by Owen Parr
“No, no, thank you. I’m fine. Take your time. I’m a little early.”
“Make yourself at home. Be right back,” she said, walking to her bedroom. Father Dominic saw a nicely decorated apartment. Country French décor, parquet floors with colorful area rugs throughout. The view of Central Park was magnificent.
“Here we go, thank you for waiting,” Melody said, sitting across from Dom. It had taken her less than two minutes to put on a pink one-piece terry coverall that was no better than the bath towel she had been wearing. Her oversized breasts pointed directly at Father Dom. Her hair was still wet and dripped slightly on her shoulders. “Now, Father, what can I do for you?”
“Yes,” he began, again trying to avoid focusing on her breasts. But he couldn’t help thinking back to his dad, always referring to his granddad’s 1954 Cadillac Eldorado’s front bumper as those ‘big steel tits.’ “We’re trying to tie up some loose ends, and I just have a few more questions.”
“Shoot,” she said. “I understand that you may have been the last one to see Mr. Parker, before,” he paused, “before the untimely event.”
“I don’t think so. The last time I saw Jonathan was at the bar, at your bar, the evening before. So, I’m sure someone saw him the next day, right?”
“But I heard you visited him the next morning at his office?”
“Oh, yes, I did go to his office, but he wasn’t there. I forgot about that.”
“Were you told that at the reception desk?” “No, they told me to go back to his office, but he wasn’t there. I waited for a few minutes, then left. Why?” “He wasn’t at his office?”
“No, like I said, he wasn’t in his office. I waited, then left.”
“Why did you go?” “After we left your bar, we came here, but he dropped me off. Then he called me from the car and told me the trip was off. He gave me no explanation, and here I was, all packed and ready to go.”
“Go on.” “So, the next morning I tried calling him, but I couldn’t get him on the office phone or his cell phone. So, I went to see him. I wanted to know what happened. Was the trip off, or was he breaking up with me?”
“Why would you think he was breaking up with you?” “When we left the bar, he was ecstatically happy, and we normally come back here for, like, a romantic time. You understand?”
“Yes, I do. What happened?” “He got a call from the bi—, I mean, his wife. They fought like usual, and then he dropped me off and drove away, didn’t even kiss me.”
“Right. So, you thought obviously, something happened and were worried.” “My goodness, he’s not going to drop me like a hot potato like that. I wanted an explanation. We were supposed to get engaged, after all. I mean, I was upset, Father. Wouldn’t you be?” she asked, sitting up and pulling the top of her coverall up.
“I suppose I would be, yes. Was the window of his office opened when you walked in his office?” “Oh, my God, do you think…” her voice trailed off. She covered her mouth. “Had he already jumped? Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know; it was right around that time. Did you see anyone else at the office?” “Just the receptionist, Carla. She is so nice to me.” “No one saw you at his office?”
“No, no one, I guess. Oh wait, they didn’t see me, but Evans and another man were walking like out of his office when I was approaching Jonathan’s office.”
“Could they have been in his office?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“Was anything out of order in Mr. Parker’s office?”
“I have to think. I try not to pay attention, because he has pictures of her on his desk. It bothers me to see those, you know?”
“Can you think of anything else about his office?” She thought for a second.
“No, Father, I can’t.”
“No problem. Joey says Mr. Evans called you once about a possible off-Broadway producer?”
“What a sweetheart your brother is. He’s not married, is he?”
“Oh, no. I think he’s spoken for, though.” “That’s different than being hitched. I’m not doing that again.”
“That’s good, yes.” “Married men have a lot of baggage, you know? All promises, like politicians, all talk and no delivery. They just want you for the moment. Then, poof, back they go to the reason they came to me in the first place. No more.”
“Life teaches us lessons in many ways. Allow me to ask a couple of more things. Tell me about Mr. Evans.” “He called again, wanted to meet me for dinner and discuss my acting and modeling background so he can tell his friend the producer.”
