A Murder on Long Island: A Joey Mancuso Father O'Brian Crime Mystery (A Joey Mancuso, Father O'Brian Crime Mystery Book 2)

by Owen Parr

  “Hi, Joey, what are you up to?” she answered.

  “Hey, Marcy, how was your day with your new partner?” I asked, not wanting to know.

  “We’re still here at the office. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

  “You are having dinner with this guy?”

  “I’m still bringing him up to speed on a case we’re on, and we thought of continuing over dinner.”

  I was silent for a few seconds.

  “Joey? Are you still there?” Marcy asked.

  “I thought we were having dinner, and then headed to your place? But, I guess bringing Tony up to speed, changed all that.”

  “If you can’t join us for dinner, you can still come over to my place later.”

  “Is Tony going to join us there?”

  “Oh, I see what the issue is. No Joey, he is not,” she whispered into the phone.

  “Tell you what, I’ve got a new case we’re working. I’ll just get something to eat. We can meet up tomorrow,” I replied.

  “Joey, tomorrow we fly to Washington for meetings, I’ll be back in two days. Come over tonight.”

  My ride arrived at the front of the pub. “Marcy, I’m just back to the pub. I’ll call you later and let you know.”

  “I want to see you tonight. Call me,” Marcy said, with a sexual undertone she knows drives me crazy.

  “I will,” I replied, softly. Perhaps I was making this guy Tony into something he was not. I mean, he is an asshole, but maybe that’s all he is.

  Agnes was already at the pub, enjoying Father Dom’s company. She had corralled him in the Johnny Carson booth, and I could tell Dom was a little uncomfortable. His face lit up when he saw me, it was like reinforcements were coming and he could retreat into the background.

  “Can I join you guys, or am I interrupting something?” I asked, smiling at Dom.

  Dom frowned and replied, “Have a seat, I need to get back to help Mr. Patrick.”

  “Not so fast Padre, I need you here to brainstorm a few things on the new case we signed onto.” I said, taking a seat in the booth, next to Agnes. I bumped my elbow with hers. “You’re looking good, bella cara.”

  Agnes blushed, opened a notebook, knowing she would be taking notes for research purposes. “What case are you guys working on?” she asked.

  I replied, “The Longworth murder case.”

  “The real estate developer who killed his wife?” She asked, with a little surprise in her voice.

  I turned to face Agnes, “Allegedly killed his wife; he hasn’t been found guilty yet.”

  Agnes added, “But the case has only a few days left. I’ve been following it on the news. The prosecution is about to rest.”

  “It seems Mr. Longworth’s daughter wanted us involved in the case, and we were just hired by Adams and Pearson, the attorneys, to give it a once over as they prepare their defense,” I replied.

  Dom queried, “I wonder when his daughter asked us to get involved. It seems we're a bit late to this party.”

  Agnes took the cap off her pen and asked somewhat dumbfounded, “What is it they want you guys to do?”

  Dom responded, “Oh, just find the murderer.”

  Agnes was speechless as she opened her mouth wide, “That’s all?”

  “We have nine days left before the defense rests. So, let’s get busy,” I said.

  Agnes asked, “Where do you want me to start?”

  “I want a background check on the attorneys, Marshall Adams and Chuck Pearson, probably Charles, right?”

  Dom sat back and asked, “You want to start with the lawyers? Why?”

  Paraphrasing Captain Kirk of the Enterprise, I replied, “Let’s go where no one has gone before. Make a note, Agnes, Adams and Longworth are personal friends. They’ve known each other since school, and they socialize, or socialized, with their spouses. I don’t know much about Pearson, his partner.”

  Agnes was taking notes, and asked without raising her head, “Where do they live?”

  “I don’t know that. Longworth’s home, the location of the murder is in Sagaponack, Long Island. I suspect Adams lives there, also. He mentioned their kids went to the same schools. No clue on Pearson.”

  Agnes raised her head, “That’s an area with some of the highest priced homes in the country. As a matter of fact, you have two photos in the pub of former residents of Sagaponack. Do you know who they are?”

