Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  “Exactly, brother. My original deduction, from the very first moment, was that Drucker and Feinstein learned of some illegality involving these three companies and Gavi was kidnapped to scare them off turning over any incriminating documents they have.”

  “That fits with my observation that Feinstein was worried about his son and grandsons. But, since his son works for the Secret Service, they assumed no one would attempt an abduction and get the Feds involved.”

  “Then,” I said, “back to your question. Is Senturk the main character in this plot? I have my own ideas, what do you guys think?”

  Dom looked at Patrick, as we all sat there and thought for a minute. I’d forgotten about our inebriated pilot. “You guys think for a minute while I go check on our pilot.”

  I walked into the cockpit. “All good with you, Winston?”

  “Feeling good, feeling good. I’m going to put down at Miami-Opa Locka Executive. I know everyone there. Much easier for you guys to get lost. We have about one hour left on our flight. I’ll let you boys know to get ready for landing.”

  “So, what you got?” I said when I sat back down.

  “We’re still trying to figure out who the detective agency was who followed you in Miami and me in New York,” Dom said.

  “We tend to agree that they don’t work for Drucker,” Patrick added. “There’s no reason to think Drucker would have people following us. Don’t you agree?”

  “Is it possible they worked for Ahmad Senturk?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so, Dom. None of these players in Miami knew we were coming until we went to the airport to question MarAir. Remember, they were on your trail as we were flying into Miami. Plus, they’re out of New York.”

  Patrick looked down and reviewed his small notepad. “What about Octavio Nuñez, the banker who owns Solimark? We haven’t spoken about him.”

  “We haven’t. But, it’s for the same reason. He’s local to Miami. If there’s some laundering going on with the smuggling, I think this banker’s role is limited to that. Agnes was doing more research on him.”

  “Speaking of the banker,” Dom said, “three questions come to mind. First, how much money is left in the duffle bag? Second, how are you planning on moving all that money around? And third, are you returning the money to Drucker?”

  “There’s one million five hundred thousand in the bag. Silver and Edwards, must have spent the rest. We gave Joseph and Emile one thousand dollars. Winston is getting one hundred thousand dollars for this private ride, assuming we make it safely and get out of the airport without any hassle.” I paused, looking out the window. I could see some city lights coming into view. “How we move this money around is an issue. We can’t fly commercial and have TSA search our bag. Either we find another private plane to New York, or we may have to drive back.”

  “That’s about twenty plus hours of driving.”

  “I know, Mr. Pat. Pain in the ass to drive back, but it may be the only safe way to take this cash back to New York.”

  “What about my third question?”

  “Getting to that, brother. I have no plans on keeping this money. I think we should collect a substantial fee for recovering it, though. At least, from whatever is left. Say ten percent? That’s assuming Drucker is not involved in any crimes. If so, I’ll have to play it by ear.”

  Dom said, “I wish we were back at our office. We need our whiteboard with the photos of all these players laid out.”

  “Joey, you said you had your own idea. Care to share?”

  I sat back. “Visualize our whiteboard. Senturk is at the top, but there’s a blank space above him. A blank photo with a question mark. Below Senturk is Silver and Edwards, both likely deceased. Next to these two is the banker. To the side of Senturk are Drucker and Feinstein, but I haven’t connected the lines to anyone yet.”

  A voice came over speakers. “This is your captain. Please get ready for landing, fasten your seatbelts, restore all tray tables to their original position, and say a little prayer while you’re at it.” Laughter crackled through the cabin. “We know you have a choice of airlines, and we appreciate you flying Winston Air. Once we taxi, there will be a black limo assisting you with your personal belongings. There’s an additional fee of one thousand dollars, cash, payable directly to your driver.”

  Patrick and I smiled. I saw a look of worry come over Dom. “Brother, did you say your prayer?”

  “Not funny, Joey.”

  There were a couple of bumps as the tires hit the runway, but we landed safely. The plane stopped a couple of hundred yards from the terminal. Winston stepped out of the cockpit, opened the plane’s door, and put his hand out. “There’s your ride, boys.”

