by Owen Parr
“There’s definitely something in that safe box he was trying to steal,” Farnsworth observed, stating the obvious.
“I agree. But by the time they get a warrant, Mrs. Newton would have emptied it.” As I said that, I realized I had to make another immediate call. “Farns, let me get back to you. I have another call coming in."
I immediately dialed Logan.
“Nothing yet, Mancuso,” Logan answered.
“Listen to me," I said, speaking quickly, "if Mrs. Newton opens the safe and reads any content that incriminates anyone, especially the Drakos, she’ll become a target. Go over there and plead with her to turn the safe over to you guys at the MBPD.”
“Excellent point. I hope she hasn’t done it yet. I’ll roll over there now. Call you back,” Logan replied.
“If she did, you better post a couple of uniforms at her place, or she might become our next victim.” I sat back, extending and spreading my legs, while I gazed at the ceiling.
About twenty seconds later, I heard this cheering and whistling from Agnes, and Father Dom clapping. I went to see what all the fuss was about and was met with a tall redheaded gentleman. Manicured hands, precisely trimmed beard, eyebrows shaped to perfection. Central casting could not have done any better. Patrick Sullivan looked suave, wealthy, distinguished. He took a few bows, and I even clapped myself.
“Mr. Pat, you’re a new man. Too bad the acting role has been canceled,” Agnes said, smirking.
“Yeah, but now, he’s guaranteed to pick up a trophy lady,” I added. He really did look great.
“Right,” Patrick said, doing a little spin for us. “All I need is a Maserati and the bank account to go with it.”
“And some meds to help out,” I added as Father Dom began shaking his head.
It was a quick little moment of distraction and fun. But I still had my thoughts on Jack and Odette. However, as I blocked out the rest of the conversation between Agnes, Dom, and Patrick, I started formulating a new plan in my head. I hoped I was making a mistake, but I still felt some kind of ruse would motivate our killer to try again. I hesitated as I planned, but went ahead anyway.
I moved forward in my chair and knocked a few times on the table to get everyone’s attention. “Have a seat, Mr. Pat, let’s brainstorm an idea I have. But before you sit down, how about you grab a couple of Rocky Patels?”
Patrick disappeared and returned moments later with the requested cigars. After he turned on our smoke exhaust system in the office, he sat and handed me a cigar and a cutter.
“What’s the idea, Joey?” asked Dom, impatiently waiting for my cigar cutting and lighting ritual to end.
I took a few draws on the cigar to make sure it was well-lit, then exhaled a cloud of white-and-gray smoke. It rose and disappeared in seconds. “Our last two victims, namely Bobal and Newton, were killed either to protect the Drakos. Or, if personal, because they knew something that someone wanted to punish them for. Do you agree?”
Everyone replied in the affirmative as I looked around the table. “What if there was another person who had knowledge and involvement in the allegedly illicit operations of what Bobal and Newton were doing?”
“You’re talking about creating a new target for the killer?” Dom asked.
The gears were turning in my head. “Exactly. What if we crafted a story about it and got the local papers in New York and Miami to print it? You think our killer or killers would act on it?”
“Are you talking about making Mrs. Newton a target?” Dom asked, opening his hands.
I quickly waved away the idea. “No. No. Mrs. Newton could learn about what they were doing but wasn't part of the scheme. I want to cover both knowledge and involvement. This way, we may draw out the offender and we can grab him before they kill our fictional target.”
Patrick let out a puff of smoke. “That could work. But how do we get the story out?”
“Captain Johnson can help us with the Post and some local papers. There have been some stories on these two murders out already. And Detective Logan, I’m sure, could do the same in Miami.”
“Who would you make the target? We’re taking a chance with that person’s life,” asked Agnes.
I looked at Agnes and smiled. “No other than our new debonair metrosexual, Mr. Patrick Sullivan. Who else is better?” I said that smiling, but I immediately knew I was putting Patrick’s life at risk. Was my quest to find this killer worth risking my friends’ lives? How badly did I want this guy?