  Dom, not being one for small talk or trivia, glanced at me, a little exasperated.

  I asked, “Who would those two be?”

  Agnes smiled, “Truman Capote, and Andy Warhol. You should know these things.”

  Dom interrupted the trivia quiz, “Joey, I need to get back to the church, what do you want me to do?”

  “I need you to question Mr. Longworth tomorrow. It’s being set up. Can you do that?”

  “Anything else?” Dom asked, a bit impatient.

  “There’s something about Pearson that bothers me.”

  Dom asked, “And what is that?”

  “He keeps repeating the answers when you ask him a question. For instance, if you ask him, is today Monday? He’ll reply, ‘today is Monday, today is Monday.’ What’s up with that?”

  Dom, again a bit impatient, queried, “How is that relevant to our case?”

  Before I could reply that it wasn’t, Agnes said, “I don’t know if it’s the same, but, my Dad suffered from a symptom called Palilalia, it’s a speech disorder. It could be a precursor to other more serious symptoms, down the road.”

  “I don’t see that as relevant. What else, Joey?” Dom asked.

  “For now, that’s all. I’m going to see if I can talk to the detectives at the Suffolk County Police in the morning. Then, I’ll swing by Longworth, and question him again. After that, we can compare notes. Can you do that?”

  “I’m done at seven-thirty, after my second Mass. Call me with the details,” Dom said, as he slid out of the booth.

  Agnes swung her head around, making her long ponytail go from side to side, and in a coquettish fashion said, “I’ll see you at Mass, Father.”

  Dom didn’t reply, he just smiled and waved goodbye, but then he turned around and asked me, “What did the second duo of attorneys want?”

  “Oh, those guys, nothing important. I’ll talk you about that at another time.” I replied, not wanting to get into that topic for now.

  I slid out and took a seat across from Agnes. “Agnes, find out if there are any other murder cases on Long Island around the same time, and any break-ins and robberies.”

  “The Long Island serial killer case is still open.”

  “Yeah, but that has no bearing here. Those victims, I think, were all call girls and much younger. It doesn’t fit the profile of the perpetrator. However, I’ll run that by Marcy, and have her check the FBI files.”

  “Anything else you want me to consider?”

  “Yes, get as much as you can on Longworth, himself, and Mrs. Longworth. Supposedly, he suspected his wife of having an affair, and she wanted a divorce.”

  “It’s not looking good for him, Joey.”

  I replied slowly, “That’s what everybody keeps telling me.”

  Agnes glanced around the pub, and lowering her voice, she asked, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s not about you, it’s about your brother. Do you mind?”

  Huh, finally, here it comes, I thought to myself. “Go ahead, if I can answer it, I will.”

  “I’m a little embarrassed Joey, but I need to ask. “Is he happy being a priest?”

  “What you mean is, would he consider giving up the priesthood?”

  “Again, it’s embarrassing, but I’m attracted to him,” she said, sheepishly. “And I don’t want to waste my time. I’m mid-forties, divorced, and would love to share my life with someone. Is there a chance —,” she didn’t finish the sentence.

  “Agnes, I’ll answer with a cliché, life is full of surprises. Do
minic has been a priest since he was twenty-one. He was an adult before taking his vows, and I know he was not a virgin when he did. He’s never shared with me his feelings about that. I do know, from what he’s said, that the church has changed a lot in some ways, but in others, is not keeping up with the younger generation. And, he feels it’s becoming harder to preach to them and keep them interested and devoted to the faith.”

  “Meaning he’s not happy?” she said, with a slight gleam in her eyes.

  “He’s adapted his preaching and teachings with an attempt to reach the younger folks. You can say he’s become a tad more socially liberal, knowing that if he doesn’t, he’ll lose the new generation.”

  “For instance?”

  This conversation was a little out of my pay-scale, but Agnes had good intentions. “Take for example, the issue with contraception. He feels the church allows it, but you can only do it via the rhythm method, right? Therefore, if they allow it, why not just allow it? Some families can’t properly raise four, five children. They want to have one or two and be done with it.”

