by Owen Parr
“Oh, I don’t know, I was thinking about it on the way here. That place is no longer there.”
Marcy added, “It’s called the Grand Havana Room, a private cigar club. New York’s club is the second one after their Beverly Hills location. They plan to open one in Coral Gables, Florida.”
“You’re like an expert on this place.”
“I’ve been there,” she replied, smiling.
“Have you now, are you a member?”
“No, silly. We went once to check on a member, it’s nice. You should go and see.”
“I’m not a member, and I already have a cigar bar that I enjoy,” I said, realizing that she didn’t recall the conversation we had about the Top of the Sixes.
After about an hour, or so, Father Dom arrived, and visited with everyone for a few minutes. I was anxious to hear his report on the meeting with Jessica Jones, Mrs. Adams. After a prudent time, I asked Dom to step away, and we went to the cafeteria for more java.
“Dom, tell me about Mrs. Adams.”
“Yeah, that did not go as planned,” he replied.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s one tough cookie. After I introduced myself, she started,” he paused, looked around and lowering his voice added, “giving me shit about the Catholic Church not allowing women to become priests, or priestesses, I guess.”
“Go on.”
“I spent most of the time on defense. She’s a feminist of the first degree, and was relentless in her attack of the church. One thing after another. Boom, boom.”
Laughing, I said, “Brother, I wish I had been a fly on the wall for that one. Were you able to get anything?”
“With respect to opportunity, she has no valid alibi. She says she was out that evening, but could not remember where, or with whom.”
“Did she mention her husband?”
“Yes, he was out also. She doesn’t remember with whom, or where, either. She is friends with Geraldine Francis, the Foundation’s director, and admitted to occasional socializing with her. Although she did not see the angle I was focusing on.”
“I assume you did not broach the subject of LGBTQ with her?”
“Huh, I think that would have been suicide on my part. She is bossy, direct, and fearless about arguing.”
“You met Marshall Adams, do they match as a couple?”
“No, not really. He seems like a laid-back type of guy, mellow and smooth going. Mrs. Adams is a driver, he’s along for the ride. Frankly, I kind of feel sorry for the man.”
“Could she have driven him back to his first love? Sheila Sanders, you think?”
“This is a bit unkind for me to say as a priest, but as a man, I would seek shelter from that —,” he paused, measuring his words, “that person.”
I grinned at his summation, “What about a possible Sheila, Jessica, connection?”
“I don’t know if they were lovers. She did speak in soft tones when we discussed Sheila. I could see a glimmer in her eyes. So, if we assume they had a thing, then I can see Jessica’s role. And frankly her fuse is very short, so, if they had an argument, I would not put it past this lady to explode.”
“You think she could have pulled the trigger twice?”
“Joey, if you met this lady, you’d agree she could easily do that. She’s very aggressive, with a sour attitude, and I don’t like to say things about people.”
“Hah, instead of eliminating suspects, we’re keeping everyone on the list so far. By the way, how tall would you say Mrs. Adams is?”
“I say she is no more than five feet, five inches. Is that important?
“Perhaps, my dear brother, perhaps.”
“You said you’re meeting with Adams and Pearson today?”
Just as he asked that, my cell phone rang. “This is Mancuso.”
“Mancuso, what the hell are you doing?”
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“This is Chuck Pearson. Mr. Longworth just informed us of your idea to dismiss us from the case. What the fuck is that about? We hired you!”
“You did, but technically I’m working for Mr. Longworth.”
“That’s bullshit, Mancuso. What’s this about?”
“Mr. Pearson, my intention was to meet with both you and Adams today to explain why—”
He interrupted, “You’re full of shit if you think we’re meeting. You are doing a disservice to Mr. Longworth at a very crucial time in this trial.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I’ll call Mr. Adams to explain.”
“Don’t even think of doing that. If you think I’m pissed, Marshall is beside himself. These guys are like brothers, and now you’ve damaged that relationship.”
“Frankly, sir, I think it’s for the benefit of Mr. Longworth.”
“You better be right, you better be right.” was the last thing he said, before he hung up on me.
Dominic’s eyes were glued on me. “Doesn’t sound like he took it kindly.”
“Wow, we struck a chord, I think,” I stated.
“What now? I guess you won’t be meeting with them.”
“You know what? Maybe it’s for the best. Fuck them, let them answer my questions from the stand. These guys haven’t done shit for their client in a year. They had no defense, only a hope and a prayer, if that.”
Dom pushed back his coffee mug, “Let’s go visit with Marcy for a few minutes. You want to get an early dinner?”
“Good. Speaking of dinner, Dino stopped by the pub, seems he wants to sell his deli and thought of asking us first.”
“Really, he’s selling?”
“Not actively yet, from what Mr. Pat said. He wants to retire in Costa Rica.”
“Do we want to run a Jewish deli, and an Irish pub?”
“Doesn’t make sense, right? But, what if we added Irish food?”
“With all due respect to my Irish roots, there’s not much to add. Maybe corned beef and cabbage, Irish stew, perhaps black pudding, potato pancakes.”
