Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  “What do you do there?”

  “I’m an analyst training to be a portfolio manager.”

  Surprised, Father Dom rubbed his hands. “What’s your role as an analyst?”

  “I do research on the securities before we add them to the portfolio I’m assigned to.”

  “I didn’t know there was more than one portfolio.”

  “Yes, the hedge fund manages three different types of funds, a growth portfolio called Alpha, a fixed-income portfolio called Gamma, and the one I work on. It’s a balanced portfolio, called Stable.”

  “Can you share anything about the funds?”

  Ignoring the question and speaking in a low voice, Arturo said, “Father, I’ve done some things I shouldn’t have.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  Arturo pulled out an envelope from his jacket’s interior pocket. Glancing around, he asked, “Are we alone?”

  “We are. Tell me, how long had you and Kathy been together?” Asked Dom, eyeing the envelope.

  “We’d been dating for two years,” Arturo replied, composing himself. “I want to confess something, Father.”

  This took Dom by surprise. “I’m not ready to hear confessions at the moment.”

  Arturo interjected, “No, not in that sense, Father.”

  Relaxing a bit, Dom replied, “Then, go ahead.”

  Arturo went on for a few minutes telling Dom about his relationship with Kathy and disclosed a few interesting things relevant to the partners and the manner they managed the various funds. He then proceeded to reveal some of the papers that were inside the envelope he’d brought with him.

  The conversation ended abruptly when Mr. Pat walked in to the pub.

  “Who is that?” Arturo asked somewhat nervously.

  “It’s fine; that’s our manager,” Dom responded.

  Mr. Pat waved as Dom nodded to him.

  “That’s all I have, Father. I have to get back to work now. Can you keep these papers safe?”

  “Not to worry. We’ll do everything we can to solve this and bring to justice those that are involved.”

  “I trust you will, Father.”

  “May I ask you one last question?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Did you call the police with any of this information?”

  He lowered his head again and said, “I’m afraid not, Father. I don’t trust too many people. I only talk to you because Kathy liked you and you’re a priest.”

  “Okay, Arturo, may God be with you.”

  “And with you, Father,” Arturo replied and walked out of the pub.

  Dom sat at the table. He began to go over the documents that lay open on the table and took out his notebook, jotting down a few things. He smiled.

  Marcy was back at her New York City office at FBI headquarters.

  Victoria, Marcy’s boss approached her, “The SEC [In chapter twenty, I put “SEC” in parentheses] is upset that the FBI initiated a new investigation after they already completed their own investigation. And in a few words, they told us there was no case to pursue regarding the insider-trading allegations.”

  Marcy replied, “I at least expected the DA’s office to follow up on the new tip received about insider trading, hoping that since these two agencies compete for convictions, the DA would at least continue their own inquiry.”

  Victoria got closer to Marcy. In a hushed voice, she said, “Yes, but the response was a resounding no.”

  Marcy argued, “There’s a potential money-laundering scheme going on, but we have no proof at the present time. At least they should let us pursue that.”

  “Like you said, we have no proof,” Victoria said, “and I’m not about to risk my job on that. In plain English, they told us to cease and desist any further probing into Evans and Albert.”

  “How can we get proof, if we can’t investigate?”

  Victoria ignored Marcy’s comment and added, “Furthermore, you’re reminded that you cannot aid your boyfriend, former NYPD detective Joey Mancuso, with what some are calling a personal vendetta on his part against Mr. Evans.”

  “Mr. Mancuso is exploring the suicide angle on his own. I have nothing to do with that,” retorted Marcy.

  Victoria was losing her patience. “Mancuso is concocting a homicide out of a clear suicide case, and he’s trying to implicate Evans.”

  Marcy thought for a minute and decided to remain silent.

  “Marcy,” Victoria began in a calmer tone, “If you assist him in any way, you might face a disciplinary hearing with a minimum penalty of being reassigned to some forsaken field office somewhere in the world. Is that what you want?”