  “But then that gets into the issue of sex outside of marriage.”

  “That’s a whole other topic, isn’t it? I grew up Catholic, attended parochial school, and I was taught that if someone was divorced and remarried, they would be living in sin. And that meant they were going to hell.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That doomed my mother, Dom’s mom also. She was going to hell because she had divorced Dom’s dad, and married my father. So, what did I do? I prayed that Sergeant O’Brian, Dom’s father, would die. Then, my mother could marry my dad again, inside the church. I finally realized how dumb that was, but for years I prayed daily, thinking my mom was going to burn in hell.”

  “Did you ever share that with Father Dominic?”

  “No way, tell him I wanted his dad dead? Not in a million years, he adored his dad. However, he understands the dilemma, and privately he counsels his flock about that. Otherwise, he knows they will ultimately walk away from the church.”

  “Sounds like he is committed to continuing as a priest.”

  “I know he worries about the fact fewer and fewer young people are finding the calling, and the church is suffering from a huge hiring issue.”

  “Joey, I appreciate you being candid with me about this. I think I may have to search elsewhere for my right guy. It’s just that I have feelings for Father Dom.”

  “I’m not a psychologist, Agnes, but sometimes we long for the things that we can’t have, just because we can’t have them, right?”

  “Perhaps, but it’s more than that, in this case,” she paused, closing her eyes. “Speaking of a case, I better get busy with my new assignment. You’ve given me a lot of research.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t be more encouraging,” I said, sounding a bit apologetic.

  “No, but that was revealing. I think I know what I need to do. I’ll call you as soon as I have something to report.” Agnes said, sliding out of the booth.

  I slid out of the booth myself, kissing Agnes on the cheek, as my cell phone vibrated.

  “Marcy, how you doin’?”

  In a soft and sensual voice, almost whispering into the phone, she said, “Come over and make love to me.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Tuesday, December 27th

  It was a beautiful ending to a busy day. I made steaks on Marcy’s unapproved grill on her balcony, while she prepared a tossed salad and a double baked potato. A delightful Pinot Noir, advertised as ‘seductive’, added to the relaxed ambiance of her abode. Romance ensued with fervor, as was our custom, and we both enjoyed a good night.

  Marcy was my soul mate, and I wanted nothing more than to gaze into her eyes, the color of the ocean just before sunset, forever. It was a type of relationship that called for few words. Just being together, occasionally glancing at each other, felt satisfying and fulfilling. I had not dared discuss the offers about a new office, or the consulting job with the NYPD. Last night had not been the moment. Frankly, I didn’t know how to approach her on the topic. She wanted me out of law enforcement. My near-death experience, almost two years ago, had been enough for her. I understood, but it was a conundrum for me, and something I would have to deal with, soon.

  I got up at six in the morning, and made breakfast for us. She loved my French toast, and I made the café con leche, using her grandmother’s recipe in Cuba, which called for a tiny pinch of salt added to the boiled milk, espresso, and sugar.

  She walked into the kitchen with her long amber hair loose, sleepy eyed, and wearing only one of my old long tee-shirts over her incredible body.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” I said, smiling.

  She kissed me. “Thank you for breakfast. The cafe con leche, smells delicious. What’s your schedule look like today?”

  “I told you about our new case?”

  “No, we didn’t have much time yesterday. I thought you would, over dinner.”

  “I didn’t want to spoil our evening with work stuff. We’ve been hired by the defense attorneys to work on the Longworth murder case. And yes, we’re getting in at the last minute, but they asked.”

  “I know the FBI was involved momentarily at the start, but it seemed a clear case of the husband being the murderer, so we left it to the Suffolk County police.”

  “That seems to the consensus. Even his attorneys have little hope of an acquittal.”

  “Why get involved?”

  First, Longworth’s daughter, she’s nineteen, asked that we look at the case. Secondly; the attorneys said we had an open checkbook, and thirdly -,”

  She interrupted, “Money is not a motivator for you guys.”

