Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  “Just be safe, please. I’ll see you later at home. Love you,” she said, clicking off.

  Patrick was waiting with Coronas and two Gurkha’s Heritage cigars—short and tasty stogies.

  “Everything all right?” he asked, knowing full well my hot-blooded Cuban wife was not a happy camper.

  “Peachy. Now, let’s brainstorm our next move.”

  “I can’t wait. I didn’t think you were going to be stymied by the Feds.”

  “I have to tell you, the work the task force is doing is very serious and important, and while it may be reaching a boiling point, we can’t wait and let these fuckers get away with all these murders.”

  “So,” Patrick began, rubbing his hands together.

  “Yeah, I know. What’s the plan?”

  He smiled, took a sip of the Corona, and said, “I know I always ask the same question. But, your mind is always two or three steps ahead. I’m always eager to hear your thoughts.”

  “Now you’re blowing smoke up my ass,” I said, letting out a puff of gray smoke.

  Patrick laughed. “I guess that’s one of the hazards of being the boss. So, what’s the next move?”

  “You remember the reveal we did in the pub back in the case of the murdered hedge fund executive?”

  “You brought all the suspects and authorities together to the pub. Then you went on indicting them one by one for their crimes.”

  “I developed such an iron-clad case against each of the guilty ones, for which they’re serving time.”

  “This time around, the group is smaller. Meadows and Opal. Then the hedge fund manager Feathersmith.”

  “It’s even smaller. Unless I’m making a mistake, Feathersmith is not our man, so for that reason, he’s out for now. That leaves the two bankers. But, here’s my thought on that. Freddy Opal is definitely an art and antiquities collector. However, if he was involved in any part of what happened so far and was involved in the black-marker aspect of this, he would have taken a few minutes to listen to Achilles and me when we were there, unless…” I stopped to think momentarily, “unless he’s so arrogant, he just doesn’t give a shit.”

  “So, he’s out too?”

  “Slow down. Our visit to their office must have been somewhat suspicious from the get-go. If he was involved, I think he would have listened to our story, if only to sniff out any possible connection. The fact he was not interested tells me he’s not involved, or maybe, like I said before, he’s too arrogant to think we know anything,” I said, taking the last sip from my beer.

  “So, he’s in?”

  “He’s going to be invited to join us, but not for the reason you’re thinking. However, there’s more. Our cell phones were compromised, and they, meaning the guilty parties, knew our every move since before we went to Saint Thomas. During our conversation with Meadows, he received a text message. His response was to smile wryly at it. Dollars to cannolis, Meadows received notification that Joey Mancuso was in his office.”

  “Therefore, if Opal got the same text, you think he would have shown up at your meeting?”

  “I don’t know about Opal. I still have my suspicion about him.”

  “I would have been curious to see this Mancuso character in person.”

  “That’s the obvious reaction.”

  “Whatever happened to the flash drives that Feinstein made? Did Attorney Goldstein get them? Was there an audit done?” Patrick asked.

  “Unfortunately, the audit has taken longer than expected. They did get the flash drives, but the accountant, being the typical anal analyst most are, has been very thorough and still working on it.”

  “That could have shed some light on this.”

  “I’m playing it by ear, Mr. Pat. Opal or Meadows wanted to hide something in those documents, so I’m going to roll with it.”

  “How are you going to get them here? If Meadows is the guy, he’s already tried to kill us twice. He must know the FBI has a suspect in custody that may connect him to our attempted murder.”

  “About that. I asked the FBI for a favor. They’ll release a news report that all three suspects in the shooting died. Two at the scene and the other on his way to the hospital without having been questioned. Further, they will say that they had no leads on the shooting.”

  “Meadows thinks he’s in the clear.”

  “He’s got to have some concern, but thinks they have no way to identify him. He’s not skipping town just yet.” Patrick was only going with the obvious, and yes, the obvious suspect was Meadows.

  “You still haven’t answered how you’re going to get them to the pub.”

