Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  We walked into the house, and Alice was there with the biggest grin. “You guys slept okay?”

  Marcy replied, “Like two babies,” without looking at me.

  “Here, I just made this fresh pot. Let me have those mugs. Cream and sugar?”

  “Cream and lots of sugar for Marcy. Just cream for me.”

  “I want you to try these honey buns I just baked. Help yourselves. There’s cutlery in that drawer.”

  “We’ll share one. I saw Carmelite preparing a breakfast feast,” Marcy said.

  Upon our return, we went into the dining room to enjoy a Carmelite’s breakfast of bacon, pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a side of southern biscuits with gravy. We devoured the freshly made feast along with the captain.

  “Joey, do you have something for me?”

  I nodded. “In a minute.”

  “No hurry,” the captain replied.

  “Let me get it from my room. I borrowed a small plastic bag from Alice yesterday and put it in there. Back in a minute.”

  Handing over the fork to the captain, he made a notation on a white label and attached it to the bag. “So, you said we'd find your blood on it, right?”

  “If Marie can still find traces of blood, you’ll have A positive on it. That’s mine. Hopefully, we’ll find…” I hesitated. Carmelite was within earshot of our conversation. Lowering my voice, I added, “you’ll find our vic’s blood also.”

  “That would be B positive. I had Marie check that,” the captain said in a hushed voice.

  Carmelite noticed our hushed conversation and came over to the table. “I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee. I’ll be in my room if you need anything else.”

  Marcy said, “Carmelite, this was wonderful. You didn’t have to do so much for us.”

  “Oh, Ms. Marcy, thank you. I need to stay busy. Knock on my door if you need anything.”

  Moving over to the living room. Marcy, the captain, and I resumed our conversation.

  “There should be a crime scene crew arriving shortly to examine the scene of the murder,” the captain said, looking at his watch. “Have you been able to gather any clues?”

  I glanced at Marcy and then back at Williams. “I’ve got a list of suspects. I’ll be able to narrow it down when I speak to my office in New York. I texted Agnes, my research person, yesterday with additional names to look into.”

  “How many names do you have?” Williams asked, eyes wide with surprise.

  I smiled and took a sip of coffee. “For your information, my practice is to include everyone I can imagine did it, and then narrow it down. Everyone is a suspect until they’re not. You know what I mean?”

  Williams glanced at Marcy, eyes still wide, the space between his eyebrows starting to narrow. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “The problem I’m having with this case is that it lacks motivation. As you know, there are two parts to a crime of this nature.” I looked around to make sure we were alone. “There’s the motivation, and then there’s the opportunity. Everyone on my list had the opportunity, but for the life of me, I can’t come up with a motive.”

  Marcy sat cross-legged in a club chair, drinking her coffee, and smiling at my dissertation.

  “Maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, lacking any logic to it,” Williams suggested.

  “That’s a possibility, but there’s been four murders in two years and two additional missing persons, who I believe were victims of the same killer.”

  “My god. Do you think we have a serial killer?” Williams asked, putting down his mug on the coffee table.

  “Technically, yes,” I replied. I turned to Marcy. “Marcy, what’d you think?”

  She leaned forward in her club chair. “Joey is right. Technically, you need at least three murders to fit the definition. And unfortunately, if these are connected, you have four. Plus, the two missing persons, who may be connected. The murders have occurred at different times, as opposed to all in a compressed period, like a mass murderer. Lastly, you need one or more perpetrators, and we know we have that.”

  “So, who’s on your list?” Williams asked again.

  I opened the notepad that I brought over with the probable murder weapon and began to read off the names. “Tiunal and Corbeau Elbaib, —”

  “Who the hell are those?” Williams asked, stupefied.

  I looked up from my notes, “That’s a couple who rent a home right on the beach at Bloody Point. Tiunal and her dog, Mauvais, found the body early morning. They have a clear view of where the body was found.”

  “I see. Who else is on this list?”

  “Before I get into that, here’s my phone. Tiunal punched in her husband’s cell number. When your crime unit crew comes in, see if they can dust for prints. You’ll have mine and hers. Do me a favor and see if we can identify her further.”

  “You don’t think she is who she says she is?”

  “Run both those names, her husbands and hers. You may have to run it through INTERPOL.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that. Who else is on the list?”

  “Mr. Wetherly has his grandson visiting with a bunch of other kids from The Citadel with him. At the moment, they’re all suspects.”

  Williams’s jaw dropped. “What? All the kids?”

  “I know. But, if one did it, they all did it. Ever been any complaints about these kids?”

  “They’re just kids doing their thing. They’ve been coming to the island forever. Especially the grandson.”

  “Well, what’s interesting is that they saw me retrieve the fork from the beach, and they made an effort to take it from me.”

  “What kind of an effort?”

  “Ill-conceived,” I said, glancing at my bruised knuckles. “It was handled.”

  Both Marcy and Williams glanced at my left hand.

  “Anyone else?”

  “Yes. There’s Bobby Valentine, the fellow who works for Alice and Arnold. Then there’s Alice and Arnold themselves.”

  “Really? Alice and Arnold?” he asked almost in a whisper.

