by Owen Parr
“You want to tell me how you really feel about them?”
“Seriously.” Shit, I was upset. I wanted to face Evans, and I’d planned a series of questions for him. But Marcy was right. One case at a time. “Did you learn anything new?”
“I only met with Albert.”
“How come?”
“Evans was coming into the conference room, but I noticed Albert motioned for him to stay out. They’re hiding something, I’m sure.”
“About Parker?”
“That and about their business. His body language was all wrong.”
“So, you and brother Dom are experts at body language?”
“I am FBI, you know, and we do learn about these things in the course of training.”
“That’s why you’re a special agent.”
“Hey, Mancuso, don’t be pissed at me. We’re on the same team here, you know?”
She was right. I was pissed and had no reason to take it out on her. “Sorry, Marcelita, mi amiga. I’m just frustrated. We have no body to exhume and examine the wound, assuming we find the murder weapon. We have way too many suspects, all with possible motives, and we’re conducting an off-the-book investigation with limited resources. Otherwise, everything is peachy.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘limited resources.’ I do have an investigation on the way on the partners.”
“And you can parlay that into the suicide case?”
“I have my ways. That’s why I’m a special agent,” she said, smiling at me as she licked the foam of the latte from her upper lip. “Have you heard from Father Dom?”
“No, he was headed first to Mrs. Parker, then to Melody’s apartment on the Upper West Side.”
Marcy’s cell phone rang, and she picked up. I went around the bar and made myself an espresso as she took notes from her conversation.
As she disconnected her phone, she began, “The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission has received complaints about the partners also. They’re trying to move in on our case, from what I just heard.”
“There’s a pissing contest between the two agencies?”
“Typical stuff, everyone wants to score points.”
“What type of complaints?”
“By the partners reducing the returns on the investments, they’ve opened a Pandora’s box. It seems many investors are demanding their invested funds back, to no avail.”
“That was quite a dramatic change, from twelve percent to four.”
“It seems the Securities and Exchange Commission has investigated the partners before and found nothing to go on. Now, they’re afraid of being called fools.”
“I told you, these guys are big political donors. They probably bought their way out of the fire before.”
“Yes, but they never put out the fire. Evidently, the smoldering embers remained, and the fire reignited.”
“You’d think they’d have a warning bell go off and learn something from it.”
“When you have a Ponzi scheme going on, it just grows and grows. You can’t end it. If you do, the whole thing comes crashing down.”
I said, “How can the people that do that live with themselves? They know it can’t last forever, right?”
Marcy replied, “It’s like any other crime, you think you can get away with it.”
“But like you said before, these schemes just take a life of their own, and there’s no ending to it. I couldn’t live with that, knowing that at some point it may crash in and bury me.”
“That’s why it’s a house of cards.”
“Seems to be what’s happening now, except we have one person dead, and another critical in its wake.” I said, as I drank my espresso and lit a cigar.
Marcy took in the bar. “I love the ambiance of this place when there’s no one here. It’s a cozy place to hang out.”
“The cozy feeling, I think, is due to the décor. Here you have your typical Irish pub, nicely worn and comfortable green leather captain’s chairs around the wood tables in the middle of the dark wood plank floors, and the private booths along the left side with the photos,” I said, pointing around.
Marcy added, “One of my favorites is the one of Dom’s dad with George Carlin. I loved Carlin.”
I added, “That picture of Carlin and Dom’s dad was in 1975, the day after Carlin hosted the first-ever Saturday Night Live show. Supposedly, Carlin used to hang out here when he was in New York to get away from the crowds. He loved the fact everyone respected his privacy.”
“Great memories, for sure.”
I asked, getting back to the case, “What now?”
“We’re getting warrants to pull all the financials on the firm and the partners, plus all stock records, buys and sells, customers’ statements, et cetera. This time, they’re getting a full colonoscopy.”
“You think these guys are going to hang around?”
“Why, you think they’ll skip town?”
“Shit, I would. I’d just pack it in and fly out of here.”
“Where to?”
“I’d go to the coast of Montenegro and chill. No extradition treaty.”
“Would you take me with you?”
“I’d take you to the end of the world. But, you’d have to give up your shield. Would you do that for me?”
“What, and not be a special agent anymore?”
“You’d be my special angel.” I knew I was scoring points here.
She didn’t respond. “How soon before Mr. Pat comes in?”
I glanced at my watch. “A couple hours.”
Marcy came around the bar and put her arms around my waist. “Kiss me, you wop.”
15
“I shouldn’t be long. Wait for me here,” said Father Dom to his Uber driver.
“Sir, we don’t get paid for waiting like a cab. Please call up another car when you’re ready. They’ll have one here in minutes.”
Dom replied, “I understand.”
Dom took the elevator to Melody Wright’s apartment on the fourteenth floor and knocked on her door.
“Father, please come in,” she said, holding a thick blue towel wrapped around her otherwise naked body.
“Perhaps I can wait outside,” Dom said, rotating his head everywhere around the apartment avoiding her.