  “I’m no psychologist, but I’ve read that we all have a good inner person and an evil inner person within us. We choose which one we allow out to play unless we’re mentally ill. So, Joey’s evil person is going to call these two guys for a tēte-a-tēte.”

  Patrick smiled and took a long drag from his Gurkha. “I can’t wait.”

  49

  Wednesday

  Ten in the morning was the time I asked both Meadows and Opal to visit with us at the pub.

  Opal resisted the invitation and tried to blow me off. However, asking for and receiving his agreement to not share with Meadows, I made sure he understood that his bank, his career, and his good standing in the community were about to end if he did not attend.

  Meadows was easier to persuade. Evil Joey was blackmailing him, explaining point by point all of what I knew. I told him it was easier to pay me off than kill me, especially, since I put together an insurance policy in the form of a briefing that outlined his involvement in the murders and the black-market smuggling of the antiquities and assisting ISIS in the process. If Joey Mancuso or anyone around him died, the document would find its way to the New York District Attorney’s office.

  The other invitees to this reveal were asked to show up at nine in the morning too. They included my wife, my former partner Lucy Roberts, and Captain Alex Johnson also brought with him a handful of uniformed officers.

  Before the clock struck nine, all invitees of authority gathered in our office and were not visible to those on the pub side. I knew my one-way mirror would come in handy eventually. We brought in a spread of Danishes and Dunkin’ Donuts to keep our police force calm. Plus, we made plenty of coffee for them.

  Joining them was our team: Father Dom was happy to see this scheme of mine reaching a climax; Agnes, who was all smiles and radiant after her dinner and … whatever, last night with Achilles; the professor himself, who was already checked out of the hotel and ready to go back to Miami, by plane, in the afternoon; my partner in crime, Patrick Sullivan; and my crack investigators, Larry and Harry. I only had one request for them: don’t make a freaking sound.

  A few minutes before ten, Ruth Goldstein texted me that the audit confirmed our suspicions. I was ready to test my theory anyway on these two guys, and I was prepared with a fake flash drive.

  Instead of the usual classics from the Sinatra era, I played the original soundtrack from the Sherlock Holmes soundtrack by Hans Zimmer. At nine fifty-seven, I heard the rush of traffic outside the pub, as the front door opened. Meadows walked into the pub.

  I was seated in the Derek Jeter booth that was adjacent to the one-way mirror. “Have a seat, Mr. Meadows,” I said, pointing to the seat opposite me. “Coffee?” I asked.

  “No,” he replied, looking around the pub. “Let’s get this fucking thing over with.” Glancing at the glass right over us, he asked, “What’s on the other side of this?”

  “Just a small office where we do our bookkeeping and stuff.”

  He hesitated. “I brought you the two million cash you requested. Now, if you think this is just a down payment, you’re mistaken. I don’t give a shit what kind of file you have on me. I’ll be long gone when they find your mother in Florida, your wife, your brother, and the rest of your fucking gang dead. You understand?”

  “Yeah, that seems clear enough. Put the envelope on the table. Look, I’m smal
l time. All I want is a little cash, and we’re done with this. Unfortunately, you’ve been cleaning house, but failed to finish the job properly. And as you can see, mistakes can be costly.”

  “Look, Mancuso, I knew you were fishing when you were in my office with that little Greek professor. You have no witnesses to corroborate your bullshit story.”

  “I know. You killed nine, and I killed three for you. Now, that’s convenient. But, the information I do have will kill your bank and your reputation. Plus, you’ll be tied up for years in investigations.”

  Again, there was the rushing sound of traffic as the pub’s door opened. Freddy Opal entered.

  We both looked at the front door. It was ten fifteen.

  “What the fuck is he doing here?” Meadows asked.

  “Your boss? He’s part of this.”

  “Are you blackmailing him too?”

  “Should I?”

  “What the fuck, Mancuso? He knows nothing.”

  “We’ll see,” I said. “Please join us here,” I said to Mr. Opal.

  Opal looked around as he slowly made his way to our booth.