“Or, what if we expanded our cigar bar and opened a cigar club? Where people could have their own humidors, and wine lockers. Make it cozy and comfortable. What do you think?”
“It’s a big place to just do a cigar club.”
“Perhaps we can take part of it for our offices. Right now, we work from our pub’s booths. It’d be nice to have a real office, don’t you think?”
“Why pay a premium for the business if we’re not going to keep it. All we want is the space.”
“I know, but, who’s to say that someone else won’t buy the deli.”
“Can we shelve this for a few days?” Dom asked.
I nodded in the affirmative as my phone rang again.
“Mr. Mancuso, this is Ruth Goldstein, at Bevans and Associates.”
“Yes, Mrs. Goldstein, how are you? And, please call me Joey.”
“You do the same, and call me Ruth, please. Let me give you an update. We have spoken to Mr. Longworth and he has retained us. Further, we put in a call to the judge, Samuel Wesley, and he just called back. It turns out he had recessed the case for the New Year’s holiday, until the fourth of January. We have a meeting tomorrow morning to ask for a continuance.”
“Sounds like we may have a little more time.”
“Perhaps, yes. How about you stop by tomorrow, and give us an update. Mr. Longworth wants you involved, naturally. And by the way, we can show the space that’s available for you. Bring your brother with you.”
“You are always closing, Ruth,” I said, grinning, “call me after you come back from meeting Judge Wesley, and I’ll come over then,” I said, leaving any mention about Father Dom, from the conversation.
“Fantastic, I can’t wait to hear what you guys have uncovered.” Ruth said.
“One more thing, Ruth. The two investigators you guys currently have. Are they available?”
“Larry, and Harry, yes, they are. Why, you need them?”
“Larry, and Harry?”
“Larr
y Smits, and Harry Silver. We lovingly call them Larry and Harry. They are available.”
“Great. I have a job for both. Could you have them call me on my cell?”
“Will do.”
Dom was sitting there, and seemed curious about the conversation. “Was that the new attorney for Longworth?” he asked.
“Mrs. Ruth Goldstein, yes. You met her and the managing partner for the firm the other day.”
“What was it they wanted with us?”
I thought for a second, I might as well tell him, now. Otherwise, at some point in this process he’s going to find out from them. “They want to set us up with a private investigation practice, and feed us all, or at least, most of their cases.”
“Really?” he asked, as his facial expression expanded with a grin.
“They suggested we take office space in their building and open an office there. I’m not sure about that, though.”
“Joey, that’s an excellent offer.”
“It is, brother, but I’m committed to running the pub, as we agreed. I’m not abandoning that.”
“I appreciate that, but this is something you would love to do on a full-time basis.”
“I wouldn’t mind working cases for them. But, setting up shop in an office building? I don’t know if we want to do that.”
“You have to do what works best for you. I can’t keep you tied to the pub. After all, I work the pub on a very limited basis, myself. My church duties are my priority.”
“Yes, but I made a commitment to you that I would run the pub after your Dad passed away. I’m not going to renege on that.”
“Maybe we can find a happy middle-of-the-road solution. You mentioned the space next to our pub, Dino’s Deli, were you thinking about that before?”
“That just happened today, total coincidence. But yes, that might be a way to do it. Run our investigations from there. And, I think we can offset the cost of the rental with a cigar club tied in to the pub.”
“Mr. Pat already works too much. We’re going to kill him, if we give him more work.’
“I think we should make Mr. Pat a partner, and give him a piece of the business. We can hire someone to run the cigar club. I believe there is a market for that in our area. We already cater to an excellent Wall Street market of executives, traders, the NYPD brass is just two blocks away, and the rest.”
“Something to think about,” Dom said, as he went into deep thought.
“There’s more,” I said.
“What?” he asked, opening his eyes wide.
“My old captain at the precinct, Captain Alex Johnson at the NYPD, wants us to become consultants to their homicide division.”
“When did all this happened?”
“Everything happened Monday. But, we’ve been busy. I told him I could not even consider his offer for now.”
“Wow, you’re full of surprises. How many cases can we work?”
“Keep in mind, we’d be free to accept or reject cases. We don’t have to work them all.”
“I think we should complete this case we are on, and then, consider all these offers you’ve received. Agreed?”
“Totally, brother. Let’s find our killer.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Friday, December 30th
I felt relieved after having discussed the offers with Father Dominic. Frankly, the few days that I had kept them from him bothered me. Dom was my half-brother, but he was also like a father to me. We trusted each other implicitly, and we never kept anything from each other. His reaction, however, was unexpected. I would have thought that he would be bothered by my almost excitement, which I tried to conceal, but naturally came across in my delineation of the two offers. Yet, he understood my angst to solve mysteries, and be challenged by a good case. While a good priest, and a pragmatic one at that, he, too, loved the quest of the unsolved mysteries we involved ourselves in.
My morning destination was to head to the now empty home of the Longworths in Sagaponack, New York, and examine the property. Mr. Longworth had not occupied the home since the murder, instead opting to live in a house they had in Connecticut, for the last year. Arrangements were made for me to meet the maid, Luisa Sanchez, who had been in the employ of the family for the previous five years.