“Don’t be silly. Sit here on the sofa. I’ll be but a minute. Can I get you anything?”
“No, no, thank you. I’m fine. Take your time. I’m a little early.”
“Make yourself at home. Be right back,” she said, walking to her bedroom.
Father Dominic saw a nicely decorated apartment. Country French décor, parquet floors with colorful area rugs throughout. The view of Central Park was magnificent.
“Here we go, thank you for waiting,” Melody said, sitting across from Dom. It had taken her less than two minutes to put on a pink one-piece terry coverall that was no better than the bath towel she had been wearing. Her oversized breasts pointed directly at Father Dom. Her hair was still wet and dripped slightly on her shoulders. “Now, Father, what can I do for you?”
“Yes,” he began, again trying to avoid focusing on her breasts. But he couldn’t help thinking back to his dad, always referring to his granddad’s 1954 Cadillac Eldorado’s front bumper as those ‘big steel tits.’ “We’re trying to tie up some loose ends, and I just have a few more questions.”
“Shoot,” she said.
“I understand that you may have been the last one to see Mr. Parker, before,” he paused, “before the untimely event.”
“I don’t think so. The last time I saw Jonathan was at the bar, at your bar, the evening before. So, I’m sure someone saw him the next day, right?”
“But I heard you visited him the next morning at his office?”
“Oh, yes, I did go to his office, but he wasn’t there. I forgot about that.”
“Were you told that at the reception desk?”
“No, they told me to go back to his office, but he wasn’t there. I waited for a few minutes, th
en left. Why?”
“He wasn’t at his office?”
“No, like I said, he wasn’t in his office. I waited, then left.”
“Why did you go?”
“After we left your bar, we came here, but he dropped me off. Then he called me from the car and told me the trip was off. He gave me no explanation, and here I was, all packed and ready to go.”
“Go on.”
“So, the next morning I tried calling him, but I couldn’t get him on the office phone or his cell phone. So, I went to see him. I wanted to know what happened. Was the trip off, or was he breaking up with me?”
“Why would you think he was breaking up with you?”
“When we left the bar, he was ecstatically happy, and we normally come back here for, like, a romantic time. You understand?”
“Yes, I do. What happened?”
“He got a call from the bi—, I mean, his wife. They fought like usual, and then he dropped me off and drove away, didn’t even kiss me.”
“Right. So, you thought obviously, something happened and were worried.”
“My goodness, he’s not going to drop me like a hot potato like that. I wanted an explanation. We were supposed to get engaged, after all. I mean, I was upset, Father. Wouldn’t you be?” she asked, sitting up and pulling the top of her coverall up.
“I suppose I would be, yes. Was the window of his office opened when you walked in his office?”
“Oh, my God, do you think…” her voice trailed off. She covered her mouth. “Had he already jumped? Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know; it was right around that time. Did you see anyone else at the office?”
“Just the receptionist, Carla. She is so nice to me.”
“No one saw you at his office?”
“No, no one, I guess. Oh wait, they didn’t see me, but Evans and another man were walking like out of his office when I was approaching Jonathan’s office.”
“Could they have been in his office?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Was anything out of order in Mr. Parker’s office?”
“I have to think. I try not to pay attention, because he has pictures of her on his desk. It bothers me to see those, you know?”
“Can you think of anything else about his office?” She thought for a second.
“No, Father, I can’t.”
“No problem. Joey says Mr. Evans called you once about a possible off-Broadway producer?”
“What a sweetheart your brother is. He’s not married, is he?”
“Oh, no. I think he’s spoken for, though.”
“That’s different than being hitched. I’m not doing that again.”
“That’s good, yes.”
“Married men have a lot of baggage, you know? All promises, like politicians, all talk and no delivery. They just want you for the moment. Then, poof, back they go to the reason they came to me in the first place. No more.”
“Life teaches us lessons in many ways. Allow me to ask a couple of more things. Tell me about Mr. Evans.”
“He called again, wanted to meet me for dinner and discuss my acting and modeling background so he can tell his friend the producer.”
“Are you meeting with him soon?”
“We’re supposed to talk today. He wanted to have a quiet dinner here in my apartment and take our time going over my bona fides.”
“He said that?”
“I don’t even know what that is. Do you?”
“Your credentials as an actress, I suppose. Are you planning on meeting with him?”
“I have nothing to lose, and I do want to pursue an acting career.”
“Have you ever met Mr. Albert, the other senior partner?”
Melody moved uncomfortably in her seat and stared up at the ceiling before answering. “No, I have not.”
“Have you ever been to their offices before?”
“Just once. One evening. But Jonathan was the only one there.”
“Did Jonathan talk to you about his work?”
“He was stressed out about that. He always said I was his respite from work. Never knew what that meant either, but I guess I made him happy.”
“‘Respite’ means ‘relief from’ or ‘to take a break from something.’”
“Oh, now I know.”
“So, he was stressed?”
