Murder and Mayhem in Manayunk

by Neal Goldstein

  “Well, could be some disgruntled associate of Sheikh Nazeur. Vito won’t divulge his client’s identity.”

  “Too bad,” Regan replied.

  “How are Kate and Liam?” Ichowitz asked.

  “Between Kate and my mother, they won’t leave the boy alone for a second,” he said and laughed. “So what do you think Shona and Flynn are up to?”

  “Beats me; I know Flynn’s not exactly a gentleman, but somehow I don’t figure him as involved in the Mall attack. Besides, since you saw him at the Barnes when the bombs went off…well you know that more or less eliminates him from direct involvement in that,” Ichowitz observed.

  “Yeah, unless it was all part of the plan he devised.”

  “True. I’m more concerned with Ms. Cohen. She well could be the mystery woman behind the murders of Vito Junior and Mickey Saunders.”

  Kate walked into the room as Jack was hanging up.

  “The boy’s finally asleep,” she said as she sat down on the sofa next to Regan.

  “He’s quite a young man,” Regan said as he put his arm around her shoulder.

  “Yes. He won’t take his compass watch off. He told your mother that he wants to be a lawyer, just like you when he grows up,” she said and kissed Regan.

  “Will you be comin up to bed now?”

  “I want to talk with my father. You need to get some rest, I’ll be up soon,” he said and kissed her.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Regan was gasping for breath as he struggled to get to the surface. He could see the light high above him. He felt the chill enter his body and knew that his death was imminent. He kicked with all of his remaining strength. He could make out the features of his killer. She was a beautiful woman. She smiled at him as she pushed his head under the surface one final time.

  “Jack, wake up,” his father gently patted his shoulder.

  It was only a dream. But it seemed so real. He looked around feeling disoriented. He must have fallen asleep in the living room.

  “Dad, what time is it?”

  “It’s 4 AM.”

  “Did you get anything from the Nooris brothers?”

  “Well, we did get a statement from Avi Nooris, but his brother and the other Mossad agent Rabinowitz are stonewalling,” the Commissioner yawned.

  “So?”

  “Avi said he didn’t know anything about the attack on the Mall. He was only involved in the Barnes heist. He thought the explosions were supposed to be a distraction. He swore that he had been assured no one would be hurt. He claimed the plan to steal the art was all Michael Flynn’s idea.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  The Commissioner yawned again and said, “I believe some of it. Restrum and the feds are going to analyze the video of his statement later this morning. They’ll probably interrogate him again. In the meantime, they’ll try to get Ari and the other agent to cooperate, but I doubt that either of them will break.”

  “How about the rich Saudi?” Jack asked.

  “He also claims he was only interested in the art. He had no knowledge of, or part in the attack.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  The Commissioner shook his head.

  Jack could see that his father was tired. “Dad, get some sleep. We’ll talk about this later.”

  So if Avi Nooris was telling the truth, Michael Flynn was the mastermind behind the Barnes robbery. Jack felt somewhat relieved to know that Flynn had not come all the way from Ireland just to try to convince Kate to return with Liam. He still felt that Flynn was someone to be concerned about, especially since the robbery turned out to be a bust. How did the robbery and the faux terrorist attack on the Mall fit in with the Coratelli and Saunders murders? Was any of this connected to Megan Larson’s murder?

  Jack would have to talk it out with Izzy. In the meantime he needed to make sure that Kate and Liam were safe.

  Shona Cohen assumed that something must have gone wrong when Ari Nooris failed to contact her at the prearranged time. The plan was for Shona to wait for final instructions from Ari before cleaning up the remaining loose ends and leaving the country. The Mall attack had been badly botched. It had never been intended to result in the carnage that had occurred. This was not the West Bank where collateral damage – dead Palestinians – could be easily dismissed as battlefield debris.