  He slid into the booth and sat next to Meadows. “Ray, what’s going on?”

  “You don’t need to be here, Freddy. I’ve got this under control.”

  I opened the envelope and flashed the cash. “Yeah, he’s got it under control.”

  Opal looked at the envelope, and then at me, and then back at Meadows. “What’s that for?”

  Now, having agreed with the FBI’s task force to not interfere with their anti-terror investigation, I kept it simple. “Mr. Opal, it seems your second in command has been a very bad boy.”

  Glancing at me with disdain, Opal asked, “What have you done, Ray?”

  “Keeping you out of the fray. That’s what,” Meadows replied.

  “I don’t understand,” said Opal.

  “Look, Freddy, Mancuso and I have reached an understanding. There’s nothing else to discuss. I’m sorry he asked you here.”

  I reached to my left and pulled up a file. Pulling photos from within it, I began lining them on the table. “This is Alexa Gould. She’s dead. This one, you may recognize. That’s Ahmad Senturk. He’s also dead,” I said, looking at Opal, who displayed no reaction.

  “Who are these people?” Opal asked, seemingly stunned.

  “Wait,” I said. “There’re more.” I pulled out photos from the murders in the Saint Thomas. Those are three police officers from Saint Thomas and two pilots from MarAir.”

  “My God, what is this all about?” Opal asked, revolted by the photos.

  Meadows face was flushed. “What is this all about?” He paused. “You sit there in your plush office leaving me to do your dirty work, and you ask what this is about? Who the fuck do you think takes care of things, things you want to have plausible deniability for?”

  Opal looked at me. “Mancuso, you care to explain?”

  I hadn’t anticipated this. I was almost giddy. I pulled a flash drive from my pocket. Meadows slid back in the booth and looked at the ceiling. “It all started with accounting inconsistencies. After a forensic audit, auditors were able to find large transfers from your bank to another bank in Miami. All transfers approved and signed by Mr. Meadows. It’s all here,” I said, displaying the flash drive.

  “So, what?” Opal asked indignantly. “We make hundreds of transfers every day for millions of dollars.”

  “I’m sure you do, but these particular transfers I’m referring to found their way to—”I was getting into something I had agreed not to do. I started again. “Found their way into some illicit dealings. The cover-up led to a kidnapping and these murders. Nine murders. Plus, there were two more people killed this morning.”

  Meadows lowered his gaze from the ceiling and looked into my eyes, confused.

  “Yes,” I said, looking back into Meadows’s black eyes, “two died in the attempted murder of my associates and myself. The third is alive and well. Let me show you a photo.” I flipped through the photos on my cell phone and displayed a photo of Meadows, the live shooter in custody, and a second person. “You see that person talking to Ray? He’s in custody and singing like a canary as we speak.”

  “So, what do you want?” Opal asked.

  Meadows came back from his catatonic state. “He’s bullshitting about the guy in the photo, he’s dead. I’ve already taken care of this. That’s what the money in the envelope is for.”

  “This is a blackmail?” Opal asked, stupefied.

  Before I replied, Meadows repeated, “Like I said, I have this under control.”

  As Opal glanced at Meadows with contempt, I played my hunch from prior observations. “It’s time to come clean, Mr. Opal. You’re a perfect example of a leader who likes to lead from behind, but you’re not the innocent bystander you pretend to be.”

  Opal clasped his hands together, leaned forward, and ignoring my statement, glared at Meadows. “You have this under control? You pitiful piece of shit, I should have had you killed first. Your only job was to get the incriminating documents from Drucker and Feinstein. Instead, you blundered that like the fool you are. I, came in and cleaned things up for both of us.”

  Opal then turned to me without batting an eye. “Mr. Mancuso, I’ll triple what is in that envelope. But this ends right here, right now.”

  I knocked on the one-way mirror. “Yes, it does. Right here, right now, assholes.”

  They looked at me dumfounded, then raised their eyes to see Captain Johnson, Detective Lucy Roberts, the uniforms, and the rest of the gang, walk into the pub.