  Marcy was fuming as she sat back in her cubicle. “Understood.”

  Victoria started to walk away and turned back to Marcy. “Collect all your files on this case, and turn them over to me within the hour. I’ll assign you a new case involving some Russian bond certificates that were suspected of being forgeries.”

  “That case has been around forever.”

  “That’s right, and it hasn’t been solved. Your turn to take a crack at it,” Victoria said emphatically.

  Frustrated, Marcy called Joey from her cell phone. Joey’s phone went into voice mail, and this pissed her off even more. She left a message: “Joey, I have a new case, some bullshit about Russian forged bond certificates. This case has been around for years, and now they want to pursue it again. The case of Evans and Albert is closed on our end. I’m pissed. I hope you guys come up with something. Later.”

  25

  Edmonton gave us a valuable piece of evidence he’d cautiously saved for some time. Gingerly, Lucy bagged the item and placed tape around the ends, then placed the item in the trunk of her car. Upon her return to her precinct, she’d enter the item into evidence. We had no clue if it’d lead to something, but a clue is a clue. I noticed I had a voice mail from Marcy, and after listening to her message, I texted her to meet us at the bar later.

  I turned to Lucy and said, “I want to make a stop before we get back. Do you have the time?”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “It’ll only take a few minutes, and I want to check something out.”

  “Point the way, Detective Mancuso,” she replied, amused.

  The ride back to Manhattan’s Financial District through the Holland Tunnel was smooth. Lucy and I reminisced about some of our old cases, and I was able to explain, in detail, what our current case was about and how it could tie Evans to both instances.

  Arriving back at the bar, I saw two familiar faces sitting in their car about half a block from our front door. I waved at Farnsworth and Charles, which garnered a one-finger salute from the driver’s side of the plain wrapper.

  After saying my goodbyes to Lucy and promising we’d be at her home Sunday, I walked into the bar to see the smiling red-bearded face of Mr. Pat, getting ready to open at two in the afternoon, and brother Dominic, sitting at a table and feeling exuberant.

  “Is Marcy here yet?”

  “Not yet,” Mr. Pat replied.

  Father Dom was smiling. “Mr. Pat,” he said, “get Joey a MacAllan eighteen neat and the Rocky Patel cigar he likes. Joey, come on back, brother, and have a seat.”

  “The MacAllan eighteen? You fox, what have you got?” I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  Patrick brought over the single malt and my cigar, and Dom proceeded to tell me about the conversation with Arturo, showing me the documents Arturo had handed him.

  I, feeling good, went over our conversation with Edmonton. The item he’d handed us was on its way to the evidence locker at the precinct.

  Taking a slow sip of my single malt, I said, “It’s been a good afternoon, brother. This is really good.”

  “The information we got?” Dom asked haughtily.

  “No, the MacAllan. Good choice, the eighteen.”

  “I have more good news,” Dom said with a snide expression.

  “More? Let’s have it.”


  “My favorite parishioner called.”

  “Agnes?”

  “Your hunch paid off. She’s got new information for us. It should be in our emails in a few minutes. I asked that she send it to both of us.”

  “I love it, bro. Except now she’s going to start emailing you all the time.”

  “Shoot, I didn’t think of that,” Dom replied with a scowl.

  Marcy walked in with a moping face. She said her hellos to Patrick, ordered a drink, and sat at our table. “I can see you guys seem to be enjoying something. Glad somebody is happy.”

  “What did you order?”

  “A Pellegrino,” she replied.

  I asked her, “Are you still on duty?”

  “F’en no. Sorry, Father.”

  Dom smiled and called out to Mr. Pat. “Mr. Pat, bring Ms. Marcy a Zacapa rum on the rocks with two ice cubes, please.”

  “Wow, we must be celebrating. I’m glad, because I need something to cheer me up.”

  “Sit back and relax,” I said, taking a drag from my cigar.

  We opened the email from Agnes and were excited to see the results of her new research. We then discussed with Marcy everything that both Father Dom and I had uncovered during the day.

