The young man had a long history of DUI arrests and convictions for other minor offenses for which he had received the equivalent of a slap on the wrist. As the son of a Philadelphia Police Department lieutenant, it was likely that he had gotten away with numerous other previous violations. The courtesies extended to him by his father’s fellow officers and others had unfortunately fostered an attitude of arrogance and privilege that culminated in the tragic events that had ruined the lives of two innocent women and their families, and now the Mathais family.
Gary Senior was a respected member of the Department who never asked Regan or his boss for any consideration or favors for his son. Regan could see how the ordeal of the last eighteen months had aged the man.
Regan took his seat and waited for the judge to take the bench. He looked to his left and nodded to Vito Coratelli Jr., Mathais’ counsel. Coratelli was the son of one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the city. Although they shared a name, Junior had only inherited his father’s bombastic personality but none of his skills. Coratelli had convinced Mathais’ mother that he could mount a defense that would allow her son to walk away from the charges with an acquittal. Over Lt. Mathais’ objections, mother and son retained Coratelli.
The evidence against the young man was overwhelming. His arrogant demeanor throughout the proceedings must also have contributed to the quick jury verdict. Regan barely made it back to his office when the call came that a verdict had been reached. The inevitable “guilty on all counts” was pronounced over the sobs of both the surviving victim and the deceased victim’s family - and Mrs. Mathais.
Now, three months later, Gary Mathais Jr. no longer displayed any signs of arrogance or privilege. He too had aged considerably, and Regan could see bruises on his face from a recent beating, no doubt from some inmate who probably took exception to Mathais’ lineage. Mathais had been immediately taken into custody upon the jury’s verdict which the court determined had been a violation of his probation for a previous conviction. Former police and their family members did not fare well in the penal system.
“All rise,” the court officer signaled the judge’s presence.
When it was over Mathais got the minimum sentence, twenty-five years. Regan assumed the judge, out of respect for the father, extended this minor courtesy. Unlike the previous “breaks” he had been given, however, this one would not prevent Gary Junior from suffering the consequences of his misconduct.
As he left the courtroom Coratelli said, “Jack, you should have done more to help the kid.”
Regan looked at him and waved him closer and whispered in his ear, “You’re the one who’s responsible for this, you stupid fuck. Now, get away from me before I drop you right here.”
“Detective Ichowitz to see Mr. Nooris,” Ichowitz said as he held out his shield for the receptionist.
He waited as the receptionist, speaking in Hebrew, informed Nooris about his visitor. There was something about the young woman that struck Ichowitz that she wasn’t just Nooris’ secretary. After a brief discussion, the receptionist put down the receiver, wordlessly got up and led the detective to Nooris’ office. Ari Nooris was standing by the door and smiled at the young woman, “Thank you Shona. Detective, please come in,” he said and waved Ichowitz into his office. “Would you like some coffee or a cold drink?”
“No thank you.”
“What can I do for you Detective…Isadore Ichowitz, that’s your name isn’t it?”
“That’s right, have we met before?” Ichowitz asked.
“No, my brother Avi told me about your interview with him. His description of you was quite accurate. Except you are much better looking than he described,” he said with a fifty-tooth smile. “I assume you want to ask me about Megan Larson.”
Ichowitz nodded.
“Please, what would you like to know?”
“Mr. Nooris, your brother told me that you let Ms. Larson stay at your condo. Is that correct?”
“Yes detective, that’s right.”
“That was rather generous of you.”
Nooris shrugged.
“How long had you known Ms. Larson?”
“Well, I remember her as one of Avi’s high school friends. But most recently, she was Dorothy Wiggins’ associate and we worked together on the court house project.”
“Is that the project that’s been reported about in the press?”
“Yes, that’s the project.”
“So how did you come to allow Ms. Larson to stay at your condo?”
“Well, over the course of six or eight months that we had worked on the project we became quite close, and a couple of weeks ago Megan asked me if she could use my condo while she was looking for a place to move.”
“Did she tell you why she was moving?”
“Well, actually we didn’t discuss it in person. I was in Jerusalem at the time and she texted me.”
“Did you know where she was living before she moved into your condo?”
“Yes, she had been living with Dorothy Wiggins. They were in a relationship, and I believe Megan wanted to end it. As I said, we had become quite close.”
“So did you or your brother give Ms. Larson permission to stay there?”
“Well, both of us I suppose. I mean, I texted her and Avi gave her the keys and the code to the unit.”
“When did you return from Israel?”
“Last Thursday, the morning before…before the murder,” Nooris said shaking his head as in disbelief. “She was such a beautiful and accomplished young woman. What a waste.”
“Did you see Ms. Larson after you returned?”
“No, I got in very early Thursday morning. I never sleep on planes. With the time change and jet lag, I just stayed home with my family.”
“How about Friday?”
“I was here all day and once again I returned home for Shabbat dinner with my family.”
“And your secretary can confirm that you were here in your office on Friday?” Ichowitz asked.
“I assume so. Is that really necessary?”
“Perhaps.”
“Would you like to speak with her now?”
“No, we can do that later.”