Everyone turned to look at Patrick, and his eyes widened.
“And what is your plan to safeguard the patsy?” asked Patrick with a concerned stare.
My phone rang, showing Jack Ryder’s smiling face on the screen. I stood and held my index finger out to Patrick, asking him to hold his thought. “Son of a bitch, where have you been?”
Jack's amused voice answered. “Hi, Mother, I hear you’re worried about me?”
I gritted my teeth. “You’ve had everyone worried. Are you and Odette safe?”
“Of course, man. Just another day in beautiful Miami Beach. We went fishing early this morning with another couple that has a boat in the marina. Caught eight dolphins, two of them bull dolphins, and two tunas. I’ll send pictures.”
Pictures? I didn’t care about fish pictures. “Did Logan tell you why we’re worried?”
“Yeah. But I don’t know shit. Why would they come after me?” He sounded unconcerned, and that just pissed me off.
“Because the person killing or whoever ordered the hits may not know that. They tried once before, right?”
“Okay. Makes sense. So, for a few days, I’m moving in with Logan and Odette at their place. Max is coming along with us. We’ll keep an eye on the Easy Ryder with that gadget called the Ring. I’m installing one on the piling that ties onto the boat. I’ll be able to see anyone approaching with my phone.”
My shoulders slumped. Until then, I hadn't realized how tight my muscles had been. “Great, Jack. I feel better now.”
“I’m touched about your concern. I didn’t know you were so emotional, Mancuso,” he teased.
“Look, you little SOB, I already saved your life once. I don’t want that work to be for naught. How inconsiderate of you,” I replied, knowing full well he was playing me.
“Okay, Mother. We’ll keep you posted. Odette says hello. Any updates on the case?”
“We’re in the middle of something. I’ll get back to you. Keep your eyes open,” I said and disconnected.
Son of a bitch, he had me scared and unable to concentrate. I was relieved to hear he was all right. Didn’t need another victim, especially Jack and Odette.
As I sat back, I asked, “You all heard?”
“We did,” Dom replied, “and that’s good news. In the meantime, we may have a plan for your little charade.”
That sounded promising. “Tell me about it.”
35
Joey Mancuso ~
“Agnes can create an identity for Mr. Pat and make him part of Fönix Securities,” Dom said.
I glanced at the man in question. “Okay. But are you fine with that, Mr. Pat?”
Patrick shrugged. “I have no problem. Let the padre finish the setup.”
I pointed to Dom to continue.
“Patrick Sullivan was a minority owner in the company, working directly for Newton and Bobal. He oversaw securing new extra wealthy clients. We just have to work it to sound like he knew the inner workings of the two partners,” Dom added.
“Huh, that sounds promising. Maybe Jack can write the release,” I added.
“Like you said, if the hired killer is eliminating witnesses, or if there’s another motive for killing Bobal and Newton, this should draw out whoever it is,” Dom said.
“Did you work out the details?” I asked.
“Mr. Pat is in the process of moving out of his old apartment in New Jersey to a new place,” Dom said, looking at Patrick.
"We can draw the killer to his old place and—�
�
I put my hand out to stop Dom. “Wait, wait. An apartment building has too many variables. More than one entrance, other tenants we can’t control their movements, etcetera. We need to minimize the risks, too many things can go wrong.”
“Joey is right,” said Patrick. “I have a better location. How about the empty office of Fönix Securities? It’s empty, right? One set of elevator banks and stairs. And, we can place those guarding me, hidden within the space.”
Agnes was shaking her head as we planned this trap.
“Agnes, you don’t like it?” I asked.
“Frankly, I don’t," she replied bluntly. "What if this guy decides to kill Mr. Pat at some other place? You know he’s surely to surveil Mr. Pat beforehand. Or, what if he walks in the office and just shoots him?”
