outed by Jan Bobal or they simply thought he was asking too many questions.

  So, if I looked at all these facts, the simple deduction was that everything pointed to a cleansing of all who knew about the operation of Fönix and its owners, Peníze Private Equity, LLC, or the Czechs who owned it.

  Would my fictional hero and tutor, Sherlock Homes, be satisfied with the deduction? No, he would look beyond the obvious. And I had to do the same.

  28

  Joey Mancuso ~

  Agnes had ordered sandwiches from Leo’s Bagels a few doors from our pub on Beaver Street. While we ate in the conference room, I updated Patrick, Agnes, and the duo of Larry and Harry. They'd had been busy looking at the video and saw a man who looked like Friedman enter the building, walk by, and head to the elevators without stopping at the reception desk.

  “So, what’d you have on Lance Friedman?” I asked.

  Agnes brought up our diagram of all the players on the smartboard. She had placed Friedman under the list of suspects. His Linkedin picture looked the same as he did at the senator’s office. His rather large nose took front and center stage of the photo.

  Looking at her tablet, Agnes read, “Lance Friedman, born on June eighth, 1970, in Albany, New York, attended Columbia University, and received a master’s in political science in 1993 at the age of twenty-three. He then got a JDS degree at NYU at twenty-five, whereupon he went to work for his dad’s lobbying firm, Friedman and Katz, in Albany. At the same time, he ran and won a seat in the New York State Assembly, where he served four years.”

  Farnsworth and Charles walked into the office a few minutes ahead of time. Farnsworth had his usual ragged look about him. He walked so slow I wasn't sure if it was due to the fifty extra pounds he carried, or if his testicles had dropped so low, he was afraid of crushing them with his knees. Charles was always two steps behind like the royal couple.

  “Have a seat, guys,” I said. “We’re going over some information on a possible new suspect. I’ll bring you up to date in a moment.”

  Uncharacteristically, Farnsworth sat to my left without saying a word, with Charles to his left.

  “You guys are pretty fancy with an electronic board,” said Farnsworth with a touch of sarcasm.

  “It’s called a smartboard,” Agnes promptly corrected.

  “Smartphone, smartTV, now we have a smartboard. What else are they coming up with?” Farnsworth asked rhetorically.

  Hopefully, a smart chip we can insert in your brain. Instead of taking the bait, I ignored his comment, and said, “Go on, Agnes, please.”

  “After serving four years in the State Assembly, he ran for the New York State Senate, but didn't win a seat. He continued working at Friedman and Katz for two years before he joined the legal staff of Senator Shenbeck. Four years ago, he became the chief of staff for the senator.”

  “Why are you looking at this guy?” Farnsworth asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

  “I met this guy this morning when I visited Senator Shenbeck—” I started to say.

  “Wait, wait. Is this the lead you told Captain Johnson you had? If so, why not let us question him with you?” Farnsworth asked indignantly, his eyes flashing in anger.

  “We went in to talk to Shenbeck, who visited Bobal just before he was killed. And, we met his chief of staff. After which, I want to include him in our list of suspects,” I replied.

  “Mancuso, are you working independently, or are you getting paid by the NYPD to be a consultant? Because if you’re a consultant, then you need to include the lead investigators in the case. Namely us. You don’t change, do you?” asked Farnsworth, shaking his head.

  I’m doing this on my own because you’re an asshole and a lazy detective, I wanted to say. Instead, I crossed my arms and rolled back in my chair, and when I spoke, I kept my tone even and almost polite. “Look, I’m still working the original case, and I asked you here to join forces and bring you up to date on everything from day one in Miami.”

  Farnsworth scoffed. “Oh, you want to join forces. That’s a new one. So, we have to come to your bar to work the case. Last I heard, the Midtown South precinct was running the case, but no, we have to come to the great Mancuso’s place, the golden boy of the precinct, so we can join forces.”

