Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  She locked her watery eyes onto mine and nodded.

  Alice and Arnold walked into the home. Arnold was a fit sixty, about my height—six feet tall—with a full head of brown hair. The most discernable feature, though, was two puffy, dark half-moons below his eyes. “Mr. Perego, I’m Arnold. I hear you’re helping the police find the killer,” he said in a slow and deliberated deep tone reminiscent of John Wayne, extending a hand toward me.

  “Please call me Carlo. I’m going to do everything I can to help, sir.”

  “It’s about time someone cared enough to help solve these murders. We’ve had a few over the past few years, and nothing gets solved. Do you have experience in this sort of thing?”

  Not wanting to give out too much information, yet wanting to reassure him I could help, I replied, “Let’s just say that I do from a past life.”

  Arnold nodded. “Good, very good. These senseless killings have to stop. Let me know if I can help. I was an MP during the Vietnam War, so whatever you need from me, ask.”

  A veteran of Nam would make him late sixties or early seventies like Mr. Pat. “Thank you. I might take you up on that.”

  Alice asked, “Have you eaten, honey? You must be starving.”

  “Hah, Bobby took me to Lucy Bell’s, and we had two huge burgers. Thank you, I’m quite full.”

  “That’s all he eats. Burgers any time of the day,” Arnold added. “I’m sure you both downed those burgers with a few beers, right?”

  “Cold beers, yes.”

  “He does like those beers,” he offered, laughing.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Please.”

  “Did you or Alice hear anything early his morning?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I waved Arnold to follow me out of the kitchen and away from Carmelite. As I reached the door to my room, I asked, “Well, I’ve established that Bernard was not killed at Bloody Point Beach. So, I’m thinking he may have been killed around one of your homes and then moved to the beach.”

  “That’s new information. I didn’t hear anything all night or early morning. Have you asked Alice? I know she stayed up later watching TV in our living room.”

  “We’ll ask her later. I don’t need Carmelite reliving the moment. But, I do want to know more from her also. First, however, I need to speak to the ME who examined the body. I hope they’re done with the autopsy.”

  “Why don’t you do that from your room? I’ll ask Alice if she heard anything.”

  I went into my room, closed the door, and sat in a wingback chair, looking out through French doors to the calm wooded area outside my room. Following protocol, I called Captain Williams of the Hilton Head Police, who had approved my involvement.

  After holding for a few minutes, Williams came on the line. “This is Williams.”

  “Captain, this is Mancuso here.”

  “Yes, how is it going? I plan to stop by later today.”

  “Do you know if the autopsy is done?”

  “I know it’s done, but I haven’t reviewed the findings yet.”

  “Do you mind if I call the ME?” I asked. A squirrel walked right up to my door, exchanged a quick glance with me, and sped up a pine tree.

  “I’ll do you one better. Let’s do a conference call with her. Hold the line while I connect with Dr. Lobos.”

  A few moments later, the captain clicked me into the call. “Mr. Perego,” he said, using my alias, which I thought was thoughtful of him. “I have Dr. Marie Lobos, our ME. She’s done with the autopsy and can answer your questions.”

  “Hi, Dr. Lobos. I have a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

  “Please call me Marie,” she said in a southern drawl with just a hint of a Spanish accent.

  “Have you determined TOD?”

  “Between two and four in the morning.”

  “Two and four,” I repeated. “What about COD?”

  “Puncture wound with a foreign object to the jugular. The object appears to be multi-prong.”

  I put my hand in my pocket. “Okay. What about the other wounds to the body? The same foreign object, you think?”

  “Same foreign object, yes. Eleven punctures. And, it seems he was struck with a blunt object to the back of the head.”

  “Any defensive wounds?”

  “He was stabbed in his arms, I think as he protected himself. Which leads me to conclude that he was struck on the head, fell, and rolled around as he was being stabbed. With the twelfth being the fatal blow.”

  “Did the foreign object make deep puncture entries?”

