Murder and Mayhem in Manayunk

by Neal Goldstein

  Coratelli continued his monologue for the next hour and a half, laying out the particulars of the scheme that involved inflating the value of his property by several million dollars, kicking back a major portion of the excessive profit to Saunders through the Nooris brothers, the chosen developers for the project. If his description of the scam could be corroborated, the Mayor, the Nooris brothers, the former partner of the Chief Justice and others could be indicted.

  “Mr. Coratelli, are you sure that Chief Justice Fogerty was not involved in the scam?” Ferguson asked.

  “As far as I know, except for getting him a good deal on a shore house and cheap labor to fix it up, he got nada. Best I can figure, the ‘in crowd’ thought he was too stupid to be cut in on the deal.”

  “Vito, how about Dorothy Wiggins? She was retained by Fogerty as counsel. Was she involved?” Regan asked.

  “Jack, Gallo and the rest of them would rather have cut off their left testicles than allow that bitch to dip her beak into this. They wanted the Laborers to bury her alive in the foundation of the building. The only thing they wanted to do was fuck Wiggins’ associate, Megan Larson. As a matter of fact I think Gallo, or maybe one of the Nooris brothers was doin her. She was one prime piece of ass,” he replied.

  Regan had assumed Ari Nooris had been involved with Larson. The idea that the Mayor might have been involved was something he had not previously considered.

  “Mr. Coratelli, is there anything more you want to add to your statement at this time?”

  “No sir. Do I get my deal?”

  “Vito, you know the routine. We have to review your statement with our boss and see if we can independently corroborate what you shared with us today,” Regan said.

  “You’re sure about the U.S. Attorney having some of the conversations you had with Saunders and the Nooris brothers on tape?” he asked.

  “Those double crossing bastards have hours of conversations. Listen to me Jack, this is solid gold.”

  “OK Vito. Let’s take a break here. I’ll have someone come in and take your order for lunch, OK?”

  “Sure Jack, that’d be great. Could you do me a favor and turn down the AC? I’m freezing,” Coratelli was actually shivering, another sign he was going through withdrawal.

  “Sure Vito. No problem.”

  Regan and Ferguson immediately went to Susan Romansky’s office to report on the interview.

  “So you think Coratelli really has the goods on Saunders and the Mayor?”

  “Susan, I know Vito. He’s not smart enough to have come up with this scheme all by himself. Saunders is a scumbag from day one. This whole thing smells like something Gallo would come up with. Maybe this time he outsmarted himself by involving a junkie as one of his partners. Looks like whatever Vito made in the deal went right up his nose. He always considered himself a ‘playa.’ Now he’s facing disbarment and God knows what else,” Regan said.

  “Charlie, do you agree with Jack?”

  “Yeah, if we can get access to the Fed’s tapes we got something to run with here,” Ferguson said.

  “OK. What do you want to do with our witness in the meantime?” she asked.

  “We have to put him on ice, in some rehab with 24/7 projection. The Nooris brothers play hardball. If they find out he was wearing a wire, who knows what they’re capable of?”

  Ichowitz flashed his shield at the young man sitting behind the security desk at the Moravian, one of the elegant post-war buildings on South Rittenhouse Square. “Young man, please let Miss Wells know that Detective Ichowitz and Assistant District Attorney Regan are here. She’s expecting us,” he said.

  After a brief discussion the security man hung up the phone and directed them to the elevator and said, “Gentlemen, press the Penthouse, Ms. Wells’ butler will greet you.”

  The elevator opened onto the foyer of her apartment. Bradley Morgan, Courtney’s butler smiled at Jack and said, “Mr. Regan, nice to see you again, and you also Detective Ichowitz. Ms. Wells is waiting for you on the balcony. Come this way, please.”