  Without contact from Nooris she would have to decide on her own whether to abandon the mission. Shona had been carefully trained in her craft. She was methodical and unemotionally analyzed the consequences to herself and the others of leaving the mission. She stared at her reflection in the mirror of the womens’ restroom at the 30th Street Station. She could take the next Amtrak to New York and make her way to the Canadian border and disappear, or take the regional rail or a bus to the safe house. She figured she could wait twenty-four hours before making her decision. Perhaps in that time she would find out what had happened to the rest of her team. The absence of any further word from Ari and no media report of arrests were a strong indication that Nooris had been taken into custody.

  The thought of Ari Nooris in custody was inconceivable. Ari had been her mentor for more than a decade. He found her in an orphanage in Jerusalem when she was twelve years old. Abandoned by her junkie mother in Moscow, she had been rescued by an Israeli relief organization and brought to Israel. For the first several months after she made “Aliyah,” she refused all efforts to integrate her into the culture of her new homeland. Only Ari Nooris was able to see what the psychologists and doctors at the orphanage failed to realize. Shona had been so badly abused as a child that she had been irreparably damaged. Ari showed her the way to channel her pain and extract her revenge. For this, she was forever in his debt.

  Her thoughts returned to the present. If Ari and the others had been arrested, how could the authorities have known that they were on the Saudis’ ship? There must have been a leak, but who, and why? Patience was the hallmark of spy craft; in time she would find out, and when she did she would deal with whoever was responsible in her very unique fashion. She would do it for Ari. She owed him that much.

  In the meantime she needed to remain free. Among her other talents, Shona was a master of disguise. She could dramatically alter her appearance from glamorous cover girl to old hag, with minimal use of cosmetics or other devices. From her years in the field she knew that her best move was to hide in plain sight. She would go back to Manayunk. If anyone was looking for her that was the last place they would think she would go.

  Jack spent the rest of the sleepless night trying to figure out if there was any way to tie the Larson murder to the Nooris-Flynn art heist/ Mall attack. In the madness and mayhem of the attack and the theft it seemed to him that the Larson murder investigation had been more or less abandoned. Even though he didn’t believe there was a direct connection between the crimes, he would ask his father if he could arrange to allow him and Ichowitz to interrogate Avi Nooris. Jack would also ask Izzy to try to get Ossberg to give them the unredacted copy of the security video of Nooris’ condo.

  After an hour and a half of consultation between the Philadelphia Police Department and representatives from the FBI and Homeland Security, Jack and Ichowitz were given access to Avi Nooris.

  Avi Nooris was lead into the room by two armed federal agents. He was handcuffed and his feet were shackled. Nooris had not tolerated his incarceration well. His skin was sallow and he appeared to have shrunk from the overly muscled physique of which he was so proud a mere thirty-six hours before. Nooris’ eyes constantly moved back and forth between Regan and Ichowitz.

  “Please remove the handcuffs and shackles from Mr. Norris,” Ichowitz asked the guards.

  When the restraints had been removed and Nooris was seated, Ichowitz addressed him.

  “Mr. Nooris, the federal authorities have allowed us to interview you about the three homicides we are investigating. Neither me nor District Attorney Regan believe that you were directly involved in the terrorist attack. However, we bo
th believe you know more about the homicides than you told the FBI. Mr. Nooris, as I see it, the only way for you to avoid being held under the federal anti-terrorist laws is if you cooperate with our investigation,” Ichowitz said.

  Nooris silently stared back at Ichowitz. A bead of perspiration from his forehead slowly worked its way down his cheek.

  “Mr. Nooris, do you understand what I just told you?”

  Nooris nodded.

  “Will you answer our questions?”

  He nodded again.

  “Alright then, District Attorney Regan will begin,” Ichowitz said and looked over at Jack.

  “Avi, before we get to the homicides tell me, how did you get the ten paintings from the Barnes to Nazeur’s yacht?”

  Nooris turned his gaze to Regan and smiled. “Flynn told me that if you ever found out that the art got to the Haij it would drive you crazy.”

  “He was right about that. So how did you?”