  “I was getting to that, thirdly; you know I like to work under pressure, and the time constraint added a certain allure to it. It’s like being Tom Brady in the fourth quarter, and being down by ten points.”

  She smiled, “Unless he’s playing against Eli Manning.”

  “Touché.”

  “Is there a fourth point?”

  “Indeed, there is, my dear Watson. The conclusion reached by everyone, including the attorneys for Longworth, is that he’s guilty. From what I’ve seen in the news, the police wrapped this in a matter of days. No one has given this guy the benefit of the doubt.”

  “But, there’s so much evidence against him.”

  “I know, that’s what makes it interesting. The obvious is all stacked against him. Has anyone gone beyond the obvious? I don’t think so. The police never bothered to find other suspects with opportunity and motivation. It was all in a tightly packaged gift for them.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I have an old buddy from when we were patrolmen in the city. He’s now a homicide detective with the Suffolk police. I want to ask him a few questions.”

  “Is he going to talk to you at this stage?”

  “He owes me a favor. We’re meeting for coffee, off the record. Then, I’m meeting with Mr. Longworth. Father Dom is meeting with him first thing this morning. Agnes is on the case, researching the defense attorneys, and both the Longworths.”

  “Why the defense attorneys? You have a hunch?”

  “I don’t know, something is bothering me about how this whole case was investigated and is being handled. One of the senior law partners, Adams, is a friend of Longworth’s, has been, since high-school. They’ve stayed friends, socialized.”

  “Sounds like you have your hands full, for the next few days.”

  “Tell me about Special Agent Tony.”

  “I was wondering when you were going to get around to that.”

  “Like I said, I didn’t want to spoil the evening.”

  “He’s very stiff, very by the book, and a little condescending.”

  “Then you agree with me that he’s an asshole.”

  “Hah, I see you liked him. He is also an excellent agent, has an incredible record, and wants to move up in the ranks.”

  “Keep your eyes op
en for him. Some of these types are two-headed snakes. They smile with one, and with the other, they’re savoring their prey.”

  “My madre didn’t raise no fool. I’ve seen his type, I’ll be okay. Thank you for caring, though,” she said, smiling.

  “Do me a favor, if you have anything on this case that you can dig up, let me know.”

  She got up from the dining room table, collecting the plates and mugs, and her tee-shirt was up a bit, exposing her otherwise naked body.

  “What time do you have to be at your office?”

  An hour and a half later, with my legs a little wobbly, I met Detective First-Grade, Angelo Levy. Italian mother and Jewish father, obviously. We had walked the beat in New York City, maybe thirteen years ago. On one occasion, he had been a fraction overzealous in his approach to an arrest of a suspected thief who was terrorizing the local electronic stores. In the process, he had broken the perp’s arm. I covered for him, labeling the arrest of the man, as ‘resisting arrest and striking an officer,’ which is a crime onto itself.

  Walking into a coffee shop on North Long Beach Road, Angelo was there, waiting for me, “Paisano, come stai? I said, smiling and opening my arms.

  “Detective Mancuso, you know I don’t speak Italiano. How are you, buddy? It’s been a while,” he said, getting up and embracing me.

  “I know, but you speak Jewish.”

  “Jewish is a religion, I speak Hebrew, you fool.”

  “I know, just giving you a hard time. It has been over ten years since you broke that bastard’s arm,” I said, making sure he remembered why he owed me.

  “That’s why I’m here, Joey.”

  “I’m Italian, brother, favors are like currency in my tribe.”

  “In all tribes, I suppose. Sounds like you’re here to collect on an old debt.”

  “Did you have a chance to research the case?” I asked, sitting down at the table.

  Maggie, as her name tag read, with bright red hair, tiny teeth the size and color, of corn of the cob, asked, “What will you have love?”

  I smiled, and simply pointed to Angelo’s coffee as the waitress came over.

  “You sure you want to use up your currency on this one? The husband is guilty as hell.”