  I walked by Winston, handing him his one hundred thousand dollars. “Thank you, Winston. We appreciate it.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” he said, kissing the bundle of cash. “This guy in the limo will drive you out of here without any problems. Be safe, chap.”

  We got in the limo. The driver never looked at us. “Where to?” he asked.

  New York City. But I replied, “Take us to a hotel near the airport.”

  The driver closed the partition between him and the back seat and drove out of the airport without any issues.

  Dom asked, “What now?”

  “Now, we find a way to get back to New York. Now we find the mystery figure.”

  “Do you have a hunch?” Patrick asked.

  “I do. He’s the collector of Sumerian antiquities.”

  31

  “How about a Marriot Hotel?” the driver said from the front of the car.

  Lowering the window between our rear section and the front seat, I replied, “That would be fine, thank you.”

  We checked into the hotel at midnight. It seemed as if this day had no end. Once again, I got a small suite with two beds for Father Dom and me and a connecting room for Patrick. None of us with fresh clothes and we were still wearing the same we wore in Saint Thomas. I needed to get back to New York and Marcy.

  Our connecting door was open. “Guys, I need to take a shower. Why don’t you order room service, and we’ll continue our brainstorm session. Get me a cheeseburger, fries, and a Diet Coke.”

  “How are we getting back to New York?” Dom asked.

  “I sure as hell don’t want to drive back. So, the only way is to leave the money behind. Maybe we’ll leave it in a locker at the airport.”

  “That works. I don’t want to drive back either.”

  “I just called Detective A. Rod and Agent Olmec. They’re both coming over in a few minutes.”

  “It’s past midnight. They’re coming over now?” Patrick asked.

  “They weren’t too excited, but duty calls. Plus, I told them we’re out of here in the morning.”

  “Aren’t you concerned about a leak?” Patrick added.

  “Yes, but I trust both these guys. I want to bring them up to date on what we think is going on.”

  “That’s a new side of you,” Dom said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m glad to see you’re cooperating with the local authorities.”

  “I did promise Captain Johnson I would. Plus, these guys have allowed us to be part of this.”

  I was starved, and from the look of how much food we ordered, so were Dom and Patrick. As Patrick rolled out the room service table to the hallway, both A. Rod and Olmec arrived together.

  “A. Rod, do you have an update on what happened in Saint Thomas?”

  “I do,” A. Rod began. “Unidentified gunmen showed out of nowhere on a boat and gunned down our two suspects. Unfortunately, they also killed the three local cops on the patrol boat just before they reached the dock. Is that what you guys saw?”

  “We saw the shooting, but we didn’t know the outcome. But, the firepower pretty much confirmed what you said.”

  “Witnesses saw three men in a fast-boat overtake the patrol boat. Then, they headed out of the harbor. It turns out the fast-boat was stolen. It was aband
oned at sea, where we think the three men boarded a seaplane.”

  Dom nudged my arm. “Joey, why don’t you share our concern with the detective.”

  Both A. Rod and Olmec looked at Father Dom, and then back at me. “Did you share my phone call with your team when I called from the harbor?”

  “Of course, why? What are you thinking?”

  I wanted to water down my concern, so I didn’t insult A. Rod’s team. “This is just a wild-ass question, but is it possible one of your guys tipped off the gunmen?”

  “No freaking way, Mancuso. I trust these guys with my life.”

  I put my hands out in an apologetic way. “Okay, we just had to ask. You understand. We gave you our location, and then a few minutes later these guys showed up.”

  Olmec added, “Yeah guys, but the gunmen must have been in Saint Thomas anyway. So, it’s likely they knew the location of the sailboat.”

  “And we don’t disagree with that,” I said. “It was just a little freaky. That’s all.”

  “Forget the leak,” A. Rod said. You’re convinced that Silver killed Alexa Gould and Melnick?”

