The Unsub: Joey Mancuso, Father O'Brian Crime Mysteries Book 7: (Joey Mancuso, Father O'Brian Crime Mystery)

by Owen Parr

  “And, I’m a pub owner and my brother is a priest.” I gave him a so what? look.

  He inclined his head. “Touché.”

  8

  Joey Mancuso ~

  Jack stayed at the marina, and I proceeded to the Marriott South Beach where Marcy and I were staying. I wanted to call Agnes at the office and have her start some research.

  This hotel was small, but it was right on the beach. I got a kick every time I walked into the lobby and instantly picked up the scent of suntan oil. It was like everybody had it on. My mind flashed an image of the iconic Coppertone Girl and the dog.

  Reaching our floor, I walked into our ocean-front room and announced my entrance. “Hello, Marcy, I’m home.”

  She poked her head in from the balcony. “Well, you must have some good news. How did it go?”

  “Jack starts his job tomorrow. And, we met with Ed Wells, Gene’s father.”

  “Poor man. What does he have to say?”

  I joined her out on the balcony. The view of the Atlantic was magnificent. The blues varied from a baby blue sky with light puffy white clouds to the light blue, periwinkle, and powder blue that covered the ocean in front of us. It was an ever-changing canvas, delighting our sense of sight.

  Replying to her question, I said, “He’s convinced that his son was murdered.”

  She studied my face. “What’d you think?”

  I sighed. I wasn't entirely sure what I thought. “There are so many accidents at that time of the morning, mostly people coming out of clubs and likely intoxicated. It could simply be an accident. However, the information we found on his phone does corroborate Gene’s concerns about his company’s trading practices. But, connecting his death to his work is a stretch, as Detective Logan said.”

  “How are you going to proceed?”

  “I’m calling Agnes to start our research on the principals of the hedge fund. Also on James Roth, who’s an employee there and was with Gene at the club that night.”

  Marcy hummed and was silent for a few moments. “I think I need to get back to New York. Do you need me here?”

  I wanted Marcy to stay so we could enjoy our trip. But she was like an action person, couldn’t stay idle for too long. And in all honesty, I had work to do.

  “I would love for you to stay here. But it makes no sense. You need to get back to work, and I don’t know how long I’ll be here. Instead of paying these exorbitant hotel fees, I think I’ll ask Jack to let me stay with him.”

  “Huh. I don’t know if I like that,” Marcy said, laughing. “Single and living onboard a party boat in South Beach.”

  “Marcy, you think I…”

  “Just kidding, Mancuso. Just remember I carry a Glock.” She cocked an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look.

  I snorted. “Funny. On a serious note, this company has an office in New York City. If we start connecting dots, I’ll feed you the info and maybe you can open a case.”

  “That would be fun. However, Miami’s White-Collar division may want a part of it,” she said as we went back into our room and she closed the sliding glass door.

  “That’s up to the politics of the Bureau. But if you open it, it should be your lead. But we developed other leads we want to follow up tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, what leads?”

  “In questioning Ed Wells, he remembered two things that could possibly lead us to two more suspects. Detective Logan will hopefully accompany me tomorrow to check them out.” I went on to give Marcy the scope of what we had planned.

  “How long do you think you’ll stay?”

  “I don’t know, I’ll check Jack’s schedule for any parties he’s got planned. I’ll go from there,” I replied, smiling, and before she replied, I added, “Just kidding. Maybe a few days, I want to see what he uncovers. You know I can’t live without you,” I said, grabbing her hand.

  Marcy stood up and embraced me, and we kissed.

  “How about room service?” I suggested.

  Her grin was mischievous. “Better yet, how about you place the do not disturb sign on the door? After which, we’ll have drinks and dinner in the open-air restaurant overlooking the Atlantic Ocean downstairs. I want to take advantage of the warm weather before I go home.”

  “Love the plan. I’ll call Agnes and talk fast.”

  “Ah…no. Put the phone on mute and follow me.”