“They put a lot of pressure on him. Money, money, money, you know? He kept saying that he had to bring in a lot of money and new clients. That’s why he was so happy about the new client,” she said, as tears began forming in her eyes.
Father Dom got up. “Thank you so much for your time, I’m sorry—” He didn’t finish as she embraced him.
“Thank you, Father, for listening,” Melody said, not letting go.
Dom pushed back. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Please, go ahead.”
“I noticed a Waterford ashtray like that one,” he began, pointing at it, “At Mr. Parker’s office, and at his home. I’m curious about them.”
“I gave Jonathan three of them as a gift. He loved them, they are big and beautiful.”
“And you kept one here for his use?”
“Oh no, he never smoked here,” she paused, and thought for a moment, “I took that one from his office the morning I was there.”
“You took it? Why?” Dom asked.
“If he was breaking up with me, I didn’t want my gifts there. You know?”
“You said you gifted him three ashtrays?”
“Exactly. He had already taken one to his home, which bothered me. The other two were in his office. One on his desk, the other on the conference table.”
“But you only brought one back?”
“That’s all I found. This one was on his desk, so I took it.”
“I see.”
“Now, the ashtray is something to remember him by,” she said, tearing up. “Father, are Catholic priests allowed to date?” Melody asked.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said.
“Be at peace, Ms. Wright. I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, turning and heading quickly to the front door.
Dominic waited to reach the bottom floor before he placed a call to Joey.
“On my way back, Joey. Is Marcy there?”
“Yeah, bro, see you then,” Joey replied, rather curtly.
“Don’t be such a hothead, Mancuso.” Marcy said, “This murder mystery needs a resolution.”
I thought for a minute there that this was over. I hate it when people go dead and no one is blamed. Admittedly, this could go either way, suicide or murder. My gut was telling me this was a murder—make those two possible murders and at least five suspects.
16
I was anxiously waiting for my brother to return to the tavern with his reports on the interviews of the ladies, Mrs. Adelle Parker and Melody Wright, or “Melody de Amour.” Besides a moment of passion, Marcy and I had covered much of what she did at the offices of Evans and Albert. Knowing my anal brother, we’d have to review her findings with him.
“Marcy, I’m going to buy some sandwiches next door. What can I get you?”
“How about a heated ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese on a Kaiser roll?”
“That sounds good. I’ll get three of those. I’m sure Dom would like that.”
It was convenient having a deli next door. Many of our patrons would bring in their sandwiches and enjoy an adult beverage and a cigar at our place. We enjoyed not having to deal with food service, so we kept our offerings to liquor and cigars. The owner of Dino’s Deli next door couldn’t be happier with the synergy we formed between the two establishments.
Entering the bar with the sandwiches, I found Marcy and Dom putting together two four-tops for our use in the back of the bar.
“So, what do you have for us, brother?” I said, sitting down and passing the food around.
“Thank you,” Dom said, as I handed him his sandwic
h.
“What did you get me?”
“A Marcy special: ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese.”
Making a face, brother Dom added, “It’s Friday, Joey.”
“Yeah, and tomorrow is Saturday, so what?”
“I don’t eat meat on Fridays.”
Marcy smiled at me. “Father, I thought one of the popes changed that rule some years ago.”
“I continue to abstain from meat on Fridays. It’s a form of sacrifice. It gives me great satisfaction to do these things.” Dom replied.
“Why? That buys you more brownie points?” I challenged. “I know, you’re going to get a better seat assignment at the big theater in Heaven.”
“Mancuso, you are such a pagan. Father, how about I call and get you their triple cheese melt? It’s wonderful,” Marcy offered.
“Wow, they call that their la fusione di tre formaggi melt. I love it,” I added.
“That’s fine. Let’s get down to work. The first thing I noticed at the Parker residence is that the Escalade sitting in the driveway doesn’t have any damage to it. There were a bunch of cars there, but Mrs. Parker confirmed it was her car.”
Retrieving the sandwich Dom didn’t want, I asked, “Why were there so many people there?”
“They’d just returned from a service held earlier for Mr. Parker.”
“Was Mrs. P. grieving?”
“She seemed sad and did shed some tears while I was there.”
With a mouthful of turkey, ham, and cheese, I asked, “What else did you find? Is her father back?”
“Why don’t you eat and let others who have manners speak?” Dom quipped.
I nodded for my brother, Mr. Manners, to continue.
“No, her father isn’t back. Supposedly, he was returning today. I saw the red golf bag, the one with the white NIKE logo that I saw at Parker’s office.”
Marcy added, “Today, I noticed the bag wasn’t at his office. The partners did say that Mrs. Parker stopped by to pick up some things.”
Father Dom added, “However, she told me the office sent the golf bag to her home, together with a large Baccarat crystal trophy of some kind and another Waterford ashtray.”
Marcy asked, “Another Waterford?”
Dom added, “She said she has two of the same ashtrays now; one she had at her home, the other came from Parker’s office.”