I smiled. “Shit, then we catch him, right?” I paused for effect. Other than frowns, there were no comments. I went on. “No, really. The moment the press release is out, Mr. Pat gets a secret police escort. We limit his movements. Home to office and back only. Anytime he’s in the office, we’re there with him and NYPD. I’ll run it by Captain Johnson and make sure it flies with him, and he has the budget for extra security. We should be fine.”
“That sounds a little better,” Agnes added, “but what keeps this killer from taking a long-range shot at Mr. Pat?”
“That’s a concern. However, the last kills have been close and personal. Like I said before, I think this guy delivers a message before he pulls the trigger.” I really believed this killer’s actions were revenge. But I realized we were taking a huge risk with Patrick’s life. How else to bring this offender to justice? We were out of suspects, no clues, no nothing. We had to set a trap.
“So, we’re good?” Patrick asked.
I picked up my phone and stood. “I’ll call the captain first, then Jack and Logan."
“How do we deal with the office building?" Dom asked.
“I’ll have the captain take care of that. If all is approved, we just need to wait for the press release to be published and hope this guy reads the papers,” I replied and walked in the direction of the pub.
My new little off-Broadway play would only work if the killer was not associated with the two companies. Obviously, they knew who the parties were at Fönix and would not fall for this rouse. But if it did, it would confirm my suspicion that we had a different set of motives.
****
Two hours after I had explained the plan to the captain, he returned my call. It was approved, but the overtime for the officers would be limited to two days. After that, we were on our own. Additionally, Detectives Farnsworth and Charles would be with us in the office building for the first two days.
I had called Jack and Logan to apprise them of the plan. Jack would text me the press release for review, and Logan would work on the local Miami papers for immediate release.
Father Dom had returned to his parochial duties, and both Patrick and Agnes had gone home. I stayed, pacing between the now-empty office, the club, and the pub. I exchanged handshakes, fist pumps, and pleasantries with some of the patrons. Hopefully, I didn’t offend anyone with my aloofness, but I wasn't paying attention. I was focused on working out the details of this caper. We couldn't afford for anything to go wrong. First and foremost was safeguarding Patrick, then catching the killer once and for all. We had to catch this man, or he was going to vanish like a ship in a thick fog.
I decided to head home when Marcy called from her office to tell me that she was headed home and could pick me up. I was spent from the day and the planning. I needed a clear head to put those "gray cells to work," as Hercule Poirot would say.
On a normal day, it took Marcy about fifteen minutes to drive from 26 Federal Plaza to the pub. But in New York’s traffic, nothing was normal. So, after ten minutes, I decided to wait outside for her. As I made my way outside, a text came in from Jack. The draft of the press release, I hoped. Before I had a chance to open it, Marcy honked, and I jumped in her FBI-issued Lincoln Town car.
“So, how’s it going?” she asked, engaging her right shoulder in a forward movement as she stepped on the gas. A nervous tick she had that I adored.
“We may have a plan to draw out our unsub,” I replied, forgetting to open Jack’s text.
“How?” she asked, making a right turn on FDR.
“Are you taking the 478?”
“Yes, Sherlock. It’s a straight shot to our place.”
“Unless we get stuck on Wall Street and South,” I replied.
She turned her head to look at me with a faked nasty look. Then smiling, she said, “When I drive, you sit. When you drive—”
I didn’t let her finish. “You direct.”
"Okay, okay,” she said with a chuckle. “Tell me the plan.”
I went on to explain what we had in mind and that we could brainstorm the how maybe over dinner.
“Did you get the press release from Jack?” she asked, entering the Battery Park Underpass.
“Oh, shit, I forgot. I should have it right here,” I said, pulling out my phone from my pants pocket.
Touching the message app, I began reading Jack’s text. Joey, there’s been a second attempt at a robbery at Mrs. Newton's home. Two unidentified white males. Robbery thwarted by officers on the scene. Suspects at large. Currently MBPD chasing car. Call u in a few.