Arriving at the home, which was more like a mansion, set on a two-acre plot of land, with a manicured lawn and a varied landscape of bushes and flowers surrounded by a row of evergreens along the perimeter of the home, my only regret, was that at this time of year, I would not appreciate the full bright colors of the landscape.
Luisa saw me drive up, and waited for me in the porte-cochère of the home.
“Mr. Mancuso, good morning to you,” she said, as I approached the front door. Luisa had a genuine smile on her face. She was a petite lady of about sixty, maybe five-feet-two inches in height, with her gray hair in a bun, and wearing a light blue uniform.
“Luisa, thank you for being here,” I said, walking into an expansive foyer with white marble floors. “Would you be kind enough to show me the home?”
“Yes, sure. First floor first?”
“That would be fine.”
We walked around the living room, dining room, and library, or den, that occupied the right side of the home. “Is everything as it was, a year ago?”
“You mean when Mrs. Longworth passed?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean.”
“Nothing has been changed. I just come in twice a week to clean, and open the property for a little bit of air. It’s a shame this beautiful home is empty.”
“Were you here the day Mrs. Longworth,” I paused, “passed away?”
“I was here in the morning and the afternoon. I left about five in the evening.”
“Did you always leave after your work was completed, or did you live here?”
“The home has two rooms, I’ll show you in a minute, for servants. One of them is for me. But, Mrs. Longworth did not care if I left to my own home. I would stay, if they needed me for a party or a dinner. I was free to stay anytime.”
“And, had you planned on leaving that evening?”
“Mrs. Longworth had told me to go home, and be with my family. So, I left about five-thirty in the evening.”
“I see. Let me ask you about the roses that were delivered that day. Were you here when they arrived?”
“Yes, beautiful yellow roses from Mr. Longworth. I put them in their bedroom.”
“Was Mrs. Longworth a good boss?”
“Beautiful lady, very kind and generous. She was very, how you say, considerada.”
“Considerate,” I added.
“Yes, always asking about my family and giving us things.”
“How about Mr. Longworth?”
“He is a gentleman, muy cariñoso, you know?”
“A loving person?”
“Yes, very loving. You speak Spanish?”
I laughed, “Italian, but my girlfriend is Cuban from New Jersey.”
“Me too, from Union City.”
“Sí, muy bueno,” I said in my poor Spanish, but I wanted to get back on the case. “Was anything broken in the living room the evening Mrs. Longworth passed away?”
“I was not able to enter home for one week. They had that yellow tape around. But, no, nothing was broken, from what I can tell.”
“And of course, you have cleaned everything?”
“Oh yes. Can’t have dust, Mr. Longworth has allergies.”
“What kind of allergies?”
“I think to dust and perfumes.”
“Perfumes?”
“Yes, I had to change mine. Mrs. Longworth would buy for me, the kind he was not allergic to.”
“Can you show me the kitchen?” We walked through the formal dining room, and an informal dining area, before arriving at the large, what some would call, gourmet kitchen. I noticed a side-door leading to the exterior of the home. “Where does this door lead to?”
She opened the door and we both walked
outside. There was a small paved driveway that veered off, at a ninety-degree angle, from the main semi-circle driveway at the front entrance. I noticed a small Toyota parked there. “Is this your car?”
“Yes, old but good,” she said, grinning.
I walked up the driveway to where it connected to the main entrance. It was a good fifty yards long and somewhat hidden from the front port-cochère. I noticed the Carrier brand central-air conditioning unit was adjacent to the home, alongside the driveway, somewhat hidden with a bush. It was a gray-tan color, however, it seemed that an automobile had scraped it, and left what looked like baby blue paint on it. I guessed from the car itself, although there was some rust building on the unit, on the area that had been scratched.
Walking back into the kitchen, I looked through the kitchen cabinets where the china and glasses were stored, examined the large pantry, and a beautiful wine cooler, the size of a refrigerator.
“Has anything been removed, or added since the day of the murder?”
“Nothing. Only the police, and me, have been in the home since that day.”
“But, Mr. Longworth must have been back to pack some clothes?”
“No, he don’t want to come to home. I packed suits, shirts, and everything for him to take to other home.”
I asked, “Tell me, was anything broken in the kitchen?”
She thought for a second, “I don’t know.”
“Maybe wine glasses?”
“Oh yes, two wine glasses are missing,” she replied, in astonishment that I would know that.
“Two white wine glasses?”
“Sí, white wine glasses.”
“When did they break? Would you know?”
“I think the day of, you know.”
“Why, because the day before, they were all here?”
“Yes, twelve, then only ten.”
“Can you show me the bedrooms?”
I followed Luisa up the curved sprawling stairs. I could picture, Margery, the Longworth’s daughter, walking down these stairs in her wedding dress, if she ever got married here. Perfect setting for wedding photos. Shiny brass railing on one side, and a display of expensive art work along the opposite side on the wall leading upstairs. The same white marble steps, as in the rest of the home.