  “No. Maybe an inch or less.”

  “Marie, what about the angle of entry of the object? Have you determined that?”

  “Mr. Perego, are you sure you’re a journalist?” she asked with a chuckle.

  “Call me an investigative reporter,” I replied.

  “The fatal puncture came at approximately thirty-five degrees, relative to the lower body. The others are about seventy to eighty degrees.”

  “Any idea about the object that caused the blunt-force trauma to the head?”

  “There were minuscule pieces of pine on the back of his head, so I say he was struck with a pine branch.”

  “You’ve been very helpful. Two more questions. How tall was Bernard?” My guess was six-two since I knew he was a little taller than my six-foot frame.

  “Bernard was six-feet, one-and-a-half-inches.”

  “Okay. My last question,” I said looking at an object in my hand. “Could the murder weapon, or foreign object, as you called it, be a common dinner fork?”

  “Ha! Yes, very much so. That would fit with the punctures I found.”

  “I see. Then, I have another question. Where the punctures made with four prongs?”

  “Exactly, yes.”

  “Joey, I mean Carlo. Did you find the murder weapon?” Captain Williams asked excitedly.

  “Perhaps, Captain. I went swimming where the body was found and stepped on a fork near the shore. My conclusion is that whoever the killer is threw the fork in the water. The tide coming in pushed it back close to the shore.”

  “Did you go in with a purpose, or were you just leisurely swimming in ice-cold water?”

  “Ah, no, I had a purpose.”

  “Marie, you think we can still find traces of blood on the fork?” the captain asked.

  “More than likely. Plus, I can probably match the entry punctures to the fork. At least eleven of them.”

  “Let me say, I cut myself on the fork, so you’re likely to find my blood also.”

  “We’ll test for all blood types. Hopefully, yours is a different type.”

  “Excellent. Good work, guys. Carlo, hold that fork. I’ll be there a bit later.”

  “Do me a favor, Captain?”

  “Sure. What you need?”

  “At the moment, I don’t want anyone to know we may have found the murder weapon. I’ll hand it over to you privately.”

  “No problem. Thank you both.”

  Perhaps I had the murder weapon. The thought made me happy. Based on the angles of entry, I was starting to deduce that the murderer was shorter than Bernard. Using Bernard’s height as a base, a taller murderer would have made the angles larger, over ninety degrees, coming from above. A person of Bernard’s height would be about ninety degrees. The puzzle was coming together.

  15

  Someone knocked on my bedroom door.

  “Come in, please.”

  Arnold walked in. “Carlo, Alice didn’t hear anything either. She went to bed at two after Bernard stopped in to tell her you were in.”

  “I see. That fits with the coroner’s report that the time of death was between two and four in the morning. What could Bernard have been doing after he spoke to your wife?”

  “Bernard didn’t sleep very much. He liked to work at all hours. His golf cart was by the house, one over from here.”

  “Can we walk over and take a look around?”

&n
bsp; “Sure. Let’s do it.”

  “First, I want to talk to Carmelite a minute.”

  “She’s in her room at the back.”

  I walked over and knocked on her door. I heard a faint “come in” from inside and let myself in. Carmelite was seated on the edge of her bed. “Carmelite, may I ask you a few questions?”

  She nodded.

  “Is there anyone who would want to hurt Bernard?”

  Tears sprung in her eyes. She shook her head and replied softly, “No one, Mr. Perego. We’re a small community. Many are family.”

  “How about outside of your community?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone. We pretty much stay to ourselves, do our work, and live a quiet life.”

  “Did Bernard come in after he dropped me off?”

  “After he dropped you off? No, he went to tell Ms. Alice that you had arrived. Then, he went to the other house to prepare to do some painting in the morning.”

  “So…” I stopped my question. Asking if she saw him before his death was going to upset her unnecessarily. “So, did you hear anything outside like a scuffle or a fight?”

  “No, nothing, Mr. Perego.”