  Nooris shrugged and said, “It wasn’t a fucking magic trick. Shona showed up with a van, and we took the paintings Nazeur wanted to his boat.”

  “So you weren’t in the truck when Flynn took the rest of the art to the Tioga Marine terminal?”

  “I was out of there hours before that.”

  “Tell me something, why did Flynn take the eighteen-wheeler with art and then abandon it?”

  Nooris smiled again and said, “It was all to divert your attention from the ten paintings the Arab wanted.”

  “And did you deliver all of the paintings to the yacht?”

  Nooris nodded. Based on his response Regan assumed he had no knowledge that one of the paintings had been taken from the yacht.

  “And the attack … was that supposed to be a diversion too?” Regan continued his inquiry.

  Nooris nodded again, “Except for the fools who put on the vest no one else was supposed to get hurt; just a lot of noise.”

  “So what went wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” he said and sighed.

  Regan looked at Ichowitz and shook his head.

  “OK Avi, let’s talk about the murders. Who murdered Vito Coratelli?”

  Nooris stared at Regan and said nothing.

  “Avi, you need to tell us what you know and you need to tell us now.”

  Nooris told them that the murders of Coratelli and Saunders were part of his brother’s exit strategy. Both of the victims knew more than Nooris felt comfortable with leaving them in place when the Nooris left town. Coratelli was a junkie and a flake. Ari realized that Coratelli’s attempt to shake him down over the court house deal would never end. So he waited for the best opportunity to eliminate the problem.

  “So who killed him?”

  Nooris shook his head and sighed. “If I tell you they will kill me.”

  “If you don’t tell us the feds will send you to Gitmo. Your choice,” Regan replied.

  Nooris sat stone still and stared back at Regan. He shook his head and said, “Shona.”

  “The receptionist?”

  He nodded.

  “How did she know Coratelli was at the rehab?”

  “I don’t know; someone leaked the information. That’s all I know about that.”

  “How about Saunders?”

  “Shona.”

  “Why?”

  “Again, Saunders was unreliable.”

  “How do you know that Shona killed both of them?” Regan asked.

  “I was there when Ari told her to do it.”

  “Did Shona kill Megan Larson?”

  Nooris shook his head and said, “No. Why would she do that?”

  “Ari could have told her to,” Regan said.

  He made a face and waived dismissively and said, “No. Ari had no reason to have Megan Larson killed. Megan was no danger to Ari or anything Ari was doing.”

  “Where is Shona?”

  I don’t know, I swear to God I don’t know. I hope you find her before she finds me,” he replied.

  “OK,” Regan said.

  “What’s going to happen to me?” Nooris asked.

  Ichowitz shrugged his shoulders and said, “We need to review what you told us with the Commissioner. In the meantime, we’ll ask the guards to allow you to wash up and change into clean clothes. We’ll get back to you very soon.”

  After the guards had taken Nooris back to his cell, Ichowitz turned to Jack and asked, “So do you believe him?”

  Regan nodded and asked, “What’s our next move?”

  “We need to find Shona Cohen, and we need to find out who leaked Vito Junior’s location to Ari Nooris,” Ichowitz replied.

  “Izz, if Shona didn’t kill Megan Larson, we need to get that video of Nooris’ condo from your buddy Ossberg.”

  “There’s a Detective Ichowitz on Line One for you.”

  Ossberg was expecting the call. He figured Ichowitz would be looking for quid pro quo since the Philadelphia Police had generously allowed Homeland and the FBI to assume custody of the Nooris gang and Nazeur. He wouldn’t have blamed the locals if they had frozen them out in consideration of the hard time the feds had given them over the entire Mall security fiasco. The local police had done more to secure the area and apprehend the bad guys than the combined forces of the FBI, Homeland Security and the Secret Service.

  “Izzy, I was expecting your call,” he said.

  “Then I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you. Monroe, I think you know why I’m calling,” Ichowitz replied.

  “I’ll have the video delivered to you later this morning. Izz, it’s like I told you, it doesn’t reveal who killed Megan Larson.”