“Oh, my God. Another attempted robbery at the Newtons' home,” I said. Those documents in the safe definitely had the goods we needed to turn this thing into a major crime.
Right shoulder engaged, Marcy said, “You’re kidding. I want whatever is in that safe. They didn’t take it, did they?”
“No, no. They failed. But you’re right, something in there is of value to someone. Maybe Mr. Newton was keeping records of the illicit activities of Fönix Securities and they need to clean that up.”
“If so, that could blow this case wide open and the FBI can get involved. Man, I would love to see the faces of the suits keeping us from getting involved.”
“I may have to reassess my thoughts on the last two murders.”
“I think so. Your theory of the lone gunman acting on his own may be falling apart.”
I thought for a second, then shook my head. Maybe we were working two cases in one. Maybe all the murders weren't a consequence of just the documents. But what? “Maybe. But I’m not convinced these two events are connected.”
Traffic came to a halt on the 478. Marcy looked over at me. “Seriously, Joey? The motive is staring you in the face. They were cleaning house by removing anyone that could expose their crimes.”
“Yes, but why kill Newton if they knew, or thought, he had papers that would incriminate them? Why not force him to give up the proof, then kill him?”
Marcy went quiet for a moment, I assumed giving that some thought. “You may have a point. Maybe they found out about the papers afterward. I mean, it’s just too much of a coincidence for their murders not to be connected to the robbery attempts, right?”
I was in a pensive zone. Thinking back at all that had happened and how everything seemed to be well-thought-out. Maybe these people weren’t as smart as I made them out to be. But who told them about any incriminating documents after the fact? Shit, all the main players were dead. Had Mr. Newton confided in Lance Friedman, chief of staff for Senator Shenbeck, the day they met? The same day Bobal was murdered and a day before his own demise? Was Friedman the source of the attempted robbery of the documents?
“Are you still here?” Marcy asked, weaving in and out of lanes of traffic.
I blinked. “What? Yeah, I’m still here. Just thinking, that’s all.”
“About me being right, or you being wrong?”
I turned to face her with a smile. “Once a ballbuster, always a ballbuster. But yes, you may have a point, my dear.”
She let her right hand off the wheel and patted me on the leg. “Now, for that, you’ll get rewarded tonight, dear.”
“How far along can we
… I mean, you’re five months pregnant," I said, grabbing her hand.
“That’s no problem. Besides, there’s other things we can do,” she replied with a mischievous look on her face.
“Hey, I’m all in.”
“Not so fast, Mancuso. Not so fast.”
36
Joey Mancuso ~
I had a choice when we finally got home. Ask for my reward, call Jack, or work on the plan. I opted for choice one, and I was rewarded not once but twice. Life was good, and I was now relaxed and in a much better mood to continue with my plans.
I sat on our balcony with a single malt, neat, expecting to take a shower next, while Marcy prepared dinner. My phone rang. “What the hell is going on, Jack?” I asked, finally getting a call back.
“Shit, Mancuso, MBPD lost these guys once they crossed Julia Tuttle Causeway. They just merged into crazy traffic and evaporated.”
“So, I assume the safe is now in MBPD possession?”
“Totally. And getting the warrant to open it is being expedited. We need to see what’s in there.”
“Were you and Logan involved in the pursuit?”
“No, we found out too late. We stayed at the home of Mrs. Sanae Newton. She’s worried. These guys came in by boat from behind the home. They knew we had uniforms in the front. But she set off the alarm in the home when she heard them from her upstairs bedroom.”
“She has to be terrified,” I commented.
Jack laughed a little, and there was admiration in his voice when he spoke. “She was ready to blast them. She had six rounds ready on a Mossberg Shockwave short-barrel shotgun. She’s a badass, man.”
“Total opposite of her husband. Good for her.”
“Yeah, somebody must wear the pants, right? Anyway, I’ll have your release later.”
“Too late now to get it in tomorrow’s newspaper editions. Which will give us more time to plan. We’re good.”
“I’ll let you know the moment they open the safe.”