Joey Mancuso Mysteries Box Set

by Owen Parr

  “Very good. What is it you’re running to?”

  “Right. The life I’ve led so far has been all about crime. My career as a patrolman and as a homicide detective were all about murder—death. You see things almost every day that others are never exposed to. Despair. Sadness. Don’t get me wrong, the satisfaction of bringing perpetrators to justice alleviates those feelings, but you can’t erase what you’ve seen. You can’t forget the faces of the innocent victims’ families and their suffering. The visits to those families, to tell them their loved ones are in the morgue. That was always the hardest part of the job.”

  “Señor Joey, as a detective here, I’ve had my share of those moments, and I understand.”

  “What I’m running to is a more balanced life. A job that brings satisfaction, a family life with kids, a dog, maybe a white picket fence.”

  “A white picket fence?”

  “That’s another saying. A home, two kids, a dog, and a white picket fence is symbolism for a happy family life in a suburban setting. So, now that I’m married, that’s what I strive for, what am running toward.”

  “You think that by closing this case, you can forget the past?”

  “I don’t think forget is the right word. Our lives are like a book. You don’t forget a chapter. Instead, you go on to the next one with an understanding of the prior ones. Hopefully, you’ve learned from them, and hopefully you look forward to the next chapter. To answer your question, closing this case will simply close that chapter. I can bring closure to my mother and to me. It won’t erase the past, but it will ease the anxiety we both have about it.”

  “It will bring to justice the guilty party, yes?”

  “I hope it will.”

  My phone chirped. The hotel desk was calling to let me know my room was ready. I stood, and Octavio and I started for the lobby.

  As we entered the elevator, Octavio asked, “What is your plan?”

  “I plan to play all my cards with Sofia. It’s a poker game, but all my cards will be open. She can either play, knowing what I have, go all in, or fold. My observation is that the sisters weren’t behind the murders. But, I do believe they knew about it, or at least found out about it after it happened.”

  “Either way, they were an accessory.”

  “Yes, but their motivation was greed and survival. I hope I can appeal to those two principles again, making them understand they can keep what they have, but only at a price.”

  “The price being giving up the perp?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What can I do?”

  As we reached the lobby, I said, “Let me get my room key, and I’ll tell you what I need you to do. At two-thirty…”

  40

  The knock on my door came precisely at two. As I opened the door, Sofia stood there with a mischievous smile. She wore her bright red hair down, with a small white flower weaved into it, and a light peach silk chiffon dress that had a very revealing low-cut front, tied with spaghetti straps around her neck. “I just bought it. Do you like it?”

  I was frozen momentarily. “Yes, it’s very nice.”

  “Can I come in, or are we going to stand here?”

  I moved to the side to let her in. While not entirely transparent, the dress left nothing to the imagination. Her full breasts were on display through the silk. It was a mixture of pink on pink that created a minor mystery. As she fluttered into the room, caressing my face, she turned toward, me exposing a frontal view that was accentuated by a minuscule red-lace undergarment that was visible through the chiffon. Oh shit.

  “I don’t see lunch, but I do see you ordered Champagne! Very thoughtful,” she said, looking out the window toward Passeig Boulevard as she dropped her purse on the night table.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” I asked, pointing to a love seat in front of the window.

  “Open the bubbly, and I’ll make myself comfortable,” she said, reaching for the spaghetti straps. “Have you wondered if I’m a real redhead?”

  I ignored the question. “I think you’re comfortable enough,” I said, imagining what she was about to do. “Have a seat, and let’s talk for a while.”

  “I have all day and most of the night.”

  I sat on the corner of the bed facing the love seat. “I think you know why I’m here.”

  “Yes. You were going to tell me my future. I’d love to hear it,” she said, smiling coyly.

  “Things happened in 1997. Many things. One was the murder of my father, Paolo Mancuso.”

  “I know, and you think my sister and I had something to do with it.”

  I was surprised at her admission, and my facial expression showed it.

  “Oh, I know you know. I spoke to Susana last night after your brother visited her. We’re not murderers.”

  “I think I agree with that,” I started. Appealing to her motivators, I added, “Both of you have worked hard to position yourselves in these two families. Unfortunately, that may come to an end very soon.”

  “How so?”

  “One or more of you is responsible for my dad’s death. The only thing I want is to solve his murder. Nothing else. I don’t care about other things going on. But, in solving this mystery, I may inadvertently bring down the whole house of cards. And that does not bode well for your future.”

  “How much do you know?”

  “I know Maestro has an organized crime connection for whom he’s laundering money. I know you met Maestro when you opened an account at Abacus Federal back in 1996 or 1997. I’m sure Maestro told you about the partners back then. You, being a survivor, saw an opportunity to latch onto something that could secure both you and your sister’s well-being. Am I correct so far?”

  “Look, if Susana and I were killers, we would have taken care of the partners long ago. Instead, we both have been in our marriages for all this time.”

  “True. Marriages of convenience, but you’re right. Although you couldn’t eliminate the partners outright. You needed them. And, after all, you both have your own lives outside of your marriages.”