  “As I said, everyone is a suspect—”

  “Until they’re not,” Marcy finished.

  “Also, Captain, as much as you’re going to dislike this, there’s Officer Reed.”

  “My Officer Allan Reed? Why? What do you think links him to these murders?”

  “There’s the fact, if I’m not mistaken, that he investigated all five prior incidents. Then, there’s the manner in which he referred to the Gullah people here—Geechees. In a condescending tone.”

  “I didn’t hear his tone, but the term Geechees is not a derogatory term. One of the origins is said to be the Ogeechee River near Savannah.”

  “I understand. For now, I would like to keep him on the list.”

  Williams looked at Marcy. “Wow. That’s quite the list.”

  “As soon as I do a little more research, I’ll narrow it down.”

  “You think one of them is the killer?”

  “They all had the opportunity. Plus, all of them have been here on the island either full-time, or on and off for the last two or more years. That’s part of the research we’re doing. I need to know if anyone of them was not here at the time of any of the murders.”

  “If you find the dates they were here, I’ll have my office provide the dates of the past murders and the two missing persons. Then, we can compare.”

  “Perfect.”

  Williams got up from his chair. “I’m going over to the murder scene to meet the crew. I’ll see you guys later?”

  “Yes, sir, we’ll be around. I’m going to call my office now and see how much we already have.”

  17

  Marcy and I went back to our room for added privacy for our call to Agnes. The woodpecker was back at work. I had found the murder scene just doors from us. In all likelihood, we had the murder weapon. And, I had identified some potential suspects, all who had opportunity. All that was lacking was motivation. Why? Why would anyone be killing the locals, known a
s the Gullahs? Geechees, as they were called.

  Taking a seat opposite Marcy with a view of the outdoors, I dialed Agnes. “Young lady, how is New York?”

  “Still unseasonably cold. How about Marcy’s surprise?”

  “The best I’ve had in a long time,” I replied, smiling at my wife. “How’s the research coming along? I assume you got my text last night.”

  “I did, and I have few things with you. Who do you want first?”

  “Let me put you on speaker so that Marcy can listen in. How about the creepy lady and her husband? Tiunal and Corbeau.”

  “There’s nothing on these people before 2013. Unless they’re foreigners and came over then. Tax reporting, social security, credit cards, everything started in 2013. It’s strange because they show up as US citizens.”

  “Okay. Does the last name Elbaid give you a clue as to where they’re from?”

  “Yeah well, the creepiness starts there. There’s no such last name anywhere. However, since it looks made up, I played with the name. If you reverse the letters, you get Diable. You know what that is?”

  “Devil in French.”

  “Exactly. And the first name Corbeau is also French, and one meaning is raven. Weird or what?”

  “I agree. What about the wife? Tiunal? Did you find a meaning to that?”

  “No but playing around with the name again and reversing the letters you get lanuit. Now, if you add a space after the a, we have la nuit. Which means darkness, or the night.”

  Marcy was looking at me with a quizzical expression, as I repeated some of the words. “Agnes, for the hell of it, pun intended, what does Mauvais mean?” I asked, spelling the word for her.

  “Who is that, their son?”

  I laughed. “No, their Rottweiler.”

  “In French, it means evil. Who are these people, Joey?”

  “Very strange, that’s who they are. Listen, research satanic rituals. See if there’s a connection to stabbing with a knife or a fork.”

  “A fork?”

  “The devil carries a fork, right?”

  “Funny. I’ll check. You want the others?”

  “Tell me about Valentine.”

  “Robert Valentine. I found two in Bainbridge, Georgia, a city bordering Alabama and Florida. One is seventy-four, the other thirty-seven. The thirty-seven-year-old is related to an Arnold Bixby, and Bixby is married to Alice Ritter.”

  “Great. You found them all.”

  “Yes, but Valentine never served in the armed forces. He did serve, but time for aggravated assault in a state penitentiary in Georgia.”

  “So, the time he served, he just told everyone it was in the armed forces.”

  “And, you said he commuted to Daufuskie Island for a while before he moved there full time. That’s because his last year, he was in a halfway house and was required to find work and sleep at the house.”

  “That fits with the story I have. Okay. What about the Bixbys?”

  “Arnold Bixby did serve in Vietnam and was an MP, as you said. He’s a pipe fitter and is still a member of a local union in South Carolina.”

  “So far, he’s the only one that checks out. Tell me about his wife.”

  “Alice Ritter, local to Savannah, Georgia. Graduated from high school there. Married Arnold in 2004, and the two of them, together with their son Albert, lived in Savannah until moving full time to the island.”

  “You said a son named Albert?”

  “Hang on a second. Let me drill down some more. Oh, wait. The son passed away in 2015 in an accident in Daufuskie. And, and, the son had autism, according to these records.”

  “Agnes, there must be a death certificate with an explanation of the death. Find that and see what it says. Either call me or text me with that information.”

  “Will do.”

  “How about Officer Reed, first name Allan?”

  “I owe you that. Didn’t have a chance to check him out. Hope this helps.”

  “Before I forget, see if there’s a way to find out if these people were on the island the days of the past murders. I’ll send you the dates when I get them.”