  Now we had to plan our presentation to the various players and I, as usual, came up with a brilliant idea.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” I said, adding, “We’ll invite the participants to our reveal on Monday at ten in the morning to gather here at Captain O’Brian’s. At which point, we’ll play our new and exciting show of whodunit.”

  “Why not Sunday?” Dom asked.

  “Two reasons,” I began. “Tomorrow, Marcy and I have a lunch invitation that we cannot miss, and more importantly, it’s going to be hard to get all these people to come in on a Sunday.”

  “Where are we having lunch?” Marcy asked.

  “The Roberts have asked us to join them for Harry’s world- famous short ribs, and Lucy is making your recipes of Moros,” I answered.

  “What do we bring?”

  “The Cuban bread and a flan. Harry’s favorite dessert.”

  “Father, do you want to join us?” Marcy dutifully asked.

  “My dear, Sunday is a busy day at the church. Love to join you, but no can do,” Dom replied.

  I added, “Plus, Agnes would be devastated if she didn’t see Father Dom tomorrow.”

  “Father, you should take her out to lunch,” Marcy added, smiling.

  “Oh, she’ll stay for our potluck luncheon tomorrow after the last Mass, trust me,” el padre said, not excitedly.

  “How will you get everyone to attend on Monday?” Marcy asked.

  “They will. We’re going to make some persuasive calls to them between now and then. Trust me, they’ll be here,” I replied, smiling and taking a long drag on my cigar.

  Marcy raised her Zacapa, Dom his Coke, and I my MacAllan. “To the reveal,” I said.

  Marcy and Dom in unison said, “To the reveal,” as we all touched glasses and drank.

  My cell phone vibrated on the table. The caller ID read, “Roberts.” Picking up the phone, I answered, “Lucy, we’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “Joey, it’s Harry,” he said hurriedly.

  “Hey, big guy, we’re—” I started to say, but he interrupted.

  “Joey, Lucy has been in a car accident,” Harry said.

  “Is she, all right?”

  “I don’t know. I’m on my way there now. Are you at the pub?”

  "Yes."

  “Then you’re only a few minutes from her. I’m further away.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s on FDR Drive, just before the Williamsburg Bridge entrance.”

  “I’m on my way. You spoke to her?”

  “She won’t let the paramedics take her to the hospital until you get there. Something about securing the evidence, she said.”

  I started to get up from the table, but my thoughts immediately went to a planned hit, to remove the evidence we’d gathered. “Did she tell you what happened?”

  “A black SUV hit her from the side. Her car is inoperable, but she won’t leave the scene until you get there, man. They wouldn’t let her speak much more.”

  “Harry, I’m on my way. I should be there in a few minutes,” I replied, trying to think how best to get there and secure the evidence.

  I needed to get to her, but her concern was understandable. If someone hit her to abscond with the evidence we retrieved from Edmonton, they’d be waiting for the ambulance to drive away. At the same time, if I secured the item, the chain of official custody would be broken, which would make it inadmissible.

  Shit, I thought.

  Then it hit me. I walked outside and located Farnsworth and Charles, still sitting in their car. Waving to them to come over was fruitless. They ignored me, thinking I was making fun of them.

  I ran to their car, opened the back door, and said, “Detective Lucy Roberts has been in an accident a few blocks from here. Get on FDR, hit the lights and siren, and let’s go to her.”

  At first, they didn’t react. Farnsworth was trying to figure out what I just said as he sat there behind the wheel.

  Detective Charles shouted, “Farns, let’s go, man. Get on FDR.”

  We headed to FDR Drive. With sirens blaring, we cleared out the cars in front of us.

  “What’s going on, Joey?” Charles asked me.

  “Listen to me. Lucy and I retrieved a piece of evidence earlier today. She was going to take it to the evidence locker. It’s sitting in the trunk of her car. When we get there, we need to follow procedure and make sure we don’t screw this up. I need that evidence.”

  Farnsworth asked, “What is this about?”