  “Look, my husband is a depraved old man, seeking satisfaction with young men, some minors. I couldn’t care less if he was gay, but he’s more than that. He’s a pedophile. My sister’s husband is an alcoholic, and at first, he was a wife-beater. But, we cured him of that a long time ago. He lost a testicle as a result of his aggression, and we promised to take the other one if he persisted.”

  “I don’t care about your marriages. I need you to tell me who ordered the hit on my dad.”

  “And then what? Life goes on for the rest of us?”

  “As I said, all I want is justice for my father. The rest of you can keep living your miserable lives.”

  “So, Joey Mancuso, the last advocate, is willing to walk away from solving a series of crimes just to avenge his father’s murder?”

  There was a knock on the door. I looked at my watch—two-thirty.

  “Who the hell is that?” Sofia asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said, opening the door.

  “Señor Joey, we’ve been calling your cell and room phone,” said Octavio, visibly agitated.

  This was part of the plan, but his demeanor was more than an act. I looked at the room phone. It was sitting, disconnected, next to Sofia’s purse. My cell phone was on the dresser on vibration only.

  “What’s the problem, Octavio?”

  “Your office contacted me when they couldn’t reach you. There’s bad news from back home.” This wasn’t our plan at all.

  “What is it, man?”

  “Your brother, El Padre Dominic, he’s been shot.”

  “Fuck!” I turned to Sofia and pointed at her. “You have better had nothing to do with this, or I swear to God, you’re all dead. Get the hell out of my room.”

  Octavio opened the door for her as she quickly exited my room.

  “They said to call your wife on her cell,” Octavio said.

  “Do you know his condition?”

&n
bsp; “No, Joey. They were headed to the hospital.”

  My hands were trembling, and the fucking face ID recognition bullshit thing on my phone was not working. “Octavio, please punch in 0217, then open my contacts and find Marcy’s name.”

  Marcy answered after just one ring, “Joey, where have you been?”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. The bullet grazed his right arm. It’s a superficial wound.”

  “Hang on a second.” I turned to Octavio. “El Padre is fine.”

  Octavio gave me a thumbs up.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “There’s a parishioner who was also wounded. He and Dom were talking in front of the church,”

  “Was the other person killed?”

  “No, he’s wounded. The same round that grazed Dom hit the man in his right chest. Through and through, and fortunately missed everything that could have been fatal. He’s in surgery, expected to recover.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “A lady parishioner saw a black sedan drive in front of the church. They saw what looked like a man lower his car window. Then, without any sound, both Dom and the man next to him went down. The car sped off after that.”

  “License plate, make of car? Anything?”

  “The lady was being questioned by the NYPD. I don’t have any details yet. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to have Octavio drive me to the airport, and I’m going to take the next plane back. Are you sure Dom is all right?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “He’s sedated. Call me from the airport, I’m sure he’ll be able to speak then.”

  “Do we know if Dom or the other parishioner was the target?”

  “The other parishioner was a man in his eighties. I can’t imagine someone wanting to kill him.”

  “Okay, so Dom was the target?”

  “I don’t know Joey. Too soon to tell.”

  “Was the black sedan old, new, what?”

  “I don’t know. The lady referred to it as shiny black.”

  “Shiny tells me it’s fairly new, maybe. Right?”

  “Look, I can tell you’re nervous. You’re not going to solve it now. Just get here. In the meantime, I’ll find out who’s on the case and what other info they have.”

  “Was the bullet recovered?”

  “You’re still working the case. Yes, I think it was. I heard it was lodged in the church’s door.”

  “Good, good. Marcy this is horrible. Dom is always worried that you or me is going to get shot again. Now, he’s the one shot at.”

  “Look at it this way, now we all have something in common. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be fine.”

  “Find out who’s on the case. I want to speak to the detective before I board the plane. Can you do that?”

  “Just call me from the airport. Love you.”

  “Is your brother going to be okay?” asked Octavio.

  I was a bit calmer now, assured that Dom was fine. “It seems it was a superficial wound to his right arm. Just grazed him. He might have to use his left arm to give out communion during mass.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.”

  “The thing is, he’s such a worry-wort. He’s tense every time we’re on a case. Always worried something is going to happen, you know.”

  “You think these people are involved?”

  I turned to look at Octavio. “They better not be. Or things are going to change radically.”

  41

  The grin and the wink didn’t help me with Arturo Garcia, the ticket clerk at the airline counter. However, the C-note did score me an aisle seat in an exit row on the next non-stop to La Guardia, leaving at six in the evening.

  Octavio wanted to stay with me until I boarded, and I thought that was very kind of him. A friend, indeed.

  I dialed Marcy, who picked up after three rings. “Hey love, how’s Dom?”

  “He’s fine. A little groggy, but I’ll put him on for you.”

  “Wait. Tell me about the detective on the case.”

  “Are you at the airport?”