“Are you meeting with him soon?” “We’re supposed to talk today. He wanted to have a quiet dinner here in my apartment and take our time going over my bona fides.”
“He said that?”
“I don’t even know what that is. Do you?”
“Your credentials as an actress, I suppose. Are you planning on meeting with him?”
“I have nothing to lose, and I do want to pursue an acting career.”
“Have you ever met Mr. Albert, the other senior partner?”
Melody moved uncomfortably in her seat and stared up at the ceiling before answering. “No, I have not.” “Have you ever been to their offices before?” “Just once. One evening. But Jonathan was the only one there.”
“Did Jonathan talk to you about his work?” “He was stressed out about that. He always said I was his respite from work. Never knew what that meant either, but I guess I made him happy.”
“‘Respite’ means ‘relief from’ or ‘to take a break from something.’” “Oh, now I know.”
“So, he was stressed?”
“They put a lot of pressure on him. Money, money, money, you know? He kept saying that he had to bring in a lot of money and new clients. That’s why he was so happy about the new client,” she said, as tears began forming in her eyes.
Father Dom got up. “Thank you so much for your time, I’m sorry—” He didn’t finish as she embraced him. “Thank you, Father, for listening,” Melody said, not letting go.
Dom pushed back. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Please, go ahead.” “I noticed a Waterford ashtray like that one,” he began, pointing at it, “At Mr. Parker’s office, and at his home. I’m curious about them.”
“I gave Jonathan three of them as a gift. He loved them, they are big and beautiful.”
“And you kept one here for his use?” “Oh no, he never smoked here,” she paused, and thought for a moment, “I took that one from his office the morning I was there.”
“You took it? Why?” Dom asked.
“If he was breaking up with me, I didn’t want my gifts there. You know?” “You said you gifted him three ashtrays?” “Exactly. He had already taken one to his home, which bothered me. The other two were in his office. One on his desk, the other on the conference table.”
“But you only brought one back?”
“That’s all I found. This one was on his desk, so I took it.”
“I see.” “Now, the ashtray is something to remember him by,” she said, tearing up. “Father, are Catholic priests allowed to date?” Melody asked.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she said.
“Be at peace, Ms. Wright. I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, turning and heading quickly to the front door. Dominic waited to reach the bottom floor before he placed a call to Joey.
“On my way back, Joey. Is Marcy there?” “Yeah, bro, see you then,” Joey replied, rather curtly.
“Don’t be such a hothead, Mancuso.” Marcy said, “This murder mystery needs a resolution.”
I thought for a minute there that this was over. I hate it when people go dead and no one is blamed. Admittedly, this could go either way, suicide or murder. My gut was telling me this was a murder—make those two possible murders and at least five suspects.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I was anxiously waiting for my brother to re
turn to the tavern with his reports on the interviews of the ladies, Mrs. Adelle Parker and Melody Wright, or “Melody de Amour.” Besides a moment of passion, Marcy and I had covered much of what she did at the offices of Evans and Albert. Knowing my anal brother, we’d have to review her findings with him.
“Marcy, I’m going to buy some sandwiches next door. What can I get you?”
“How about a heated ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese on a Kaiser roll?”
“That sounds good. I’ll get three of those. I’m sure Dom would like that.” It was convenient having a deli next door. Many of our patrons would bring in their sandwiches and enjoy an adult beverage and a cigar at our place. We enjoyed not having to deal with food service, so we kept our offerings to liquor and cigars. The owner of Dino’s Deli next door couldn’t be happier with the synergy we formed between the two establishments.
Entering the bar with the sandwiches, I found Marcy and Dom putting together two four-tops for our use in the back of the bar.
“So, what do you have for us, brother?” I said, sitting down and passing the food around.
“Thank you,” Dom said, as I handed him his sandwich. “What did you get me?”
“A Marcy special: ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese.”