  Morgan had worked for the Wells family for as long as Jack could remember. He was, as always, dressed elegantly in a Brooks Brothers button-down blue shirt and hounds tooth slacks, an understated manner that was appropriate for the occasion. As far as Jack could see, the man seemingly never aged, and retained his straight posture and fit manner even though he must be well into his seventies. To refer to him as a butler did not accurately describe his role. He was more like a surrogate father, an advisor or mentor to Courtney; he was all of that and much more.

  They followed him through the living room and out to the balcony that looked onto the square and the breathtaking view of the office towers of Center City to the west and an unobstructed view of the city east and south to the Delaware River and the professional sports teams’ stadiums.

  Courtney was sitting on a sofa at the corner of the balcony that provided a view of both directions. She stood up and said, “Jack, Izzy, thank you for coming to my apartment. Can I get you something to drink, coffee, ice tea, Pellegrino? No? Bradley, thank you, I think Detective Ichowitz and Mr. Regan would like to speak with me privately,” she said.

  “Yes ma’am,” he said and retreated from the balcony.

  “Courtney, I remember when your parents moved here from Radnor. The place looks entirely different, but Bradley never changes,” Regan said.

  She smiled and said, “Yes, after mother and father moved to Palm Beach, they insisted that I keep the apartment, and Bradley of course was part of the arrangement. After all, just because they were moving that was no reason to disrupt Bradley.”

  “Please sit down. What is this all about?” she asked.

  “Ms. Wells,” Ichowitz said.

  “Izzy, please you’ve known me since I was a teenager, why the formality? Am I in trouble?”

  “Courtney, you’re not in any trouble; however, you may be able to help us with an investigation,” Regan interjected.

  “Courtney, can you tell us what you were doing at the Pickle Works in Manayunk on Friday, June 8th?” Ichowitz asked.

  Courtney blushed and said, “Yes, I was there that day.”

  “OK, can you tell us about it?”

  She looked at Regan and sighed and said, “I went there to see Ari Nooris, but he wasn’t there.”

  They waited for her to continue.

  “It was in the afternoon, about 3:30. I had to get back here in time to change for the fundraiser at the Union League. I thought he would be there. He was supposed to have returned from Jerusalem that morning. When I got to his condo a young woman answered the door and told me he wasn’t there. That’s something that seems to happen to me lately,” she said and looked at Jack.

  “Courtney, why did you go to Nooris’ condo?” Ichowitz asked.

  She sighed and said, “This is so awkward. I went there to tell him I did not want to see him anymore.” She looked down not wanting to make eye contact with either of them.

  “Did you know the young woman who answered the door?”

  “No.”

  “Was anyone else at the condo when you were there?” Ichowitz asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t go in. I just left.”

  “Jack, I had been seeing Ari off and on for a few months after my divorce. I just never felt right about it. I knew he was married. And …”

  “Courtney, you don’t have to explain anything to us about your relationship with Nooris. Have you seen him or been in contact with him after that?” Jack asked.

  “I sent him a text later that night, after the fundraiser. It seems so long ago, has it only been ten days?”

  Jack asked, “Court, did you know Megan Larson?”

  “Oh my God! Was that the young woman at Ari’s apartment? The woman who was murdered? I read about it, but never put it together. Did Ari have anything to do with that? There was nothing in the newspaper that indicated a connection. Oh I feel so…Jack, Izzy, if I realized I would have come forward right
away.”

  “Courtney, it’s alright. No one is suggesting that you did anything improper,” Ichowitz said.

  As they drove back to the Fourth District, Ichowitz asked Regan, “So what do you think about Courtney and Ari Nooris?”

  “Izz, I really had no contact with Courtney for several years. You hear things, but you know me, I don’t really pay any attention to gossip. Courtney was always attracted to those edgy types. I guess that’s why we went our separate ways.”

  “So, Courtney doesn’t know about Megan Larson and Nooris?”

  “Izz, we don’t know about Megan Larson and Nooris, except he let her stay at his place while he was out of the country,” Regan said.

