Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  Everyone started to slide out of the booth. Olmec added, “Marcy has my cell number. Please keep me posted about your case. And remember, everything I’ve said here today has national security implications. I’ve only shared it with you because of my friendship with Marcy. Do not interfere with our investigation. If you keep me in the loop, I’ll work with you.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Agent Olmec, can you do us a favor?”

  Agent Olmec gave me a frown. “What do you need?”

  “Are we going to have a problem?”

  “What’d you mean?” he asked. We both stared at each other like two cocks ready to fight.

  “What’s with the frown brother? I’m a professional doing my job. Just like I respect you as a professional doing your job, I expect you reciprocate.”

  “I don’t mean you any disrespect.”

  “Good. In that case, let’s keep it professional.”

  “Agreed. Now, what is it that you need?”

  “Can you find out if any bodies have been found in the last five days? Maybe Gavi and Carlos have already been found.”

  “That’s not a problem, I can call MPD and ask. Do you think they’ve been killed?”

  “I sure as hell hope not. But, after twenty-four hours, the clues get extremely cold on a missing person.”

  “Twenty-four to forty-eight hours, yes. After that, you’re right.” Marcy said.

  Olmec looked at Marcy, then back at me, “I’ll find out. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. One more thing, if you can. Can you get the make, model, and license plate for Carlos Alvarez’s car? And while you’re at it, see if the car has turned up anywhere. I’ll give you his last-known address.”

  Olmec took some notes on a small notepad. “Easy enough. Is that it?”

  About that friendship with Marcy, care to elaborate? Instead, I said, “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be talking soon.”

  Olmec turned to Marcy, embraced her, and said, “We’re even now. Let’s stay in touch, you and me.”

  Olmec walked out before us. Marcy said, “Nice guy, right?”

  “Not as stiff as other FBI agents we’ve met,” Patrick said.

  I turned to Marcy. “Why are you guys even now? What did you do for him?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mancuso,” she replied with a sly smile. “Let’s concentrate on our case. Do you have a plan?”

  “Yes, I have a plan. But, I’m filing my question for a later date.” Marcy gave me a strong pat on the ass.

  12

  The blue caddy followed us back to the Holiday Inn.

  “Marcy, I want to call Agnes and then brainstorm this some more. But, I need you to do me a favor.”

  “What?”

  “Go around the back and see if you can get a license plate on that blue caddy. They’re parked in the lot. I want to know who the hell they are.”

  Patrick chimed in, “I can do that.”

  “Yes, I know you can, Mr. Pat, but they can spot you a mile away. Marcy can be more inconspicuous.”

  “I got this, Mr. Pat. I’ll be back in a few,” she said as she exited our room.

  I called Agnes. After exchanging a few pleasantries, I got down to business. “Agnes, I’m going to text you a license plate number. Find out who owns the car. If it’s a rental, can you find out who rented the car?”

  “You know I have my ways.”

  “Fine. Anything on social media from Gavi or Carlos?”

  “No. I’ve been checking on a regular basis. Neither one of them have posted anything since Friday evening when they went missing. Nothing on Instagram, Snapchat, or any other.”

  “How about Facebook?”

  “Nothing on Facebook either. These young people aren’t using Facebook these days. Not since their parents took over. Tell me about the license number you’re going to text me.”

  “It’s a car that’s been following us.”

  “Father Dom told me he was also being followed.”

  “Did he get a license number?”

  “No. He’s here now if you want to talk to him.”

  “In a minute. I want you to check the black web and see if you can uncover any illegal antiquities auctions.”

  “You mean the dark web.”

  “Black, dark, whatever. There has to be some organized way for collectors to be alerted of illegal pieces that are about to hit the market.”

  “What am I missing here? We’re going from an abduction to illegal antiquities?”

  I explained to Agnes what was going on and how these client’s activities could be connected to Drucker and Feinstein. It was all supposition, but there were too many coincidences to ignore. “I also want you to look into young girls abducted into sex slavery. See if there’s a Miami connection to that.”