  “That’s going to be almost impossible to find. But, I’ll give it a try.”

  “Okay. Great work so far, as usual. Is Dominic in?”

  “No, he had a wedding rehearsal at his church.”

  “Yours?” I said, laughing.

  “I wish. Achi is not there yet. By the way, your suggestion about moving up here from Miami got him thinking. I believe he’s getting an offer from NYU to teach there.”

  “That would be wonderful, Agnes. Congrats!” Marcy said.

  “Don’t count those chickens before they hatch. Still has to interview a second time and all. But, Columbia wants to interview him too, so we’re close to getting him up here.”

  “As soon as you have the rest, send it to me. Also, make reservations for Marcy and me to return to New York a day after tomorrow, in the evening.”

  Marcy looked at me in astonishment. “What?” she whispered.

  “Sounds like you’re wrapping this one up quick. Are you?” Agnes asked.

  “I need your info to dot the I’s and cross the T’s. I have another case to get back to in New York.”

  “Wow, you’re like the microwave of detectives. Pop it in, and in sixty seconds, you’re done.”

  “Funny, but that sounds more like Professor Achilles’s sex life.”

  “Joey!” Marcy shouted.

  “It’s okay, Marcy. Knowing your husband, I left myself open for that. Back to work, lovers. Talk to you soon. Mr. Pat says hello.”

  “Back at him. Tell Mr. Pat I’ll need him when I get back to New York.”

  “I’ll let him know. He’s anxious to do something. Over and out.”

  As I clicked off Agnes, there was a knock on our room door. “Yes, who is it?”

  “It’s Alice.”

  “Shit, you think she was listening?” Marcy asked in a whisper.

  I got up to open the door and whispered back, “I hope not.” Opening the door, I found Alice smiling.

  “Guys, I’m going to go back to my home. Can I fix you some sandwiches before I go?”

  I looked over at Marcy, and she replied, “Something simple. We want to take a ride around the island. I only saw it last night.”

  “Wonderful. Make it a picnic. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  A few moments later, Alice handed us a picnic basket with fruits, sandwiches, and sodas. I brought the freshly laundered towel creepy Tiunal allowed me to borrow. Marcy got behind the driver’s seat on the golf cart, and we were off for a ride and some privacy.

  “Are you wrapping this up in two more days?”

  “Like I told Agnes, I just need a few more facts to confirm my suspicions.”

  “Which are?”

  “You’re not leaving, right? So, hang in there and be surprised.”

  “You’re so full of shit, Joey. You’re not going to tell me?”

  “Ah… no. Let me put it all together first.”

  “You’re such a pain in the ass. Let me see if I can guess.”

  “Go for it.”

  “My first guess is the French couple with the weird names. It sounds as if they're part of some satanic group. I mean those names translations; - raven, darkness, and evil for the dog. Those are made up names. Shit, and the last name; -the devil. Who does that?” I’m I warm?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re irritating. Anyway, my second guess is this guy Bobby Valentine. He lied about being in prison for aggravated assault. You said he might be prejudiced about African-Americans, and—”

  “No, I never said that. I said Alice told me he might be, as a result of his upbringing. As a matter of fact, he spoke kindly of Bernard.”

  “But, you did say he has martial arts skills you’ve never seen before. So, I’m sure he’s capable.”

  “Having those skills and being a murderer is not self-incl
usive. No, this murder, the manner in which it was done, has a definite component of emotion. You don’t stab someone eleven times then administer the final blow, if not. But again, maybe.”

  Before Marcy could finish her construction of the clues leading to a potential perpetrator, we heard a siren behind us. As I turned around, I saw a police Jeep speeding toward us. “Pull over. Let’s see what’s up.”

  Officer Reed pulled up right behind our golf cart, and both he and Captain Williams, who was putting on his Stetson hat, got out of the Jeep with a look of distress on their faces.

  “Hi guys, you look like someone else died. Do we have another body?” I asked, getting out of the golf cart.

  “Mancuso, put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest,” the captain said.

  18

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded.

  “We found Bernard’s blood in the golf cart you were using yesterday morning. And, preliminarily, the crime unit found traces of Bernard’s blood on the fork, which happens to have your blood on it too.”

  “I told you how my blood got on the fork,” I said, standing there with my hands cuffed behind my back.

  “Yeah, that’s very convenient. You went into the ocean to find and remove the murder weapon in the event we were going to do it,” added Reed.

  You weren’t going to do a fucking thing, asshole. But being cuffed and under arrest, I didn’t want to exacerbate the situation by saying what I was thinking. “Captain, think about this. Why would I tell you about the fork if I wanted to make it disappear? Why would I offer up the fact my blood was on it? It doesn’t make any sense. The first time we spoke, I mentioned the fork. That’s not what a murderer would do with the murder weapon, now is it?”

  “Captain,” Marcy broke in, “we didn’t tell you last night, but I’m a special agent with the FBI.” She showed him her badge and credentials.

  “So, are you here on official business?” asked Reed, somewhat perturbed.

  “I can be,” Marcy replied sternly.

  My argument seemed to have affected Williams. He was quiet and pensive. “What do you propose?” he asked.