  “It’s about a case we worked on together that went unsolved. She got a tip yesterday about a possible witness,” I replied, not wanting to be too specific.

  “Is that where you guys were headed this morning?”

  “Exactly.” At that moment, I realized that if this was an intentional hit on Lucy to remove the evidence, our witness Edmonton was in danger. Someone knew where we’d been and surely must know about our witness. “Give me the radio,” I said

  Charles glanced back at me. “The radio? What do you want with that?”

  “Just give it to me, please.”

  Farnsworth nodded towards the radio, motioning for Charles to go ahead.

  I clicked the radio and said, “This is Detective Charles.”

  Immediately, Charles turned and began to grab the cord, trying to pull the radio back. “Joey, what the fuck, man?”

  “Relax a second,” I said. Pushing down on the talk button again, I said, “Contact the New Jersey police. Have them send a squad car to Downing Homeless Shelter on Claremont Avenue, just west of Cavern Point Drive. You got that?”

  The dispatcher on the other end replied, “Got it. Then what, detective?”

  “Have them ask for the director of the shelter. His name is Jimmy; I don’t have a last name. Have Jimmy take the officers to where Edmonton Daniels is. Mr. Daniels is a key witness in an investigation. He’s friendly. Take him into protective custody, because his life may be in danger. Got it?”

  “Got it, detective. Making the call now,” the voice came back

  I handed the radio back to Charles. “Thank you, guys, we’re getting close. Lucy should be right—” I saw the lights of the ambulance and police car “—there.”

  Arriving at the scene, both detectives Farnsworth and Charles identified themselves. Lucy’s car was pretty banged up. She’d been hit on the left front side, and the front fender had caved in over her left tire.

  I hurried to the back of the ambulance. “Is she, all right?” I asked one of the paramedics.

  “She lost consciousness a couple times, but she wouldn’t budge until you got here, assuming you’re Mancuso,” the fellow responded.

  “I’m Mancuso. Let me talk to her.”

  They opened the door; Luc
y was lying on a gurney. Her head was covered with a bandage, with blood by her ears. “Lucy, I’m here. We’ll take care of everything, but you need to go now to the hospital.”

  She grabbed my hand and squeezed it, then nodded in approval without saying a word. Just then, Harry arrived. “This is her husband, Mr. Roberts,” I said.

  “Jump in, sir. We’ll be leaving now,” said one of the paramedics.

  I gave Harry a hug, and they took off. Farnsworth and Charles were waiting for me by Lucy’s car, holding off the tow truck attendant who was in a hurry to tow the car away. I reached in the car and removed the key to open the trunk, all the time hoping that our evidence hadn’t been removed.

  I asked the tow truck driver, “Where’s the other car?”

  He looked at me a bit confused. “What other car?”

  “The car that caused the accident, a black SUV,” I answered.

  One of the policemen on the scene replied for him. “It was a hit-and-run, Detective,” he replied, thinking I was with the NYPD.

  “Did anybody see what kind of SUV it was?” I asked him.

  “All I heard was that it was an SUV and black, no make or model,” he replied.

  My thought was that it might’ve been the same black Cadillac Escalade that ran Kathy down. “Let’s open the trunk, Charles,” I said, giving him the key. I wanted an NYPD detective to take custody of our item.

  Charles walked to the back of Lucy’s car and popped the trunk open. We all looked at each other. “Is that it?” Charles said, pointing to the evidence.

  I let out a big sigh of relief. “That’s it.”

  Wearing latex gloves, both Charles and Farnsworth removed the evidence and placed it in the trunk of their car.

  We got back in the car. “Can I go with you guys and see that this is logged properly?”

  “Joey, you’ve got to tell us what the hell is going on here,” Charles said.

  Farnsworth chimed in. “Does this have anything to do with the homeless guy that was killed last year?”

  I was in a quandary; someone knew what was going on. These guys had been tagging me for a few days, but the question was, why? “Let me ask you guys something,” I said. “Why have you been on my ass for the last few days?”