  “Thank you, Carmelite. Sorry to trouble you with these questions.”

  “Did you mean what you said about finding his killer?” she asked, drying her tears with a tissue.

  “I’m going to do everything I can.”

  Reaching for my hand and squeezing it, she added, “I pray to God you will. Thank you, thank you.”

  Her request moved me. I had to find this killer no matter how long I had to stay on this island. I knew too well the feeling of despair and anguish that family members experience after a senseless death. The emptiness inside, coupled with the impotence to do something about it. Octavio was right, my motivation in being the last advocate of the victim was driven by my dad’s murder, and my inability to have closure. I needed to give Carmelite the peace I never got.

  Closing the door to her room, I walked into the kitchen where Alice and Arnold were sitting.

  “How is she, Carlo?” Alice asked.

  “As expected, I guess. The next few days are going to be difficult.”

  “We’ll take care of her,” Alice offered.

  “Should we walk over to the other house?” Arnold asked.

  Taking the back door, we walked through the woods to the other home they owned. Bernard’s golf cart was by a utility shed on the back of the house.

  “Let’s start by the golf cart. Did he keep paint in the utility shed?”

  “Yes, we keep it in there. He was painting the interior of the home.”

  “I’m looking for blood. My guess is Bernard was killed around here.”

  “If so, maybe we get lucky and find the murder weapon too.”

  I wasn’t going to tell him that I hoped I’d already found the murder weapon. “That would be a bonus.”

  We walked around the golf cart and the utility shed. Nothing. I noticed two paint cans on the ground by the entrance to the back door of the home. And there it was. Blood on the grass, pine needles, and the mush of wood chips, right by the entrance. “Arnold, right here!” I shouted.

  I stood up from my crouch and stepped back. I wanted to examine the surroundings. There was a tall hedge, maybe eight feet high, running the length of the property from the back to the front. I assumed that the killer was hiding behind the hedge and surprised Bernard as he was about to enter the house. I envisioned Bernard carrying two cans of paint and about to step up on a small landing by the back door. The killer walked from behind the hedge and swung a pine branch, striking Bernard on the back of the head and rendering him momentarily unconscious.

  “Carlo, look here.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Look at the blood spatter on the ground. It goes on for about five feet. Then, here,” Arnold said pointing, “here is where the majority of the blood is. What accounts for that other blood?”

  Arnold was not a suspect, but then, everyone was a suspect until they weren’t. How much to share was a consideration. “Bernard was hit on the back of the head with a pine tree branch. I assume here,” I said, indicating the original point of the blood spatter. “He was then stabbed around the body numerous times. So, my assumption is that he’s falling and the killer begins to stab him. As he falls and rolls, the killer continues to stab him,” I said, showing the continuous spatter. “Then here, the killer goes for the jugular with the final blow,” I added, gesturing with my right hand to act out the final stab.

  “My god. What would make someone do that?”

  “Let’s perimeter the area. Use some of the cans in the shed. I want the CSU crew to examine this area thoroughly.”

  “I’ll get the cans.”

  I walked back and forth to inspect the grass and the wood chips, where the blood was spattered. I noticed a partial bloody footprint in the pine needles. Maybe four inches of the front of a shoe. Taking out my iPhone, I began snapping pictures of the footprint and the surrounding area—the shed, the hedge, the back door, all of the backyard.

  Arnold had placed paint cans in a rectangle marking off a perimeter by the murder scene. “Let’s walk around and see if we find the branch used to strike Bernard. It should have blood traces on it,” I said.

  “Yes. And the murder weapon. A knife, correct?”

  “A sharp object. Maybe a knife, yes.”

  We spent a good half-hour looking everywhere. The sun was beginning to set, and we had found no branches with blood traces. I doubted that we would see it here. This murder was planned and well executed. The branch I was looking for was somewhere on the island, but because there were thousands of pine trees on this densely wooded island, I wasn’t sure we’d ever find it.