  “He never admitted to killing either of them, but his left ear did have a cut and no coral earring. Besides, Edwards told us Silver did, and we had the murder weapon. It may still be on the patrol boat.”

  “Then it’s at the bottom of the harbor. The patrol boat caught fire and sank.”

  “Then Edwards’s gun, the one he used to shoot out our tires, is there too. Edwards also said that Silver pushed Carlos Alvarez out of the airplane in the middle of the ocean.”

  “How was that kid involved?” A. Rod asked.

  “They paid him to bring Gavi Drucker to them at the airport. My guess is that he probably drugged her at the restaurant before that.”

  “What else did you uncover?” Olmec asked.

  I went on to explain our suspicions, placing Ahmad Senturk almost all the way at the top of the pyramid, suggesting that a totally new player controlled the board.”

  “We don’t have any proof of Senturk’s involvement. I mean, the only three people we could tie him to the killings are Melnick, Silver and Edwards, and they’re dead.” Turning to Agent Olmec, A. Rod continued, “The FBI, from what you’ve said, has been surveilling Senturk and Meso Trading. You guys have nothing, right?”

  Olmec opened his palms. “We have nothing connecting him to the murders.”

  “But, do you have anything connecting him to something at this point?” I asked.

  Almost apologetically, Olmec replied, “Guys, we have been on this for a while. Our investigation is complex and wide. Meso Trading is not the only possible suspect we have tied in to black-market smuggling of Sumerian antiquities. But, I supposed you’re right, we have nothing that can help narrow this investigation.”

  “Meso Trading doesn’t own MarAir, does it?” A. Rod asked.

  I replied, “Not directly. However, our research…” I hesitated, looked at Olmec, and decided to continue, “our research shows a series of dummy corporations, all leading to one company, indirectly controlling not only these two entities, but also Solimark Bank.”

  A. Rod exchanged glances with Olmec, and added, “These

  guys have done their homework.”

  “It seems that way.”

  “Agent Olmec, if I go in to question Senturk without admitting I know the connection, that could tip off these guys, right?”

  A. Rod asked. “It definitely would. I don’t want you going in there with that pretense. You need to find another reason.”

  “Another reason, which we don’t have,” I added. “Shit, we have nothing that leads to Senturk.”

  “Joey, you said there was a ransom paid. Two million dollars, if I remember correctly. Maybe we can tie Senturk to that transfer.”

  I noticed in my peripheral vision that Dom moved a bit uncomfortably in his seat. I hadn’t mentioned the duffle bag to either of them, so I was committed to continuing on that path, even though I was a bit uncomfortable myself. “The Druckers never admitted to paying a ransom. During our research, we found a transfer of funds from Drucker to a bank in Cayman.” I stopped there.

  Olmec squinted his eyes. “This research of yours—”

  I put my hand out, motioning him to stop. “Yes, our research is—”

  Olmec finishing my sentence, said, “Not admissible in court.”

  “Exactly,” I replied. “However, I’m sure the FBI has a warrant in place and has been monitoring Senturk, Meso Trading, and more.”

  Olmec smiled. “I can’t get into any details. Please understand that I have DHS and DOJ all over us on this. But, we have not seen any suspicious money coming to Senturk or Meso Trading lately.”

  “How about Solimark Bank?”

  Olmec shook his head. “Nothing that can tie into this case.”

  A. Rod said, “Well guys, at this point I can’t do anything. I have no witnesses to implicate Ahmad Senturk. The alleged killer of Alexa Gould is dead himself. I have no murder weapon. This other kid, Carlos Alvarez, hasn’t even been reported missing, and from what you said, he’ll more than likely never be found. Then, there’s Melnick, whom we suspect was shot by Silver. I can close the case, but officially, it will be unsolved.”

  “Was there any forced entry into Melnick’s home?” Patrick asked.

  “None,” A. Rod replied.