  “Yes. I’m on a non-stop to La Guardia. I’ll text you the arrival time.”

  “Good, I’ll pick you up. I’m going to text you the detective’s name and number. He’s waiting for your call. Here’s Dom.”

  “Joey, how are you?” Dom asked, slurring his words.

  “I’m fine, bro. You’re under the influence, I guess. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m feeling good. Scared the shit out of me, though.”

  “I can imagine. You’ll be fine. How long are they going to keep you there?”

  “They said that as soon as I can walk without falling on my ass, I can go back to the rectory.”

  “Well, you’re not going back to the rectory. You’ll be staying with Marcy and me until we find out what’s going on.”

  “Joey, I have things to do back at—”

  “Brother, I’m sure God can give you a few days off. You have a new associate pastor, so he can handle Saint Helen’s for a few days. Don’t give me any shit about this, okay?”

  “Does Marcy mind?”

  “Of course not. She’s the one that suggested it.”

  “Okay. When are you coming home?” he asked, still slurring.

  “I’m on the next flight home. I’ll see you in a few hours. Get some sleep.”

  “Be safe, Joey.”

  “Let me speak to Marcy, please. Love you, bro.”

  “Hey.”

  “Marcy, we need to call my mother.”

  “I already called her. She’s fine. Wants to fly up.”

  “Good. Listen, I told Dom that it was your idea for him to stay with us for a few days. I don’t want him at the rectory until we know what’s going on.”

  “Perfect. I think he’s being released later. I’ll drop him off and go pick you up.”

  “I don’t want him alone at our place. Have Patrick babysit until we come in.”

  “You think someone is going to try again?” she whispered.

  My phoned dinged. “I just got your text. I would feel better if he’s not alone. We don’t know what’s going on.”

  “No problem. Mr. Pat is here. I’ll tell him.”

  “How’s the other person who was shot?”

  “Recovering. His age doesn’t help, but I’m told he’ll be fine.”

  “By the way, how are you doing? Any headaches or morning sickness?”

  I could feel her smile on the other end. “Maybe. We’ll talk about it when you get in.”

  “Love you.”

  Now, I knew we were pregnant. Looking at her text, I dialed Detective Oliva’s cell number.

  “This is Al Oliva. How can I help you?”

  “Detective Oliva, this is Joey Mancuso.”

  “Mancuso, sorry about your brother. Is he okay?”

  “Call me Joey. He’s fine. I think he got lucky. What do you have?”

  “We only have the one witness, and we’ve questioned her.”

  “Any clues from her statement?”

  “She saw a black sedan that drove slowly in front of the church, stopped, lowered the driver’s-side window. The next thing she remembers is your brother and the other parishioner falling down in front of the church.”

  “Where was she standing?”

  “She had exited the church and was on the steps leading to the sidewalk.”

  “Can she identify the person in the car?”

  “Never saw his face that close.”

  “You said ‘his face.’ Did she say it was a man?”

  “She thinks it was. Or, a woman with short hair.”

  “What color hair?”

  “Black, she thinks.”

  “How about the make of the shiny black car?”

  “She didn’t know, but we showed her pictures of big black sedans.”

  “And?”

  “She picked two out that could be the
car she saw. A Mercedes CLS or a BMW 760. Both cars are similar in shape.”

  “A Mercedes CLS?”

  “And the Beemer. Why?”

  “Can you hold the line a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  “If the line goes dead, I’ll call you right back.”

  I called Marcy to confirm something I remembered. Marcy also pointed something she noticed about Maestro’s car when we visited the restaurant. Moments later, I was back with Oliva. “Oliva, we’re working on a case for the Midtown South Precinct, and we have a person of interest that drives a black Mercedes CLS. That could be our guy.”

  “Call me Al. Why would he want to kill your brother?”

  “What was the caliber of the round?”

  “It was a twenty-two.”

  “First, had I been in town, I’m sure I’m the one who would have been shot at. Second, I don’t think they intended to kill anyone, not with a twenty-two shot at a distance.”

  “So, they were trying to scare you? Or warn you?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “What case are you working on?”

  “It’s a twenty-year-old cold case. A murder.”

  “Shit, don’t they have any fresh cases to give you?”

  “It was my father’s murder.”

  “Oh man, I’m sorry about that.”

  “I understand. Now listen, check to see if a Charles Maestro has a twenty-two registered under his name. Also, see if you can show this lady a photo of Maestro and his car. Maybe she’ll remember his face if she sees it. But, do a six-pack, just in case.”

  “I know the drill. You have an address for this Maestro guy?”

  “I’ll have my office send you info on him. One more thing, Al. See if the lady remembers anything else about the car. Maestro’s CLS has tinted windows, but the back window behind the driver’s was half off, like it was peeling. Got that?”

  “Are you still out of town?”

  “Flying back from Spain. I should be back in New York later. Make a note of my cell number and call me any time.”

  “You think your brother is still in danger?”

  “I don’t think so. I think they got their message across, but I’m having someone babysit him just in case.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as we have something, Joey.”