What Ossberg had been prevented from telling Ichowitz is that Homeland had placed a second surveillance camera in the Nooris condo. This camera gave an entirely different view of the first floor of the unit – a view that provided a full account of the murder, including the identity of the murderer. Homeland’s contractor had removed all traces of the camera before Ichowitz could send any of the Philadelphia Police Department’s technical unit back for a second, more comprehensive search of the condo.
He placed the disc in the player and once again watched as the scene revealed the horrific images of Larson’s final moments. The silent video showed the victim’s passionate embrace of a male. As the two lovers moved towards the door, the camera revealed Mayor Gallo as Larson’s lover. Less than a minute later Larson is back in the shot moving towards the back of the unit. She approaches the door and after what must have been an exchange with whomever was outside Larson opens the door.
A visibly agitated Dorothy Wiggins enters. The soundless video shows images of what must surely have been a heated exchange between the two women. Wiggins reaches to embrace Larson who violently pushes her away. More words are exchanged and Larson appears to laugh at Wiggins. She turns away from Wiggins as if moving towards the front of the room. Wiggins looks around and grabs the andiron from the fire place. She strikes Larson repeatedly with the andiron. The blood spray from the back of Larson’s head splashes across the assailant’s face and body as she continues to beat the victim.
Wiggins drops the instrument of crime at her feet, looks down at the body and says something and turns and runs out the back door. The video shows the motionless body of the victim with the expanding pool of blood lying on the floor of the condo.
Ossberg removed the disc from the player and returned it to the safe. He wondered again what could possibly be so important to prevent the Federal Government from disclosing the identity of the young woman’s murderer.
EPILOGUE
When Shona Cohen got off the Bolt bus at 34th Street and 9th Avenue in mid-town Manhattan she immediately walked over to the James A Farley Post Office on 8th Avenue. As she climbed the stairs to the main entrance she read the famous inscription on the building’s colonnade: “Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” She made her way to the basement where the post office boxes were located and walked down the long corridor to Box 1674, checking to make sure no one was watching her. She accessed the box and removed its contents, discarding the accumulated junk mail and keeping only a single envelope addressed to No Risk LTD. She placed the envelope in her backpack and left the building.
She leisurely walked the six blocks and two avenues to Bryant Park at 40th Street and 6th Avenue again checking to make sure she had no tail. She purchased a falafel and bottle of water from the street vendor on the corner and sat on a bench that looked out onto 5th Avenue. After she finished her snack she removed the envelope from her back pack and opened it. The envelope contained a single sheet of bond paper on which the following appeared: “The thief, the detective and his lawyer, and the father.”
She smiled and tore the document and the envelope into pieces, threw the scraps of paper along with the wax paper in which her sandwich had been wrapped into the enclosed recyclable trash container and walked west on 40th Street towards 7th Avenue. She checked her wristwatch. If she hurried she could catch the next Amtrak from Penn Station back to Philadelphia. Perhaps everyone on the list was still there. She smiled thinking that, like the inscription over the entrance to the post office building, she could swiftly complete her appointed rounds.
THE END
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Neal Goldstein was born and raised in Philadelphia. He lives with his wife in Haverford, Pennsylvania. A graduate of Temple University and Temple University School of Law, he currently practices law in Philadelphia representing labor unions and employee benefit plans.
Murder and Mayhem in Manayunk Page 30