Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  “And you are not going to tell me?”

  “No. You are going to tell me. Let’s walk outside, Marcy should be here any minute. You can observe the photos in the car ride back to Saint Helen’s Church.”

  11

  Marcy’s radio was blasting with Sweet Home Alabama, by the Lynyrd Skynyrd Band.

  “Can I lower the volume?” I asked, reaching for the volume knob on the radio.

  “Why, you don’t like this music?”

  “Yes, I like it. But, I want to talk.”

  Marcy said, “You need to update your repertoire of music in the pub,” she said, turning to look at me.

  “Yeah? With what?” I asked, smiling.

  “Oh, I don’t know. How about Chicago, Alabama, Sting, Doobie Brothers, some modern country?”

  “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

  Marcy had this nervous tic when she drove; first, she sat close to the wheel, which I personally found uncomfortable. But then, she would move her right shoulder forward every few minutes when she was engaged in a conversation. The faster Marcy drove, the more forward motions her shoulder would take. I found it cute, but of course, I found everything she did, cute.

  She looked at me in the passenger seat and asked, “How’s your case going?”

  “I’ve met with the detective at the Suffolk police that was lead in the investigation. Fortunately, I knew him from before, he’s provided me with the photos and a video from the scene of the crime,” I replied. “Dom is viewing those now,” I said, pointing to the back seat where Dominic sat.

  “Did you meet with Mr. Longworth?” Marcy asked, as she engaged her right shoulder in a forward motion.

  “We both did, yes.” I turned to look at Dominic, “Brother, you still viewing the photos?”

  Dominic replied without taking his eyes off the phone, “Going over them a second time, give me a minute.”

  “Did you find something new with the photos?” Asked Marcy.

  “I think I did. I’m sure Longworth did not do it. But, I don’t have enough yet to identify the real killer.”

  Marcy asked, “When is Agnes going to have the research ready?”

  I glanced out the window, the snow was beginning to come down hard. “I gave her lots to do. She was going to research both attorneys, Adams and Pearson. Both husband and wife, and then I gave her the names of the executive directors of the charities Mrs. Longworth was involved with; Angels for Children and their own foundation, along with some close friends.”

  “Do you think she was having an affair?” Marcy asked, keeping her eyes on the road ahead of her.

  “Yes, I know she was,” I replied. “Are you done with the photos, Dom?” I asked, as I faced him in the backseat and patted his knee with the left hand.

  “Yes, I am,” Dominic replied.

  “So, tell me what you found,” I said.

  “I don’t know if I observed everything you did, but I think I have some new ideas, only because you told me to look beyond the obvious,” he replied.

  I turned halfway to the back seat. “What stood out?”

  “The scene is very disturbing with all the blood on the walls, carpet and then, of course, the body. Everything in the room is white and then there’s the crimson blood as a contrast,” Dom said.

  “Come on, that’s obvious. What else?” I asked.

  “Yellow roses on their seating area. That stands out,” Dominic said.

  Marcy countered, “Yeah, but what does that mean? I buy flowers for my place all the time. Many women do that.”

  I added, “True, but this was an arrangement. Mr. Longworth told me he had his assistant send those, the same day, to his wife.”

  Dominic asked, “Why send flowers if you’re planning on killing her?”

  “Unless he’s a sick person,” Marcy said.

  “Which he is not,” I replied. “He wanted to have a quiet evening with his wife, but wasn’t able to leave his office early. He was trying to rekindle their relationship.”

  Dominic countered, “What if he got home, they had an argument, and he just flipped out and shot her?”

  “It’s possible, but it doesn’t fit with the person I met. What else did you see in the photos?” I asked.

  “Joey, you’re putting a lot of pressure on me. I need to review these one more time,” Dom said.

  “Professor Mancuso,” Marcy started, “Why don’t you enlighten us with your observations.”

  I smiled. “Dom, did you see, in the video, the large tub and shower?”

  “Yes, both floors were wet.”

  “Mr. Longworth told me his wife showered in the mornings. But, when I asked if she showered after sex, he said she would. Of course, I also know from the rape kit that there was evidence of sex, but no rape.”

  Marcy asked, engaging her right shoulder once again, “Any semen?”

  “No evidence of that, no.”

  Dominic added, “So her partner wore a condom.”

  “Dom, you’re assuming her partner was a man. What if it was another woman?” I asked, glancing back at him.

  “But you said there was evidence of sex. I assumed from penetration?” Dominic asked.

  “Father,” Marcy began, looking at him through the rear-view mirror, “There are other ways to, —”

  “Okay, I get it, I get it,” said Father Dom, somewhat embarrassed.

  “Are any of the people Agnes is researching a woman?” Marcy asked.

  I replied, “It so happens that both the executive directors of the charities are females. Both charities have their main offices in New York.”

  Dominic asked, “The suspects, in your mind, are these four persons: the attorneys and the charity directors?”

  “At the moment, that’s all I got. I haven’t seen any research on anything yet. There’s always the pool boy, the gardener, et cetera, right?” I laughed.

  “What, no butler?” Marcy quipped.

  “What else did you observe, Joey?” Dominic asked.