When Ichowitz had completed the interview he had the distinct impression that Nooris had not been completely forthcoming with regard to the full extent of his relationship with Megan Larson. Ichowitz did not disclose his knowledge of Larson’s pregnancy.
Ichowitz nodded at the receptionist as he left. He could not miss the manner with which she watched him as he walked out of Nooris’ office. He turned back and saw her staring at him. This was definitely not your run of the mill receptionist. Shona whatever your last name, was someone Ichowitz should look into. Perhaps she could shed some further insight on Megan Larson’s relationship with Ari Nooris.
On his way to meeting with Regan, Ichowitz stopped at the Nooris condo for another look. There was something about Nooris that bothered him. The man was a tad too smooth, too self-assured. Ichowitz stepped into the large living/dining area. Regan was right the Nooris brothers had spared no expense in converting the space from the former storage room to its present grandeur. Every amenity from the hardwood floors that looked like wood planks that had been removed from the side of an old barn and refinished, to the modern lighting fixtures and magnificent back wall of windows, had been well thought out and blended perfectly.
Ichowitz took a small flashlight from his jacket pocket and slowly examined the large room from floor to ceiling. It was in the far corner where the windows nearly met the ceiling: A tiny camera, the type of sophisticated device that only high end security companies, or government agencies could install, reflected from the beam of his flashlight. He must have missed it before because of the sunlight from the window wall, and the shadow cast from the hanging flood lights. He wondered about who had put it there and if it captured any images that would assist in their murder investigation.
“Jack, I’m at the Nooris condo. I came acr
oss something I think you should see. Do you have a ladder at your house?”
Twenty minutes later Regan was standing on the top rung of a ladder that still left him four feet below the tiny camera.
“Izz, we’ll have to ask the techs to come back and remove this thing. Have you ever seen anything like this before?”
“I have back when I was in the service. The CIA used cameras like this. I’ve never seen private security firms using equipment this sophisticated,” he replied.
“Why would the CIA put this place under surveillance?” Regan asked.
“Dunno, maybe it’s not the Agency. I’d sure like to know if the camera was working last Friday night,” Ichowitz said.
It took the Crime Scene techs less than two minutes to remove the camera from the wall. The apparatus was connected to an antenna on the outside that had also been hidden in shadows and had been undetected in previous inspections. The apparatus had no identifying marks and gave them no clues as to who had installed it.
“Dead end?” Regan asked.
“Maybe, but if Nooris was under surveillance by a government agency, and the fact our guys could remove it so easily, makes me think whoever installed it is pretty sophisticated. Our removing the camera may generate a reaction. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
TEN
The Chief Justice’s press conference was received with nearly universal skepticism by the media. How could he not have known that his counsel was on both sides of a transaction that had cost the taxpayers over $10 million dollars? Even if they believed that he taken no money from Wiggins, his complete failure to oversee the project raised serious questions about his judgment that placed his retention in jeopardy.
“Chief, don’t worry, it will all blow over long before the retention election,” Saunders said reassuringly.
“Mickey, that sounds just like the advice I received when I was told that by retaining that Wiggins woman it would also assure my retention. So far that hasn’t worked out so well for me. Now I’m getting the shit kicked out of me by the press. Some talk show guys are calling for my recall, for Christ’s sake.”
“Bob, you didn’t take her money, and there’s nothing in writing that supports her allegations. I’m telling you soon the spotlight will be focused on her. We got the best spin doctor in the business working for you. He recommends that you lay low. I agree. You’ll see, tomorrow or in another day or two, some self righteous state senator or congressman will be discovered surfing porn on the web, or a bunch of priests will be exposed as pederasts, and you’ll be yesterday’s news.”
“What about Nooris? Won’t he claim he’s entitled to his money?”
“Nooris will not be a problem,” Saunders replied.
“How do you know that?”
“Bob, I know, and you don’t need to know,” he said.
Saunders hung up the phone and smiled at the Mayor. “Looks like your plan is working out so far, Fogerty and Wiggins are right in the eye of the shit storm.”
The Mayor nodded his agreement.
“So when are you going to get Commissioner Regan in the party?”
“Patience Mickey, there’s plenty of time. Let’s enjoy the moment.”
“You’re sure you have Nooris under control?”
The Mayor nodded.
“But what about the girl’s murder; isn’t that going to screw things up?”
The Mayor shook his head and sighed. “That was unfortunate, and unanticipated, but it won’t have any impact on the plan.”
The Mayor turned and looked out the window. He pointed and said, “Dorothy Wiggins’ office is right over there, the top floor of the Widener Building. It’s a good thing those windows can’t open. Before this is over, she’ll want to take a leap.”
“Fuck her,” Saunders said.
“I wouldn’t even do that with your dick,” the Mayor said, and they both laughed.
Ichowitz pointed to the chart on the wall and said, “So here’s what we have so far: Dorothy Wiggins, who has a motive to eliminate the principal grand jury witness, visits the victim at the Nooris condo Friday afternoon and leaves around 5:30-5:45. The Comcast tech who responded to a trouble call at the unit at around 6 PM says the victim was fine when he left the condo a half hour to forty-five minutes later.”