  Handcuffs in hand and beaming, Lucy said, “Both of you get up. You’re under arrest for first-degree murder and a lot more, baby.

  50

  Thursday

  Last night the celebration went on until the early morning. The Moët and Chandon flowed freely on the Cigar Club side. Captain Johnson, his wife, Detective Lucy and her husband partook in the festivities too. As expected, once I made the invitation, Achilles rebooked his flight reservations for today, and while he had already checked out of the hotel, I’m sure Agnes found a place for him to spend the night.

  This case was challenging, and unfortunately, a few innocent people lost their lives because of it. Who knew that a simple missing-person case would lead to such an incredible ending. Father Dominic was right in always asking, “Why can’t we get simple cases to work on? Everything we get involved in is convoluted with multiple turns.” Of course, I thrived on the twists and loops.

  As the festivities raged on, I realized that there was still another case I needed to attend to. A cold case. Only part of me wanted to get involved. My dad’s career outside the home was one of crime, extortion, and many other things. He followed the family business that stretched back to the 1930’s when his dad was part of a Mafia famiglia. I never knew how my grandfather died. It was something we never talked about in the household when I was growing up, but I had my guesses.

  Did Antonino Falcone—Tony the Hammer or il Martello—as the family insiders called him have information that could solve my dad’s murder? After more than twenty years, did I want to open this cold case?

  But, as usual, Marcy was right when she told me that I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t go.

  So, at ten in the morning, I found myself driving my Mustang across the Francis R. Buono Memorial Bridge, the only access to Rikers.

  I remembered Tony to be a large man, maybe six feet plus. He was strong and rotund and had jet-black hair like mine. His squared jaw was also like mine, and he always joked with my father about how much I resembled him.

  Walking into the hospital wing of the institution, I was shocked when I saw a frail, skinny person, no more than one hundred and twenty-five pounds. His eyes were sunken in, his face twisted from the pain. The chemo took care of his hair.

  He squinted when he saw me and flashed a miniscule smile, the best he could muster. Raising his hand just a tiny fraction, he said almost i
n a whisper, “Giuseppe, come va?”

  “Bene, Tony, bene,” I replied, as I grabbed his ice-cold hand, holding my tears back.

  His voice quivered as he said, “I’m about to join your dad, and it’s time you learned the truth.” He paused.

  “Don’t give up, Tony. You can still recover from this.”

  He gently shook his head sideways. “No, it’s time. I’ve made my peace with God. I’m ready for His final judgement. Come closer, I need to tell you this.”

  Epilogue

  Three weeks after our case, the anti-terror task force finally arrested the individuals in the mosque on East Tenth Street. Fourteen people were arrested and charged. Three of the fourteen were suspected of being the shooters in Saint Thomas who gunned down the pilots and the three local police officers. During the press conference following the arrests, FBI Special Agent In- Charge Robert Mackenzie announced, without disclosing the sources and methods, that their work in the past year and a half prevented three terror attacks in the city.

  Freddy Opal and Raymond Meadows were charged with class A-1 felony for multiple first-degree murders. Both authorities in Miami and Saint Thomas wanted their turn at those two. Different from Meadows, Opal was not regretful, nor did he show remorse for his actions. His evil-doings manifested from schizophrenia, which quickly led to dementia, and prior to his trial, he was moved to a mental institution in upstate New York.

  The shooter at the hotel who tried to kill Patrick, the professor, and yours truly, a Mr. Salman Arakat, was charged with attempted murder. He collaborated in the task force’s investigation, and in a pre-trial hearing plead guilty. He was to serve five years and be deported back to Pakistan to await trial for crimes committed prior to entering the United States.

  Agnes and Achilles’s relationship blossomed into a full-blown romantic affair. Both took turns visiting each other in their respective cities. The professor seemed to have lost his fear of flying. There is a good possibility that my top researcher and computer hacker might end up working remotely from Miami full time.