  Marcy undid the straps on the top of her sundress, and as it dropped to the carpet, she said in a sensual tone, “Come here.”

  I did as instructed, not willing to pass up this opportunity. “Yeah, Agnes can wait.”

  We could hear the music from the pool area and the waves crashing into the shore. After a while, all the sounds became a distant hum as we made our own cacophony of sounds.

  ***

  An hour and a half later, wearing nothing but my underwear, I walked out onto the balcony and took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh ocean breeze and the welcoming hot sun on my face. It was time to call Agnes. I reached for my phone, and three rings later, she answered warmly.

  “Hey, Joey, how are you guys doing?”

  “We’re doing great, thank you. All good in the city?”

  “Peachy. Attorney Ruth Goldstein called. I think she has a case for us.”

  Attorney Ruth was a senior partner at Bevans and Associates, one of the leading criminal law firms in New York. We had been their main investigators until I implicated the son of one of their bigger clients complicit in a series of murders. So, we were put on their shitlist for a few months. Hopefully, that was coming to an end now, though.

  “You have any idea what it's about?” I asked as I lit a cigar and sat facing the ocean. I remained vigilant for any hotel employee who could detect my smoking. Most Marriotts, and this one was no different, didn’t allow smoking within their premises.

  “No. But in today’s local news, a football player was arrested and charged with murdering his wife. The report did say Bevans and Associates was representing the player.”

  “Hah. Jets or Giants?” Because that obviously mattered.

  “Buffalo.”

  “Who’s the player?”

  “Otis Russell. Should I start research?”

  “I’ll call Ruth Goldstein tomorrow. Let’s make sure that’s our case. In the meantime, I need you to do some other research. Let me know when you’re ready to take notes,” I said, flicking the long ashes into a plastic water cup that was functioning as my ashtray.

  “Tablet is ready.”

  “Fönix Securities and Financial Services. Fönix means phoenix in Czech. Two little dots above the O. One of the principals is Jan Bobal. Born in Prague in 1980. The other owner is George Newton. Their main office is in Miami Beach, but they also have an office in New York.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Yes. Anyone working at this hedge fund company. Next, James Roth. Lives in Miami. In his thirties.”

  “That’s a common name,” Agnes commented.

  “He must be licensed with the SEC. Start there. Also, Gene Wells, our vic. Also, SEC licensed I’m sure. And, lives—lived in Miami Shores with his dad and mom. Sergeant Edward Wells, Miami Shores Police,” I said as I heard Marcy calling from the bedroom.

  “Okay, Joey, I got it. Why don’t you call Ruth now? You have her cell phone number.”

  Marcy stuck her head out the door of the bedroom and said in a very sexual tone, “I’m ready for drinks and dinner.”

  “Listen, something came up. I’ll call Ruth tomorrow.”

  “Fine, say hello to Marcy,” Agnes said and disconnected.

  I wanted to call Goldstein and hopefully reestablish our relationship, but it was going to have to wait. I deposited the remnants of the cigar into the cup and placed on the floor, something Marcy would give me a hard time for later.

  9

  Jack Ryder ~

  Breaking one of my rules, I had set the alarm on my phone for six in the morning. Brewed some coffee and took care of two of the three infamous
Ss. No shaving while undercover. I quickly took Max out for his morning needs. I’m sure he was wondering what was up with me. I noticed a text from Joey telling me he was taking Marcy to the airport and asking if I wouldn't be inconvenienced if he stayed on the boat for a couple of days.

  I responded, Come over anytime. Door unlocked. Please take Max for a walk. There’re rules while staying onboard. Any guest becomes a mate and agrees to bartender, cook, and do your own laundry. Nothing goes down the head if you didn’t eat it. Finally, a daily shower is required. If you agree, reply ‘Yes captain.’

  Within minutes, I got his reply. Yes Captain, LMAO.

  I arrived at the office at seven, and another employee led me to my new desk. There, I found a note from James.