  FORTY-SIX

  Jack and Izzy met in the Fourth District conference room they had used for the murder investigations. The room looked just as it had when they left on July Third, before all hell had broken loose. The tumult of events, the terrorist attack at the Mall, Liam’s miraculous journey to safety, the Barnes robbery and the apprehension of some of the perpetrators of the crimes – so much had transpired since Jack had last been there. He took a quick inventory. The pictures of the victims and suspects were still pined to the wall, the murder book lay unopened on the table, empty coffee cups and sandwich wrappings overflowed from the trashcan; it was all just as they had left it. Despite the fact that so much had transpired in the seventy-two hours since they had last assembled there, including Avi Nooris’ statement implicating Shona Cohen as Coratelli and Saunders’ killer, Jack realized they still had no break in the Megan Larson case.

  The disc of the Nooris condo Ossberg had provided had turned out to be the dead end the federal agent had described. Regan and Ichowitz sat through an accelerated ninety minutes of the condo’s back wall with no shot of either the victim or her assailant. As Ichowitz removed the disc from the laptop he said, “Well, at least we know something for certain now that we didn’t know before.”

  Regan shook his head and asked, “What do we know?”

  “Boychik, think about it. Why would the feds invest their time and effort to install sophisticated surveillance equipment in Ari Nooris’ condo and yet have absolutely no evidence of the Mall attack or the Coratelli and Saunders murders?”

  “Because they’re a bunch of incompetent assholes,” Regan replied.

  “Too obvious; why would they stonewall us and stall before turning over this worthless video?”

  “Because they didn’t want us to realize they’re a bunch of incompetent assholes.”

  “Once again too obvious,”

  “So what am I missing?”

  “They’re hiding something from us,” Ichowitz said.

  “What?”

  “The identity of the killer.”

  Regan stared at his friend and asked, “Why would they do that?”

  “Because there’s something more important to them than Megan Larson’s murder,” Ichowitz said as he placed the worthless disc back in its case.

  “Izzy, what could possibly be more important than a murder?”

  “That I do not know
. But if we can figure that out we should be well on our way to cracking this case.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Let’s hope we can locate Shona Cohen.”

  “Uncle Mike, can ya give me a hand putting the produce in the cooler?” Kate asked as she struggled with the crate of lettuce.

  O’Malley picked up a carton of broccoli rabe and followed his niece into the walk-in box. As he placed the produce in its proper spot on the shelf he said, “You’ll never guess who dropped by the Grape last night.”

  “Was it the Queen or maybe His Holiness the Pope?” she gave him her stock response to the ‘never guess who’ questions he had frequently asked her when she was a child back in Ireland.

  “Nah,” he said with a shake of his head.

  She turned and smiled and asked, “Well now, don’t keep me in suspense any longer, who then?”

  “Michael Flynn.”

  The mere sound of his name instantly removed the smile from her face.

  “Before ya start, let me assure ya there’s nothin to be upset about. I mean I didn’t shoot him or anything like that, although I did keep him at gun point for most of the visit.”

  “So what did he want?”

  “He told me he wouldn’t be comin around again botherin you and the boy.”

  “And did ya believe him?”

  “That I did,” O’Malley replied.

  “Well Uncle Mike, Flynn’s a liar for sure, so why would ya believe anything he had to say?”

  “Well, he gave me something to hold for Liam that more or less made me think he was on the level.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “A Swiss bank account with 500,000 Euros.”

  Kate stared at her uncle and opened her mouth but found herself unable to utter the fresh retort she had planned to say.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

  She was still speechless.

  “Come, let’s get out of this cooler and discuss this over a cuppa tea,” O’Malley said leading his still speechless niece out of the walk-in box.

  They sat in a booth without speaking as they drank the rich tea Kate had brewed. “Uncle Mike, I won’t be taking any of Flynn’s money. God only knows how he amassed that fortune. I’m sure he came by it in some illegal manner.”