  “Oh, shit. Do you have any clues where that could be a possibility?”

  “No, nothing directly, but it could be an angle. I need to cover all the bases. Let me speak to El Padre.”

  “Hi Joey, let me tell you more about Sid Feinstein,” Dominic began.

  “Before you start, I have to ask you something. Did you drive my Mustang into the city?”

  “Your precious car is under a carport at the church. Don’t worry about the car anymore. It’s a material possession. There’re more important things in life.”

  Dom is right, but I couldn’t think of anything more important at the moment. Shit, that was the only thing of value I owned. “Spoken like a good priest. Tell me about Sid.”

  “Feinstein is a bundle of nerves. I wasn’t able to talk to him at their offices. I think Drucker didn’t want me to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Feinstein avoided me at the office, but I followed him to a Dunkin’ Donuts around the corner. He was hesitant to discuss anything about Gavi.”

  “But, he did talk to you about her.”

  “I may have given him the impression that Drucker told me to meet him at the donut place. That’s when he opened up a bit.”

  “Good work, bro.”

  “Like I said before, the biggest revelation is that he admitted that Drucker called him Saturday morning. So, we know that the Druckers’ story is bogus. They knew, or at least Aaron knew, probably Friday night. Another interesting tidbit is that I think Sid gave his grown son a head’s up. He’s worried about two grandsons. He avoided discussing much more, but he lied about calling his son in Virginia, then admitted he did.”

  “So, you think he’s worried about his grandsons being abducted?”

  “I got the impression he was. However, I had Agnes research Feinstein’s son, Joel, and he works for the Secret Service. So, maybe they’ll stay away from them.”

  “Brother, that fits in with the working idea we have. That these two guys found out something they shouldn’t know, and now they have put themselves and their families in harm’s way.”

  “Joey, there’s more. There were two guys in the Dunkin’ Donuts. I think they were surveilling Sid. They overhead part of our conversation inside the shop and outside, when I pressed him for cooperation. I’m sure those were the two who followed me to Greenwich and back to Brooklyn.”

  I was listening intently. The puzzle was starting taking shape. Before I could add anything else, a smiling Marcy walked back into the room waving a little piece of paper. I motioned to her to hand it to me. “Dom, have Agnes write this license plate number. Ready?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Florida license plate number; MS-M14. Got it? Have her call me as soon as she finds out about this car. By the way, you said you were followed from the city to Greenwich and then back to Brooklyn?”

  “I think so. I only noticed the tail after I left the Drucker estate in Greenwich. I have a gut feeling it was the two guys at the donut shop.”

  “Fine, let me speak to Agnes again. Stay alert, brother.”

  Agnes came back on the line. “I don’t have anything on the license plate yet.”

  “Let me know as soon as y
ou do. In the meantime, find out if there is a professor at the University of Miami who we can talk to about antiquities. I want to know more about the subject. Also, just for the hell of it, find out if Gavi and Carlos flew out of Miami Friday night or Saturday morning on a commercial flight. Can you do that?”

  “I’m going to need an assistant pretty soon,” Agnes replied with a chuckle.

  “Have Father Dom call the university. You do the rest.” I clicked off the phone.

  This whole thing just kept getting more complicated. This onion kept revealing more layers. Someone was following us, and I felt confident Agent Olmec was truthful when he said it was not the FBI. So, who was it? Gavi’s disappearance was still a big concern of mine, but either foul play got both Gavi and Carlos, or there was something else going on.

  Marcy and Mr. Pat sat there listening to my conversation. All three of us were baffled, and frankly, I had nothing to go on.

  Marcy asked, “What are you thinking?”

  “We need to do some basic police work. When everything else fails, go knock on doors.”

  “Where do you want to start?” Patrick asked.