  “As soon as I arrive, I’ll show you how to work the computer. In the meantime, familiarize yourself with these clients. All files in lower drawer on your right. We want you to introduce yourself to all clients you’ll be working with. But, don’t call before nine am. Note west coast clients, and don’t wake anyone up. LOL.”

  I opened the drawer and found roughly twenty files and began reviewing them. This was going to be a great opportunity. I was going to be able to talk to clients and do a little covert investigation.

  I heard, “Good morning, Arthur. Glad you’re here,” from behind me.

  Standing up and turning toward my greeter, I said, “Good morning to you, Mr. Bobal.”

  “Please call me Jan. How about you? Art? Or Arthur?”

  “My ex-wife has a different name." I snorted at my own, true joke. "But Art is fine.”

  “Hah, understood. Did you see the note from James?”

  “Yes, and I started perusing the client’s files. But I only see about twenty files. Is that all I have to cover?” I said, running my fingers through the pile.

  “Most of those are referrals from our other clients, which I cover and trade for. I’ll give you some bigger clients as you become more familiar with our operation, don’t worry. Understand that most of the time you’ll be trading and not talking to clients.”

  I inclined my head. “Very well. I’ll become familiar with these today.”

  “Good. I’ll leave you to that. Any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask. There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Bobal said, pointing to it.

  “Thank you. I look forward to meeting Mr. Newton, your partner.”

  “This week, he’s in our New York office. Maybe next week,” said Bobal as he walked toward his office.

  My gaze followed him. As he opened his door, I saw the closed door of Newton’s office with the "No entry" sign next to his. Why? What was in there? What could possibly be so secret?

  I continued perusing the files. James walked in a little later, sat next to my desk, and began explaining the trading system and all other computer capabilities. I invited him to lunch, hoping I could continue my private conversation. I didn’t want to spend weeks in this gig, so I had to move fast. After lunch, I would begin my calls. For now, I would continue reading up on the clients. From what I could see, most were on a discretionary basis, meaning we could buy-sell without having to contact the client.

  At noon, we walked out on Lincoln Road and stopped at Books and Books for an outdoor lunch. The weather was ideal to enjoy the setting. Seventy-seven degrees, blue skies, and a mild breeze. The parade of people walking into restaurants and stores or just out for a walk kept the street busy.

  “You know, James, it feels a little strange sitting at Gene’s old desk. I mean, shit, the poor guy was run down. I can’t help but think about the accident,” I said, hoping he'd volunteer more information on his own.

  “I know, it was a fluke accident,” James replied.

  I tried to pick up any nonverbal signs, but none were evident. “But the way it happened, a hit-and-run, you know what I mean?” I shuddered as if the idea bothered me.

  “I’m sure the driver was intoxicated and didn’t stop because of that. It’s vehicular manslaughter if they catch him. Let’s order," he said, abruptly diverting the conversation. "We have work to do.”

  I accepted the change of topic. “How long have you worked here?”

  James relaxed slightly. “This is my fifth year.”

  “You like doing what you do?”

  “It’s stressful. But, at the same time very rewarding.”

  “From reviewing the files, the performance for the clients has been remarkable. Have you ever wondered how they predict the moves in the markets so well?”

  He looked around to see if anyone was listening. “At first I did. But then, I put my head down and just followed their trading orders. Our bonuses, based on the trading profits, are very generous. My suggestion, Art, is that you also follow their instructions, and don’t worry about how they do it.”

  If they made money, no one really wanted to know the how. With the amount of the bonuses, I could understand the indifference. It was very, very tempting to look the other way. “I’m sure I’m going to make some good money. But, have you ever considered if they’re doing something illegal? We're only putting orders in, but the fact that we're benefiting from the trades makes us part of any scheme that may be going on. If they go down, we go down. And, all the bonuses we got paid become illegal profits.”

  James didn’t answer, but I could see I was making him uncomfortable. Before the conversation could continue, our lunch came, and we waited for the waiter to serve our food.

  “What’d you think? There’s insider trading going on? Dude, don’t go down that road," he said gravely, shaking his head. "You’re asking too many questions. Just follow their lead, you’ll be fine.”