  “She died wearing a white terrycloth robe.”

  “I saw that,” said Dom.

  “But, what you did not see was Mr. Longworth’s terrycloth robe. He admitted to having one.”

  Marcy asked, “What happened to it?’

  “I believe the killer was wearing it, after their shower when he, or she, shot Mrs. Longworth.”

  “What happened to the robe?” Dom asked.

  “I think the killer used it to cover their tracks walking down the stairs. They turned it inside out, because it must have had blood spatter on the front. The stairs and living room are marble floors, so, I can imagine the killer sliding through the marble with the robe underneath their feet.”

  Marcy glanced at Dom through her rearview and asked, “He’s good, Father, isn’t he?”

  Dom replied, “Don’t encourage him. What else, Sherlock?”

  “Mr. Longworth said the reason he went downstairs, after finding the body, was because he a heard a sound as if someone knocked down a lamp, or glass breaking,” I said.

  “Assuming we believe him,” Marcy retorted.

  “Yes,” I said, “yet, on the photos and video, there is nothing out of place in the living room.”

  “What’s your theory?” Dom asked.

  “My thought is, the killer removed the item that they knocked over in the living room.”

  “What about prints?” Marcy asked.

  “They dusted for prints in the bedroom, and found partials that are unidentifiable. Both husband and wife, maids, and Mr. Adams’ prints.” I said, as Marcy turned to look at me with an obvious question mark on her face. “Yes, Adams and Mr. Longworth have met in the seating room in their bedroom.”

  Dom queried, “Did they dust for prints in the living room?”

  “I’m sure they did. We need to check on that,” I replied.

  We arrived at Saint Helen’s Church in Brooklyn, as the snow continued to come down hard. Father Dom had another question. “I still don’t understan
d how Mrs. Longworth and her lover, assuming she had one, would feel free to have an encounter at her home, then shower, get dressed and so forth. Wouldn’t they be concerned about Mr. Longworth coming home?”

  I turned to Dom as he was getting ready to exit Marcy’s car, “My dear Doctor Watson, I have a theory about that. I’ll share it with you both, soon.”

  “Okay,” Dom said, “Then your assumption is, that the Mrs. and her partner knew when he was coming home?”

  I added, “Exactly. Except on this evening, the husband left an hour earlier than what he told her, the lover slash killer had no time to leave, before he got there.”

  Father Dom said, “We are assuming there is a lover, although I am inclined to believe that, too. However, we don’t know who, or even if a male, or female, and most importantly, what is their motivation.”

  “That’s why we are on the case, brother,” I said, extending a handshake as he was opening the door to get out. “And, we are running out of time on this one. Go say a little prayer for us.”

  Snow was starting to come in the car as Dom was getting out, he stuck his head back in and said, smiling, “I think a nine-day novena is in order, for this one.”

  “Good night, Father,” Marcy said.

  “Let’s get a pizza and head to your place,” I said.

  “I bought some fresh fish, you want me to make it?”

  “What kind?” I asked, making a face.

  “Tilapia.”

  “You know what they call a Tilapia with four legs?”

  “No, what?”

  I replied, “Roadkill,” I paused, “let’s stick with the pizza.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “No really. Tilapia is a name given to hundreds of species of fresh water fish. It’s not like, grouper. So, whatever the hell they find, and it’s an unknown species, they call Tilapia.”

  She looked at me kind of funny. “Fine. When will Agnes have her research done?”

  “I’m hoping she’ll email me what she has, tonight. We’re running out of time.”

  “You really think you can get this guy off?”

  “Nothing’s been done for a year. The police folded their investigation, with the evidence against him. And the attorneys baffled me, in the manner they conducted their own investigation.”

  “Is that why you think, the lawyers might be involved?”

  “I just want to look beyond the obvious. I tend to believe Longworth’s claim of innocence. It seems he was trying to restart the relationship. He says things just went stale after twenty years of marriage, and he blames himself for it.”

  “Could that happen to us? If we get married, I mean.”

  “Is this your way of accepting my proposal?”

  “We haven’t discussed marriage in a while. Answer my question.”

  “My proposal was open ended. It didn’t have a termination date.”

  “I know, Joey, and we can talk about it. Please answer the question.”

  “Any marriage can go stale. It seems to me that it’s a work in progress from start to finish, right? Careers interfere, if you let them. Taking the other for granted is a mistake. Both partners have to want to work at it.”

  “What if you fall out of love like these two, the Longworths.”

  “The assumption is that they were in love in the first place. Assuming they were, then something broke down, a vacuum was created that allowed for the entry of the third party into the lives of one or the other. That’s why I say, it’s a work in progress.”

  “How would you handle it?” Marcy asked, turning to look at me.

  “Is this a test of some kind?”

  “No, silly. I like to discuss this with you. Communication is part of the work in progress, right?”

  “Very much so. Look, I’m ready to get married to you. Why? Because I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Do I know if it’s going to last? No one knows the future. But you go into it for the right reasons. You have your aspirations, your dreams, and you hope and pray for the best.”

  “I know I’m guilty of worrying about you in the law enforcement field. When you got shot and almost died, and then, went right back to work refusing to take the disability offered you, well, that bothered me.”