  I'd had enough of this guy’s shit, but I didn’t want to insult or embarrass him in front of everyone. He should have retired five years ago before he threw in the towel and became a lazy ass, with fewer solved cases than any detective in the entire city. I mean, shit, if he had to find seashells, any seashells, he would never think of going to the beach to find them.

  But, he had, in a moment of unconsciousness, thrown himself on a suspect who was about to shoot me at close range. So, I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  I met his stare, refusing to back down. “You're here now, and we’ll be sharing everything we have with you. Once you’re up to speed, take the lead on the Bobal case. We’ll work side by side as we continue to pursue our other cases.”

  Farnsworth looked at Charles with a look of satisfaction, like he was showing his partner how tough he was.

  “How about I make some espressos and get some cigars for everyone?” asked Patrick, trying to diffuse the situation.

  While Farnsworth still had his chest puffed out like a cock who had won his fight, Charles replied, “Sure, I’ll take one of each. Bring my partner one of each also. Make his an espresso with no sugar.”

  Farnsworth looked to his left at Charles. “What? Are you my mother now?”

  Charles rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

  “Okay, while Mr. Pat gets us coffee and cigars, let me bring you up to date.” I pointed to the board and started on the day I got the call from the captain about Gene Wells’ hit-and-run in Miami.

  It took the entire time for me to smoke a Rocky Patel Vintage 1999 Corona, which was about an hour, to go through the entire story. Throughout it, both detectives added notes to the murder book and asked the occasional question. Agnes supplied copies of all photos we had.

  A little more relaxed and satisfied now, Farnsworth asked, “So, from everything I’m hearing, your primary suspects are these two companies Fönix and Peníze Private Equity?”

  As I told the story, I had emphasized both companies for a reason and deemphasized our other suspects. Farnsworth had swallowed the bait—hook, line, and sinker. “That’s correct. Both have offices here in the city.”

  Farnsworth smiled in satisfaction. “Good. In that case, we’ll follow up on both. You take the other suspects and keep us posted.”

  Exchanging glances with both Agnes and Patrick, and holding back a smile, I replied, “Okay, that works for us. But please, let us know if you hit pay dirt with these companies.”

  “Of course, we’ll keep you posted,” said Farnsworth, trying to gather up his big belly and ass to stand.

  “Thank you for the espresso and cigar,” added Charles. “I see the benefit of working out of here now.”

  “Any time, detectives,” said Patrick with faux politeness as he glanced at me.

  Patrick escorted the detectives out of the off
ice through the pub, while Agnes and I stayed seated at the conference table. Larry and Harry were back reviewing the video at their desks.

  “That was pretty slick of you,” Agnes said, grinning. “Sending them off on an impossible mission to check these two companies.”

  I smiled. I needed to work the suspects I thought were the most probable. I didn’t need this twosome of bumbling idiots getting in my way. “Well, I still think the perps could be the Czech family who owns Peníze.”

  “Yeah, but they’re not going to get very much starting at the top, while you work your way up. Besides, the State Department already told the FBI to back off the Czechs.”

  I shrugged innocently. “Hey, it was the leading detective’s idea to pursue them, right?”

  “Yeah, right,” Agnes replied with a wide grin.

  I turned my chair to face Larry and Harry. “Anything, guys?”

  Larry rubbed his fists into his eyes. “This is painful, man. My eyes are shutting down.”

  I snorted. “Oh, I know. I’ve already watched that thing twice.” Doing that was indeed a pain, watching a black-and-white video and trying to concentrate on everyone that walks in and out for hours. I had had enough of that shit.

  “When are you going to meet with Newton?” Agnes asked.

  “I’m waiting for the desk person to call me and tell me when he shows up at the building,” I replied. “Remind me to take a bottle of wine for this lady, she’s been a great help.”

  “White or red?” Agnes asked. “I’ll get it for you, so you won’t forget.”

  Agnes was the best. I didn't know what I did to deserve someone like her on my team. “Make it white, a California Chardonnay.”

  “Why? You think women only drink white?”

  “Don’t get me started. I’ve been behind the bar long enough to learn. As a matter of fact, I bet you her second choice is pink Zinfandel.”