  “What worries me is that I did a little homework and found these guys have been under investigation by the SEC. Did you know that?”

  He looked up and around again. “We’ve all been interviewed by the SEC. They found nothing. Our momentum trading program works, and they proved it to the SEC. It just routine questioning.”

  I didn’t think I should continue the questioning and spook James. “That makes me feel better. Let’s head back, I want to start calling clients.”

  “About that,” he started as I handed the waiter cash to pay for our lunch. “When you call these clients, just introduced yourself, and don’t ask too many questions. Remember, for ninety-nine percent of our clients, we have the discretion to buy and sell, meaning we don’t have to call them before we trade their accounts.”

  We headed back to the office. I watched the eclectic crowd that frequented Lincoln Road. This was an ideal place to people watch and, in my case, to develop characters for my novels.

  Entering the office, I headed to my workstation, but not before noticing Bobal wave James over to his office. Shit, was this kid going to report on our conversation? Was Bobal suspicious of me in any way?

  10

  Joey Mancuso ~

  I was anxious to get the day started and question the suspects. I had moved my few things to the Easy Ryder after dropping Marcy at the Miami Airport. Jack’s end of the investigation wasn’t going to happen in one day, or even a week. He wasn’t going to waste time but going in with guns blazing could uncover the operation. That’s assuming something illegal was, in fact, taking place.

  As I sat at the stern, waiting for Detective Logan, I got a text from Agnes back in New York with a message to call her. Going down to the galley, I refreshed my cup of coffee and called Agnes. “Hi, Agnes, how’s it going?”

  “All good here. Hope you’re enjoying the weather.”

  “As a matter of fact, I am. Marcy is on her way back.”

  “Great, I’m sure she’s anxious to get back to work.”

  “Let’s get down to business,” I said, lighting up a Rocky Patel 1999 Vintage cigar. “Should I take notes?” I hoped she said no.

  “No. I’ll email my report as soon as we disconnect.” That was Agnes, always on the ball.

  “Excellent. Let me put on my earbuds. Hang on a second,” I said as I did. “Okay,
go.”

  “Let me start with the majority owner of the hedge fund, Mr. George Newton. Graduated from MIT in 1999 at the age of twenty-two. So, that makes him forty-two years old. He has a doctorate in computer science and a master’s in electrical engineering—”

  “And most likely a genius of some kind. Go on,” I said as Max jumped on the chair next to me.

  “Right. He became a Marshall Scholar upon finishing his undergraduate program. After receiving his Ph.D., he went to work for IBM, and worked on the development of a system called Piquant, the predecessor of Watson the robot. After ten years at IBM, he went to work for Goldman Sachs in their IT department. That was 2009. Five years later, he opened Fönix Securities and Financial Services in New York, but soon after that, they added an office in Miami Beach, when he met his partner, Jan Bobal. Newton owns forty percent of the company, and Bobal owns ten percent. There’s a private equity firm that owns the balance of fifty percent, more on them later. Newton owns a waterfront home in Star Island Two in Miami Beach. Estimated wealth is two billion dollars with no liabilities.”

  My eyes opened wide. Two billion? “Any social media exposure?” I asked, waking up Max, who had fallen asleep.

  “Only on Linkedin but limited to his profile. Not active, which, while I’m not a profiler, seems typical of his nature. Right? He’s probably reserved and a private type of person, like I would expect a scientist to be.”

  “I thought you said you’re not a profiler." Taking a sip of my now-cold coffee, I asked, “Is he married?”

  “For fifteen years to Yamamoto Sanae. Japanese. Upon marriage, she took her husband’s name, so she’s Sanae Newton.”

  “Not Yamamoto Newton?”

  Agnes chuckled lightly. “You’re forgetting that in Japan, your first name is your father’s surname, and your given name, as in Sanae, comes last.”

  “My mistake. Is Sanae on any social media?”

  “She’s a nature photographer and has her own website under Yamamoto Sanae, as well as a couple social media accounts. That’s pretty much all I have.”