  “I understand why you felt that way. After all, you lost your dad in Viet Nam, then your brother was in the Army, and deployed to Iraq. Fortunately, he came home safely. Those experiences shaped your fears, but you must accept people, if you love them, for who they are. You can’t change them to fit your typical mold.”

  “Fortunately, you’re out of law enforcement. So, I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I don’t mind you doing some investigative work like you do now, with Father O’Brian. But, I wouldn’t want you wearing a gun to work again.”

  I guessed this was not the time to discuss the offer I’d had from my old captain, and the opportunity to open my own investigative services on a full-time basis. I replied, “Marcy, you wear a gun to work, and I accept that. We’ve talked about this before. I mean, what if, in a few years, we move to a small town, and I’m offered an opportunity to be the chief of the police force, like Jesse Stone, Tom Selleck’s character, that becomes a police chief? What then?”

  “I know you love that series. Is that your dream? To become the chief of police in a little town?”

  “I must say, it is appealing to me. How cool would that be?”

  “To be continued. Let’s talk about it, after I come back from D.C.”

  “What time do you leave tomorrow?”

  “Eleven in the morning. I’ll be back on the twenty-ninth, Friday evening.”

  “And this Special Agent Belford is traveling with you?”

  “We’re being briefed on a case we are working on. He’s not such a bad guy, you know.”

  “No, good guys can be assholes too. There’s just something that bothers me about this guy.” We arrived at the restaurant, and I stepped out of the car into the freezing temperature and snow storm. “Back in a second.”

  The pizza, along with a Pinot Noir, was excellent. No more discussion of marriage took place. Our passionate lovemaking began on the living room sofa listening to Foreigner’s Waiting for a Girl Like You, and, I Want to Know What Love Is, which, being the romantic type of guy I am, I purposely placed in the CD player.

  Agnes’s email with the research came in during our fabulous time in bed, but the email went ignored until the next morning.

  12

  Wednesday, December 28th

  Marcy dropped me off at the pub on her way to the Newark airport. From there, she was headed to Reagan National, in D.C. As much as I wanted to discuss my opportunities, last night was not the time in which to do it. I needed to stick to my original plan; finish this case first, then approach both Marcy and Dom, to talk about it. Appealing as both these offers were, having a real investigative business and working as a consultant to the NYPD’s homicide division at my old precinct, there was a feeling in the pit of my stomach that kept telling me — no.

  I decided to put that aside, for now. Perhaps later, I would put into practice the ‘O Meter,’ something my brother had taught me as a young sixteen-year-old. He would always say, “When you are faced with two decisions use the O Meter. Go into a quiet environment, close your eyes, and project your thoughts, as if you are in one of the situations already. Then measure your gut feelings. What do you feel? Then, open your eyes for a minute, and repeat the exercise measuring your gut feelings in the second environment.” He would add “Joey, your heart and your gut are connected, they speak to you, let them guide you. You’ll know what to do.” I had done that before, and it had served me well. I would do it again, but after the case was finished.

  Dom had texted me that he was coming into the pub at about eleven in the morning. I went ahead and printed the emails that Agnes sent the night before and organized them in a file. Dom was adamant about organization, and I was going to wait for him to begin our discovery.


  Margery, the Longworth’s daughter, was spending Christmas with her maternal grandmother in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and while she was returning to New York, to be with her father for the defense presentation, both Dom and I wanted to speak to her as soon as possible. So, I decided to call her on her cell phone.

  “Margery, this Joey Mancuso, do you have a few minutes to chat?”

  “Hi, Mr. Mancuso, yes, of course. Merry Christmas to you.”

  “And to you. Sorry to bother you, but we are working on your Dad’s case, and I have a few questions.”

  “Thank you for taking the case, I’ve wanted for you and your brother to get involved.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. The case is wrapping up soon, and we haven’t had much time to work on it.”

  “Mr. Mancuso, at least you’re involved now. I’ve been trying for a while, persuading, is more like it, for the attorneys to hire you.”

  “Please call me Joey. That brings me to my first question.”

  “Please, go ahead.”

  “What was the reason the attorneys resisted in hiring us?”

  “Mr. Adams was ambivalent to the idea. Mr. Pearson said that unfortunately, there was not much anyone could do, and that they already had an investigator on the case. Short of finding the real murderer, my Dad should take a plea bargain.”

  “I see.”

  “Mr. Mancuso, Joey, your reputation as an investigator is well known. If anyone can help my dad, it is you and your brother.”

  “That’s very nice. But, I think the media may have exaggerated our capabilities because of our last case.”

  “Regardless, both Dad and I have faith in you.”

  “We’ll try. Let me ask you, you don’t live at home now, do you?”

  “For the last year, I’ve been at school, Alabama University.”

  “You guys are playing for the national championship again.”

  “We are excited, but Clemson has a good team.”

  “Can you share your thoughts on the relationship between your parents?”

  “From my perspective, they got along well. At least when we were together. I never saw them fighting or anything. It seemed like a healthy relationship. Of course, some parents have a way of camouflaging their differences in front of their children, which is a good thing.”