  “We now know that Nooris and Gallo and Saunders were in on some kind of scam on the Family Division Court House. At least we think we do if Coratelli’s story holds up. That more or less confirms Nooris’ explanation about how he came to be close with Larson. Sooner or later we need to get his DNA to see if he’s the father of her baby. If they were lovers does that mean he’s no longer a suspect?” Ichowitz asked.

  “Or does that mean he had a reason to kill her?” Regan responded.

  Ichowitz shrugged his shoulders. “What did Courtney mean when she made that remark about young women answering doors?”

  Regan told him about Courtney dropping by his house when Kate O’Malley was there cooking dinner for him and her son the previous evening.

  “Jack, you never told Courtney about Kate?”

  “Izz, I was going to tell her after the Broad Street Run, but she bolted before I got to the finish line. I left her half a dozen messages. Besides, there was nothing really to tell her.”

  “Oy-veh,” Ichowitz sighed.

  “Mickey, it’s so nice to see you,” the Honorable Bruce Peter Gallo said.

  “How’s the Chief Justice doing?”

  Mickey Saunders raised an eyebrow at the greeting. Gallo shook his head, signaling Saunders not to say anything of substance. “I was just about to leave for a meeting with the Chamber of Commerce. Walk with me,” the Mayor said, taking Saunders by the arm and leading him out of his office.

  “I’ve heard from a solid source that someone we know is spilling his guts about our arrangement,” he whispered as they walked down the corridor. “I knew that little shit would be a problem.”

  “Mayor, don’t worry about it our friends will know how to handle it,” Saunders replied.

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  “Mickey, please be sure you tell the Chief I was asking about him,” the Mayor said in his public voice as he patted Saunders’ shoulder.

  As soon as he walked outside of City Hall Saunders pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial.

  “Meet me at the construction site in ten minutes. Something has come up that requires your special skills,” he said and hung up.

  FIFTEEN

  Kate O’Malley was singing as she placed the order of produce into the walk-in box.

  “You sound happy,” Mike O’Malley said as he watched his niece work.

  “I’d be even happier if you’d lend a hand,” she replied.

  O’Malley picked up a crate of tomatoes and followed her into the refrigerated box.

  “Uncle Mike, can I ask you something?”

  “Uncle Mike is it,” he said. “Must be something important, I figure to be addressed in that manner.”

  She smiled at him, “I suppose.”

  “Well, what is it; you’re not wantin a raise, are you?”

  “No nothing like that. Jack told me that you introduced him to his wife. Is that so?”

  “Yes, that I did.”

  “Can you tell me about her?”

  “Have you asked Jack about Susan?”

  “Not really.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I just get the feeling he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

  “So you favor Jack. Is that it?”

  Kate looked up at O’Malley and said, “Maybe.”

  He gave her a long look and said, “Come along then,” he said. “Let’s have a cuppa tea and I’ll tell you about Susan and Jack.”

  They sat at the booth near the front window with their mugs of tea. He took a long sip and said, “The story begins with Susan’s parents, Helen and Norman Rothman. They owned the hardware store across the street, where the Pottery Barn is now.”

  “They were survivors of the Holocaust. They met in the death camp, Auschwitz. All of their people perished, but they survived. They were devoted to each other, and pretty much kept to themselves. Soon after they opened, some toughs from up the hill were giving them a hard time. I happened along when three of them were in the store tryin to shake them down. Norman refused and one of them approached Helen. Before I could jump in to help him out, he knocked two of them to the ground and those stinkin scum ran away. Norm was one tough son of a gun.”

  “Anyways, we became friends after that. Because of what happened to her in the death camps, they thought they could never have children. When Helen was in her fifties she conceived. They called Susan the miracle baby. And she truly was God’s gift to these wonderful people.”

  “Susan was a beautiful and brilliant little girl. She called me Uncle Mike from when she was a wee one. I was almost as proud of her as her parents were. She won a full scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania.”