  “I’ll give you some information on Alvarez’s parents,” I said. “Hopefully as we proceed, we’ll come up with a way for you to solve and close the murder case. Also, remember you were testing the blood found on Alexa Gould’s hand for a DNA match. If you’re lucky, you might close the case that way. I’m sure it matches Silver.”

  “What are you guys going to do?” A. Rod asked.

  “We are going back to New York tomorrow morning. That’s where the key to this whole thing is.”

  “Any suspects?” he asked.

  I pointed to Agent Olmec. “Not unless the FBI can point me in the direction of a collector for these Sumerian antiquities.”

  Olmec shook his head. “We have nothing I can share with you.”

  “That’s Fed double speak.”

  Olmec chuckled. “We do not have anyone we can point a finger to as a collector. Is that better, Mancuso?”

  “Thank you,” I replied, smiling.

  “Is New York the only place your suspect could be?” A. Rod asked.

  “Good question,” I began. “ISIS is excavating these items in Syria and Iraq. Then, they’re smuggled through Lebanon and Turkey. Finally, they’re sold in Germany, London, and New York.”

  “I see,” A. Rod said.

  Olmec added, “By the way, Ahmad Senturk is Turkish.”

  A. Rod stood up and said, “Keep me posted. Not much I can do for now. And as they say – on Shark Tank, for that reason, I’m out.”

  A. Rod left with information on the Alvarez’s family.

  Olmec remained standing and said to Dom, Patrick, and me, “Let’s stay in touch. If you come up with information that can help our case, you need to let me know. Remember we have three federal agencies involved in this bigger case. Don’t screw this up for us, or…” smiling, “they may send you to Guantanamo Bay. My best to Marcy.”

  Back in our room, the three of us made some small talk. We needed to take a momentary break from the case. I wanted to call Marcy and hear her voice. When she answered, I said, “Good news, we’ll be in New York later this morning.”

  I could tell she was half asleep by how breathy her voice was. “That’s great. I also have good news.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ve been fully reinstated with the Bureau. Passed my firearms test and the psych test. I’m back, baby!”

  “Wow, that’s great news. I’m so happy for you.” And I was. This was a wonderful turn of events for her. She deserved to get her life back after what she’d been through the last few months. I asked, “When do you start back?”

  “Monday. I’m ready,” sh
e said. We went on for a few more minutes catching up, but again, I avoided giving her the details of the shooting.

  Our flight out of Miami to New York was at seven in the morning. The money was going into a locker at the airport, and then our search for the Sumerian collector would begin.

  32

  Sunday

  Marcy was all smiles when she picked up the three of us up at the Newark Airport. I was excited to see her in such good spirits. We dropped off Patrick at his place in Jersey and drove to Brooklyn to drop off Dominic at Saint Helen’s, and then back to our place. I needed to sleep, but more importantly, I needed a change of underwear. Several days in the same pair was too much, if you know what I mean.

  We agreed to rest for a few hours and meet at Vinnie’s for dinner at eight. I wanted to start our brainstorm session tonight, so we could get a head start for Monday morning. Vinnie’s was a family restaurant in Brooklyn, and by family, I mean famiglia. Old Vinnie, a friend of my dad worked side-by-side with him until he passed away.

  The back room at Vinnie’s was ours for the evening. This was a multi-purpose room, occasionally used for a card game, a business meeting, or simply a family meal. Vinnie did not believe in menus. You ate whatever he prepared, and tonight he made a feast for us. Antipasto, minestra maritata, sausages, meatballs, rigatoni, a nice gravy, and vino, of course.

  The crew was all here, both Patrick and Father Dom looked refreshed, Agnes was ready to bring us up to date on her research, and Marcy and I were enjoying being together with everyone. I’d told Marcy what happened in Saint Thomas so that she wouldn’t be surprised. While she still felt somewhat responsible for what happened to Alexa, she realized that it was not her doing that got the young girl killed.

  After a few minutes of general conversation, a glass of wine in every hand, and a little antipasto, we settled down to discuss our case. I directed my first question to Agnes. “Any updates you want to give us?”