“Avi Nooris’ alibi that he was at the gym all night has a kingsized hole in it; however, as far as we know he had no motive to kill Larson. Ari Nooris claims he did not see the victim when he returned from Israel, and like his brother also had no motive to harm Ms. Larson. Then we have the mysterious spy camera that might contain video that reveals who killed Megan Larson, but we don’t know who put the camera there or what it recorded. We still don’t have a line on four of the vehicles that accessed the parking lot that night. We have a password-protected laptop computer that belonged to the victim. And finally, Ms. Larson was pregnant-the father of the unborn child is unknown.”
“Izz perhaps when we find out who the father is, we’ll find the killer,” Regan said.
“Maybe, but why would Larson’s lover murder her?”
“Dunno.”
“Jack, was there anything in Larson’s grand jury testimony that could lead us to the killer?”
“Sure, if the killer is Dorothy Wiggins. But Gold the Comcast tech eliminated her as our suspect. You’re sure about that guy?”
Ichowitz nodded his head.
“So that leaves us with Avi Nooris and the security camera, the PC and the four vehicles,” Regan said.
“And Ari Nooris I found his story just a tad too, I don’t know, perfect,” Ichowitz said and shrugged his shoulders.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Regan asked.
“Not sure, but there was something about Nooris’ receptionist, I think her name is Shona.”
“What?”
“I’m not certain; just a vibe. The way she told Nooris that I was there to question him, and the way she watched me; it’s probably nothing, but she seemed way too qualified to be manning Nooris’ reception desk.”
“Assistant District Attorney Regan, there’s a call for you on line two; caller claims she’s your mother.”
Regan arched his eyebrows and picked up the phone. His mother only called if someone in the family died or was seriously injured.
“Mother, is everything OK?” he asked.
“Jack, your father told me that the Mayor is going to hold a press conference this afternoon. Apparently Mayor Gallo conducted some kind of undercover investigation of the Police Department and he’s going to announce that he has requested the US Attorney to look into corruption in the department. All of this is designed to force your father to resign. You know the Mayor and your father never got along.”
“Mother, Dad would never be involved in or condone any corruption. This is all politics. Dad will be OK, you’ll see, but why did he ask you to call me?”
“Jack, you know your father. He’s so stubborn. I suggested that he call you, but he wouldn’t. He said he didn’t want to bother you. So I called. Do you know someone by the name of Vito Coratelli Jr.? Your father mentioned that he had something to do with this.”
Coratelli was a criminal defense attorney of questionable skill and even more suspect ethics. He had skated by mainly on the reputation of his father who was a well regarded and respected member of the local criminal defense bar. Regan had most recently encountered Vito Junior in a case involving the son of a Police Lieutenant who Regan had successfully prosecuted for vehicular homicide. Coratelli turned down a plea arrangement Regan had worked out in consideration of the defendant’s father. His client received a much harsher sentence as a result of Coratelli’s advice. Incredibly, Coratelli blamed Regan for the mess he had created.
“Yes, I know him. Why?”
“I’m not sure but your father believes he has some kind of grudge against you and he apparently is a witness in this corruption probe.”
Ichowitz reading the look of concern on his young fr
iend’s face asked, “Everything all right?”
Regan filled him in on the call.
“Jack, the PPD is the fourth largest police department in the nation, with over 6,000 officers and nearly 1,000 civilian employees. Practically all of the cops and employees are honest, dedicated, and hard-working civil servants. But there are some rotten apples among them. Since your father became Commissioner he has done a great job reforming the department and weeding out corruption. No matter what he has accomplished, a police force of this size and scope is not going to be perfect.”
“The Mayor has a hard-on for your father that goes back two decades, something to do with a beef between your father and his. As I recall, John was a sergeant on the Civil Affairs Unit. The Mayor’s father was a Congressman. Your dad was instrumental in the Congressman’s conviction for taking bribes from someone he thought was an Iranian businessman who turned out to be an undercover FBI agent. They got the Congressman on tape saying, ‘Money talks and bullshit walks.’ You were a kid back then, you probably don’t remember any of this,” Ichowitz said.
“Christ, Izz, that’s ancient history. Mayor Gallo can’t still be holding a grudge over that.”
“Maybe and maybe it’s because his honor had the hots for your sister Annabelle, and your parents put the kibosh to that relationship.”
“What’s Coratelli got to do with this?” Regan asked.
“Who knows? If all they have is that putz’s testimony, they got bupkis!”
The Honorable Bruce Peter Gallo, Mayor of Philadelphia, had a chip on his shoulder the size of a small destroyer. He never forgot, and most assuredly never forgave, any insult, no matter how trivial. He was small in stature, five feet, four inches tall. He was sensitive about his height and would never allow photographers to take photographs of him with taller people, men or woman, standing beside him. He was perpetually angry, but his handsome face and quick smile hid his inner turmoil.
A reporter once quoted him in an article about his reputation for seeking retribution against political rivals as saying: “I carry around this reservoir of hate that I can dip into whenever I need to.” According to the article when the reporter asked if the Mayor was joking he responded, “Cross me and you’ll find out!”
Murder and Mayhem in Manayunk Page 6