Making a face, brother Dom added, “It’s Friday, Joey.” “Yeah, and tomorrow is Saturday, so what?” “I don’t eat meat on Fridays.”
Marcy smiled at me. “Father, I thought one of the popes changed that rule some years ago.” “I continue to abstain from meat on Fridays. It’s a form of sacrifice. It gives me great satisfaction to do these things.” Dom replied.
“Why? That buys you more brownie points?” I challenged. “I know, you’re going to get a better seat assignment at the big theater in Heaven.”
“Mancuso, you are such a pagan. Father, how about I call and get you their triple cheese melt? It’s wonderful,” Marcy offered.
“Wow, they call that their la fusione di tre formaggi melt. I love it,” I added. “That’s fine. Let’s get down to work. The first thing I noticed at the Parker residence is that the Escalade sitting in the driveway doesn’t have any damage to it. There were a bunch of cars there, but Mrs. Parker confirmed it was her car.”
Retrieving the sandwich Dom didn’t want, I asked, “Why were there so many people there?”
“They’d just returned from a service held earlier for Mr. Parker.”
“Was Mrs. P. grieving?”
“She seemed sad and did shed some tears while I was there.”
With a mouthful of turkey, ham, and cheese, I asked, “What else did you find? Is her father back?”
“Why don’t you eat and let others who have manners speak?” Dom quipped.
I nodded for my brother, Mr. Manners, to continue. “No, her father isn’t back. Supposedly, he was returning today. I saw the red golf bag, the one with the white NIKE logo that I saw at Parker’s office.”
Marcy added, “Today, I noticed the bag wasn’t at his office. The partners did say that Mrs. Parker stopped by to pick up some things.”
Father Dom added, “However, she told me the office sent the golf bag to her home, together with a large Baccarat crystal trophy of some kind and another Waterford ashtray.”
Marcy asked, “Another Waterford?” Dom added, “She said she has two of the same ashtrays now; one she had at her home, the other came from Parker’s office.”
I said, “I did see the one when I visited her home.” Dom spoke, “There’s a third ashtray at Melody’s apartment.” Marcy inquired, “A third?”
“What’s up with these ashtrays?”
“They were gifts from Ms. Wright to Parker, or so she says,” Dom replied.
“But they left other personal items—didn’t you say that before?” I asked. “That’s right. Framed pictures of her and Mr. Parker were still on the credenza and desk. Other stuff, that seemed personal, was still there,” replied Marcy.
I asked, “So did she go to the office or not?” Marcy retorted “Everyone has a different story.” Father Dom became pensive.
“Go on, bro,” I said, receiving a nasty expression from him. “Fine, she did admit now to having been there with her father that day. And said she left together with her father. Also, she admits to a discussion, albeit heated, but no screaming fight between her father and husband.”
I thought for a second and added, “Okay, so she lied to me about having been there and seems to be lying about the fight, because someone heard a loud one.”
Marcy said, “A loud discussion to one person could be a loud fight to another.”
I quipped, “In Cuba, any discussion is loud, right?” Marcy snapped back, “And Italians aren’t loud, Mancuso?”
Pointing at Dom, I joked, “Father, when she’s mad and says ‘Mancuso,’ doesn’t it sound real sexy?” Father Dom shook his head. “You sure you guys aren’t married?” he smiled. “One other thing, one of the partners said she left the office before her father, which means her father was alone with Parker. That is, if we believe that side of the story.”
“So, what do we have on Mrs. Parker?” Marcy asked. “Being the trained homicide detective, I’ll list the main points,” I said, turning to Marcy.
Softly, she retorted, “You are so full of shit.” Dom, having heard that, added, “He is full of himself and that, too, Marcy. Go on, detective.” “So, let me address my fan club here,” I said, replying to these insults and motioning as if asking for a group hug. “Numero uno, Adelle Parker had motive and opportunity. Assuming she doesn’t know about Parker’s mistress, who would add another motive, she was worried about her trust fund and the lack of return thereof. A oneyear-old insurance policy for two million dollars was taken out at her request. However, the timing of the suicide, if a suicide, voids that policy because it wasn’t fully in force with respect to the suicide clause.”