  “I think we need to go to the restaurant where Gavi and Carlos were supposed to have dined Friday night. I think it was called Beaker and Gray. Let’s see if anyone saw them there. If we get lucky, maybe we can pick up a trail.”

  “It’s time for dinner, anyway,” Marcy said, “so it’s perfect timing. You have pictures of both, right?”

  “I got ‘em on my cell.” I searched for them to make sure.

  “Text them to me, so I can also ask around at the restaurant.”

  Marcy commandeered the car keys, and I was relegated to copilot. I programmed our navigation app to the address Jennifer gave us. Patrick, all six feet four of him, sat in the back seat behind Marcy.

  13

  The same car followed us all the way to the restaurant. Beaker and Gray was packed, and without reservations, the best we could do was huddle up to the bar. The crowd was eclectic, just like everyone else we saw in Windward. Windward was an up and coming artsy district, lots of new small galleries, studios, art schools. At the same time, you could find an auto-repair store and a small bodega right next to a new high-rise apartment building. The patrons were from all walks of life and varied ages—millennials, gen X, and baby boomers.

  Marcy found one stool, and we gathered behind her as she ordered three Moscow Mules. Before our drinks were served, I noticed a middle-aged man dressed in an all-black suit and white shirt who seemed to be in charge and waved him over.

  As he approached me with a smile, he said, “Yes, sir, I understand you want a table. We’ll do the best we can. However, if you find two other seats at the bar, you can always eat there.”

  I replied, “Thank you. From the aromas I’m picking up, I can’t wait to order. But, I’ll tell you why we’re here. We’ve been hired to find a young lady who was supposed to be here last Friday. Unfortunately, she hasn’t been seen since then. I was wondering, if you don’t mind, if we asked members of your staff if they remember seeing her here.”

  “Oh…Do you have a picture of her?”

  “Yes.” Marcy handed me her phone with the Gavi’s picture on the screen. “Here is the young lady. Her name is Gavi.”

  Windsor, as his name tag read, looked at the picture for a few seconds. “I personally don’t remember her. But, you’re in luck. We’re in the middle of a shift change, so we have lots of staff coming and going right now. Tell you what I can do, enjoy your drinks,” he said, pointing to our Moscow Mules, “and I’ll walk around with your phone and ask everyone. I think it would be most efficient if I do that.”

  “That would be great Windsor,” I said. “We’d really appreciate that.”

  “Give me a few minutes,” Windsor said. “If I find someone who remembers, I’ll have them come over to you. Do you still want to have dinner?”

  “Yes, of course. We can’t wait.”

  “Excellent,” he said, glancing at Marcy, Patrick, and myself with a wide smile.

  “Nice guy,” I said, turning back to Marcy and Mr. Pat.

  Marcy put down her copper mug. “From the plates being served, I can’t wait to try some of them. They’re all small plates and everyone shares. That’s so cool.”

  A few minutes went by, and we were able to finagle two more stools next to Marcy. So, we decided to stay seated at the bar.

  A young lady approached us dressed in black pants and a black shirt. Her right arm was adorned with a large tat of a musical note. She was holding Marcy’s phone and handed it to me. “Hi, I’m Amanda,” she said to me. “I served the girl in the picture last Friday.”

  Finally, maybe a lead. “Thank you, Amanda. What do you remember?”

  “So, she sat outside in the patio area,” she said, pointing to a small narrow area in the front of the restaurant.

  “Was she alone?” I inquired.

  “No, she was with a man.”

  Marcy picked up her phone and brought up Carlos’s picture. “Is this him?”

  Amanda leaned over. “Yeah, that’s him. Did something happen to them?”

  “We don’t know,” I said, “but we’re looking for them. Anything else you can remember?”

  “They seemed to be in a hurry to leave. The man gave me a credit card even before they finished eating.”

  “Do you remember hearing what they were talking about?” Marcy asked.

  Amanda closed her eyes. She seemed to be trying hard to remember something. Finally, she said, “I think they were headed to an airport to catch a flight.”