  Before walking back, I dialed Captain Williams. The officer that answered said he would transfer my call to his cell. “Captain, we’ve found the murder scene. We should get the CSU team here.”

  “You’re batting a thousand, my boy. Excellent. I’ll call now. I doubt I can gather the team to come now. Things don’t move as fast here as in New York. By the way, I’m right here at Alice’s, and I brought you a surprise. Come over. Alice and Carmelite are preparing a wonderful supper.”

  “I’ll be right over.” Surprise? “Captain, waiting until tomorrow for the CSU, well, shit happens you know; rain, evidence can get contaminated.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Arnold and I walked over. Captain Williams was waiting for us at the back. “Howdy, gents. You must be Carlo,” a portly, jolly-faced fellow of about sixty said, holding a cream-colored Stetson straw hat in his left hand, wearing a brown uniform.

  “Good to meet you, Captain. Any chance we can get the CSU here now?

  “I’m afraid those good old boys are scattered every which way.”

  Arnold and the captain said their hellos. “Carlo, come on in, there’s someone I want you to meet,” said Williams, smiling.

  I walked in after Williams and Arnold. Looking around with anticipation, I found no one, but the aroma of the food coming from the kitchen was outstanding.

  “Carlo, go to your room and clean up. You guys look like you’ve been playing in the dirt,” Alice said, smiling.

  I walked into my room and seated in the wingback chair in front of the sliding glass doors, with the beautiful wooded forest in the background, was my Marcy.

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Perego. I was looking for my husband, Joey Mancuso. However, you look mighty fine. I think you’ll do. Are you free for the night?”

  16

  The short ribs and garlic roasted potatoes that Alice made last night were outstanding. After supper—as my new southern friends referred to dinner—Marcy and I enjoyed a short visit with Alice, Arnold, and Captain Williams, who had stayed for the night. During supper and the subsequent short visit, the conversation avoided any mention of the case at hand and mainly discussed current events and a little history of the island for Marcy’s and my benefit.

>   Marcy’s visit was a welcomed surprise. Before retiring to our room for a very much needed romantic encounter, I took Marcy and a bottle of wine for a ride around the island in my newly assigned golf cart. Enjoying the chilly evening, the full moon, and the million stars that littered the night sky, we visited Bloody Point, where the body of Bernard was found.

  Bloody Point, we heard over dinner, was a historical site, which in 1715 was the location for a bloody battle between the Yemassee tribe and English settlers. The Spaniards grew uncomfortable with the settlers being so close to Florida and began encouraging the Yemassee Indians and other local tribes to raid the Daufuskie settlements. It was during one of the raids that the beach and this particular point ran red with the blood of the many who died. Thus, it was named Bloody Point. Ultimately, the Indians lost what became known as the Yemassee War, and the island, along with the Hilton Head area, began a transformation to the era of plantations.

  We awoke to a relentless tap, tap, tap, of a woodpecker, who was intent on pecking his way to the other side of a pine tree by our sliding glass doors overlooking the woods. It was six thirty in the morning, and the sun rays were beginning to illuminate the surrounding area as they penetrated the dense pines and other indigenous trees.

  “What’s your schedule today?” Marcy asked, still covered by a blanket up to her head.

  “I plan to make love to you at least three more times before breakfast. Yours?”

  “Right. After last night, I think you need a little recovery time. Besides, we are not alone in this house. The captain is occupying the other bedroom.”

  “I know, and I think he learned a little Spanish if he heard you last night. At least he knows that Ay Dios mio means oh, my god.” That statement got me a slap on my leg as Marcy began to get out of bed.

  “I’ll go see if coffee is ready. Get up and take a shower. I’m next.”

  After showering together, I took our mugs of coffee and went for a little ride over to the main house owned by Alice and Arnold. I needed to inspect a few things. Once there, I walked around the house. Moments later, a voice called out, “Hey you two. Come on in, and I’ll fill up those empty mugs.”