Dom asked, “If she’s not going to collect, what’s her motive?” “One of the first things she told me was about the policy—how the insurance company was telling her Mr. Parker delayed the medical exam and that the policy wasn’t effective until he passed his physical. She said her understanding of the policy was different; she thought that it was already in effect when he died.”
Marcy said, “Then, if it was her, she miscalculated the timing and blew the chance to collect?” “Indeed,” I replied. “What’s interesting to note is that she knew the date she thought the policy would be inclusive for a suicide.”
Father Dom added, “She may have done herself in, if in fact she did it. No husband, no money.” I said, “There is a small half-a-million-dollar policy in effect, but that wouldn’t last her long. Something else: numero dos, if she’d waited for Parker to be a partner, he would’ve had a buy- sell agreement with the other two partners, and she would have collected a portion of the value of the company’s worth.”
Dom asked, “Did she know about that?” “I don’t think so. She knew about Parker becoming a partner, but I’m sure not about the policy. These two didn’t talk much about his work,” I replied.
Marcy had waited to ask, “With respect to opportunity, you’d have to think that, assuming she did it, she somehow pushed him out with her father watching or helping. Because he was in the office.”
“You are absolutely right, Doctor Watson. If she did it, her father is involved,” I responded.
Marcy asked, “What’s her father’s motive? We’ve established opportunity, but motive?” “Not having spoken to him,” I started, “he’s got about thirty-two million dollars tied up with these guys, and he’s stuck. His returns are down considerably, so it is feasible that, in a moment of rage, he threw his son-in-law out the fu—,” I corrected myself, “the window.”
Marcy added, “From what we know, he may have been a shrewd businessman, and if he figured out the partners had a Ponzi scheme going on, he would surmise that his money was totally gone, adios, nada.”
Father Dom was listening as his tre formaggi melt arrived. Opening the
bag, he added, “Now, that would be a strong motivator, his life’s work reduced to a claim in court and no income.”
I said, “A claim in court with little chance of recovery if there’s no money in the piggy.”
Marcy chimed in, “Again, if he did it, then his daughter, Adelle, is involved.” “Not necessarily. If she was out of the room, like she said first, her father could’ve done it alone,” I said, reaching for the other half of the tre formaggi melt Dom left sitting on the table.
He blocked my hand with his right arm. “Wow,” Dom said. “Great detective work, right?” I asked. “No, this sandwich is good. Touch that, and you’re a dead man, Mancuso,” Dominic said, looking at Marcy and laughing.
“Recapping,” Marcy commenced, “if she did it, her father helped. But if she left before, then she’s now covering for her father by saying she was there with him until they both left together.”
“That’s why they call it a mystery,” I added. Marcy couldn’t help but laugh. “Have you guys done a background check on Adelle and her father?”
“No, that’s next,” I said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN “Let’s talk about Ms. Melody. What’s her motivation, and did she have an opportunity?” I asked, putting all the garbage from lunch in one bag and throwing it over the bar. “Did she make a move on you, Father?”
Dom began coughing hard. “She actually wanted to know if you were single.”
“Did she, now?” Marcy said. “And what did you say?” I asked.
Touching elbows with Marcy, Dom replied, “That you were spoken for and not available.” “About her motive and opportunity,” I said, making an awkward escape. “According to what we know, Melody was the last one in Parker’s office. She admitted that much.”
Dom added, “She admitted that to me when I told her she’d been seen there, but she didn’t offer that confession when you spoke to her the first time. But, she also said Parker wasn’t in his office when she walked in.”
“Let’s put that aside for a moment. We have only her word for it that Parker wasn’t in his office,” I said. “Let’s find her motivation.”