  “Miami Airport?”

  “No, a small airport in Kendall.”

  I wanted to ask a few questions about that, but I needed to go slow. Amanda was remembering some good clues. “What’s Kendall?”

  “Kendall is like a town in Southwest Miami,” Amanda said.

  “Why do you remember that?” I asked.

  “Well, the young girl said she didn’t have her passport with her, and I remember she also said she had no clothes packed for a trip.”

  “Did you happen to hear what her date said in response?”

  “I do remember, because I thought what he said was weird.”

  “What did he say?” Marcy asked.

  “He said, ‘You don’t need a passport. We’re taking a private plane. And don’t worry about clothes. We’ll be on a private beach island. Clothes are optional.”

  “Do you think we can get a copy of the credit card charge?” I asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the manager.”

  “Is that Windsor?”

  “Yes, you want to talk to him?”

  “Please, send him over. And, thank you, Amanda. By the way, may I ask about the tattoo? Is there a story there?”

  Marcy said, “That might be a personal story.”

  Amanda smiled and brought up her right arm. We all looked at it again. “It’s the first stanza of Modest Mouse’s, “The World at Large.” It’s covering a scar from an accident, and yes, it’s a personal story. It changed my life for the better.”

  “Thank you. You don’t have to get into it. My husband here asks too many questions.”

  Amanda walked away in search of Windsor.

  So, our couple was headed to a private beach island. Progress at last. Marcy went ahead and ordered a variety of small plates, all of them with distinct spices, aromas and taste.

  Windsor approached and gave us a copy of the charge. “From the looks of it, it seems to be a debit card. Not much information there, but I hope it helps,” he said.

  “Thanks very much. We appreciate your cooperation,” I added.

  “What did you order, Marcy?”

  Looking back at me and smiling, she replied, “An order of Reuben fried rice. It has pastrami, sauerkraut and caraway all mixed in with the fried rice. Then, I got us an order of fried chicken.”

  “Fried chicken?”

  “It’s made with cur
ry mustard, buttermilk and maple syrup. And, I ordered two orders of bay scallops, made with chorizo, Israeli couscous, and tomatoes.”

  “It all sounds incredible,” said Patrick.

  “The waitress said to start with that, and we can order more if we want. It’s family style,” Marcy added.

  When the food arrived, we chowed down. The food was great, but the information we’d gotten was even better. Gavi could be alive.

  It was too late to head to the airport. As we headed back to our motel, Patrick, using his cell phone, found out Miami Executive Airport was in an unincorporated area of the county called Kendall and that it served private corporate-type planes.

  Marcy was back at the wheel, and I enjoyed watching her drive. She had this nervous tick when she drove, where she would occasionally push her right shoulder forward every few minutes as she engaged in conversation. I could not get enough of her.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked, looking straight ahead but engaging her shoulder.

  I kept my eyes on the road. “For one thing, it sounds like Gavi is alive. But, I think she didn’t know she was going on a trip Friday night.”

  “You think she was forced to take the trip?”

  “I don’t know that she was forced. I think Carlos may have convinced her to take the trip.”

  Patrick added from the back seat, “I thought you said she had a test on Wednesday.”

  “That’s right, Mr. Pat, but I think she may have thought she would be back on Sunday. She doesn’t sound like the kind of young woman who would go on a trip without packing, planning, and telling her parents. Not from what we’ve learned of her.”

  From my peripheral vision, I could see Marcy’s right shoulder go forward. “You think Carlos is involved in a possible abduction?”

  I turned partially to face Marcy. “I don’t think he did it alone. There’s a lot of planning involved here. A private plane, a private island, right?”

  My cell phone rang. I pulled the phone out of my pocket. It was Aaron Drucker. Shit. It was ten p.m. and I hadn’t called him. “Shit, it’s Drucker,” I said out loud. “Mancuso here,” I answered, putting the phone on speaker so that both Marcy and Patrick could hear the conversation.