  “Then came the terrible tragedy. Norman and Helen, who had survived the worst unthinkable atrocities anyone could live through, were killed by a drunken driver in a head-on collision on the Schuylkill Expressway. They were driving home after dropping Susan off at her dormitory at Penn. Jack’s Uncle Joe was still on the police force and knew how close I was with Susan. He sent a patrol car over for me to go to Susan’s dormitory.”

  “Susan was devastated. I was the closest thing to family she had. After the funeral and all she came to live here, in the apartment on the third floor where you and Liam live now.”

  “Jack was away at college when Susan’s parents were killed. After he graduated and came to live with his Uncle Joe, I got to know him. He wasn’t the spoiled preppy I thought him to be when I first noticed him hanging around his uncle’s place. He was devoted to Joe, and took care of him when he got sick. He would bring Joe to the Grape and study when Joe and me caroused and lifted a pint or two.”

  “Anyways, when Susan came home for the summer before she started medical school and Jack had brought Joe over to the pub I says to Jack, ‘Whyn’t ya ask my god daughter Susan out for a date instead of the two of you just sittin around watchin the likes of us ?’”

  “One thing led to another, and before you know it I’m walkin Susan down the aisle. What’s that I see - a tear runnin down yer cheek?”

  “Uncle Mike, I had no idea how close you were to that young woman. You must have been devastated when she passed away.”

  “I had to hold it together for Jack’s sake. He’s a good man, Katey. I think he’s just starting to realize that it’s alright to live again. I can tell he favors you and the boy.”

  Kate O’Malley went back to the kitchen to prepare the menu for the evening. She could not stop thinking about the tragic story her uncle had shared about Jack’s wife and her family. She found herself thinking about Jack more and more. She swore she would never let her feelings towards any man make her lose her balance again. After all she was responsible for the well being of her son, Liam. She had left Ireland to make sure that no harm would come to him. Kate could take care of both of them. She had no need for a man in her life. Not now; not until she was sure that Liam would be safe from the trouble she had fled.

  Why did she have to meet Jack Regan now? She would not fall in love with him. She would break it off before it got too serious. She had no choice. She had to protect Liam.

  SIXTEEN

  The night nurse knocked on his door. She was a tall woman with frizzy blond hair. Coratelli looked up at her and smile
d. He was not tolerating his withdrawal in the manner that he had been assured by the doctors. The sedative he had been given less than an hour before had done nothing to dull the agony. The junkie he was, he hoped he could con this nurse into giving him something to help him get through the night.

  “How are you doing, Mr. Coratelli?” she asked as she approached his bed.

  “Not so good. I was wondering if you might be able, you know, to give me a little something.” He was so preoccupied with the pain he failed to realize that the nurse had used his real name and not the false name under which he had been registered at the facility.

  “Let me check your chart and see if you’re due for another sedative,” she said as she reached for the chart at the foot of his bed.

  “No, that’s not necessary; no one gave me anything since I was admitted,” he lied.

  She smiled at him and said, “I can see that you’re having a difficult time. Let me see if I can help you out.”

  She removed a hypodermic needle from her pocket. “Now Mr. Coratelli, this might pinch a bit,” she said as she stuck the needle in his arm.

  As he felt the pinch, he suddenly noticed that she had used his real name. “Hey, how do you know…” he never finished asking his question.

  At 2 AM they found Coratelli’s body on the floor of his room with the hypodermic needle still in his arm. The spoon and lighter and the rest of his works were near his body. No one could explain how he got the drugs into the facility. Charley Ferguson, the DA’s Investigator, was notified by the facility’s administrator within an hour of the discovery. Even though the facility was located in Montgomery County, Ferguson was afforded complete access to the crime scene as a courtesy by his counterpart in the Montgomery County District Attorney’s office.

  At 6 AM Ferguson called his boss to report Coratelli’s death. The preliminary finding of the Montgomery County coroner was “Accidental death by drug overdose.” At 8 AM Susan Romansky called Regan. “Jack, did Charley Ferguson call you?”