A Murder on Long Island: A Joey Mancuso Father O'Brian Crime Mystery (A Joey Mancuso, Father O'Brian Crime Mystery Book 2)

by Owen Parr

  “Did you also attend college together?”

  “We did. We were roommates at Yale.”

  “Have you remained friends all this time?”

  “Almost forty years, yes, we have,” replied Adams, limiting his response to the question at hand.

  “So, in forty years of friendship, have you ever seen Mr. Longworth lose his temper, enough, to perhaps attack someone in a violent manner?”

  “Objection, your honor,” snapped Mr. Brian Morris, the prosecutor. “Mr. Adams is not a psychologist, and unqualified to reply to that question.”

  The judge replied, “Overruled, I’ll allow the witness to respond,” he said, motioning with his left hand to Adams to answer.

  “Mr. Longworth, in the forty years I have known him, has never lost his temper in such a fashion. He is incapable of killing a fly,” replied Adams, glancing at the jury.

  “Have you ever seen Mr. Longworth in a fist fight, whether in high-school, college, or afterward?”

  “Never.”

  “So, in your opinion, would you say he is a passive type person?”

  “He’s never been one to argue. He dislikes confrontation of any kind.”

  “Mr. Adams, what is your relationship with Mr. Longworth at this time?”

  “My law firm is under retainer to Mr. Longworth’s real estate company. We represent him on various issues, mostly related to his business.”

  “Is it true that your families socialize, that is the Longworths and yours?”

  “We do,” he paused, “did, all the time. Our children attended the same schools until they went to college.”

  “Did Mr. and Mrs. Longworth ever argue in front of you?”

  “I would not call it arguing. All couples disagree on things, at some point. But, no, no arguments.”

  “Was there any reason, in your opinion, why Mr. Longworth would want to kill his wife?”

  The prosecutor snarled, “Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Adams could not possibly know the answer to that with any certainty.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Wesley replied. “Next question, Mrs. Goldstein.

  “Did you know that Mr. Longworth suspected Mrs. Longworth was having an affair?”

  Adams shifted his position on the stand and glanced down at his feet. “He wasn’t sure. He felt perhaps she was.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He asked if I knew an investigator who could check into that.”

  “And did you?”

  “We recommended one, who has already testified in this case.”

  “A Mr. William Williams, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And from Mr. Williams’ testimony, he had no proof of an affair, is that right?”

  “Mr. Williams was only on the case one day before,” he paused, “before Mrs. Longworth was murdered.”

  “Mr. Adams, did you know if Mrs. Longworth was having an affair?”

  “Why would I know that?”

  “Answer the question please.”

  Adams hesitated, and looked a bit exasperated.

  Mrs. Goldstein asked, “Would you like me to repeat the question?”

  “I was not sure, myself,” Adams replied.

  “You were not sure, yourself. I see. How well did you know Mrs. Longworth?”

  Adams had been looking down, he raised his head and glanced at Mr. Longworth. “We were friends from high school also.”

  “Good friends?”

  “Yes, the three of us grew up together.”

  “The three of you, being Sheila, Harold and yourself.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you date Sheila when you were in high-school?”

  “We went out a few times before she became Harold’s girlfriend.”

  Inez handed Mrs. Goldstein some documents. “Your Honor, I would like this to be marked defense exhibits number two.” Ruth handed the clerk one for the judge, and walked over to the prosecutor’s table and gave Mr. Morris one. “May I approach the witness?”

  The judge replied, “You may.”

  “Mr. Adams, this is a copy of your high school yearbook, in which a photograph of you and Sheila is captioned ‘love forever.’ Is that you and Sheila Sanders?”

  “Yes,” he replied, handing the photo back to Ruth.

  Ruth flashed the yearbook photo to the jury. “Were you and Sheila Longworth in love?”

  “That’s very cute of you to ask, using her married name,” responded Adams, with a snort.

  Ruth looked at the judge, “Your Honor, I would like to classify this witness as a hostile witness.”

  Judge Wesley replied, “Very well.”

  Mr. Adams, would you answer my question? Were the two of you in love?”

  “In high-school, we may have been.”

  “You may have been? You’re either in love or you’re not?”

  “I don’t know if someone in high-school knows if they’re in love. We dated and went out together.”

  “Let me ask you, were the two of you sexually active?”

  The jury looked at Adams, then almost in unison glanced over to Mr. Longworth.

  Adams sat back in his chair and covered his mouth with his right hand.

  “You are under oath, Mr. Adams,” Ruth added.

  Adams sighed and replied, “Yes, we were.”

  The jury and gallery let out a collective, “Ah.”

  “At the time of her death, were you having an affair with Mrs. Longworth?”

  “Absolutely not,” he snarled.

  “Mr. Adams,” Ruth began, as Inez handed her a white envelope, “If I were to show you photos of Mrs. Longworth and yourself, having drinks and dinner at various New York restaurants,” Ruth put her hand in the envelope, “would you change your answer?”

  “No, I would not. We occasionally would meet for drinks and dinner. That proves nothing.”

  “Were you representing Mrs. Longworth in any legal matters?”

  “No, I was not.”

  “How about the Longworth Foundation?”

  “I was not involved with that.”

  “Where were you the night Mrs. Longworth was murdered?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “I was home, I think.”

  “Alone? Or, was Mrs. Adams with you?”

  “I was alone. My wife was out with friends.”

  “Oh, so, you do remember. What about your kids?”

  “They were in Colorado skiing.”

  “So, you, a married man, occasionally had a private dinner with a married woman, with whom you had had a romantic and sexual relationship, in the past?” Ruth asked, glancing at the jury. “Is it possible, Mr. Adams, that Sheila Longworth wanted to divorce her husband to be with you, and you refused to be embarrassed that way. Therefore, you killed her?”

  Adams struck the wooden railing in front of him, glowering he exclaimed, “No!”, and sat back, lowering his head once again.

  The prosecutor jumped from his chair, “Objection Your Honor, who is on trial here, Mr. Longworth, or the witness?”

  Before the judge had a chance to rule, Mrs. Goldstein quipped, “Perhaps Mr. Adams should be.”

  The gallery laughed.

  The judge slammed the gavel, “Mrs. Goldstein, I’ll have none of that. Overruled on the objection. Proceed with caution."

  “Mr. Adams, your prints were found in the master bedroom of the Longworth home. Can you explain that?”

  Adams appeared dazed, “Excuse me?”

  “Why are your prints in the master bedroom? What could you possibly be doing there?”

  “You can ask Mr. Longworth, he and I sometimes discussed business in the sitting area of the bedroom,” Adams said, pointing at Longworth.

  Ruth asked the next question looking directly at the jurors, “That’s a bit odd isn’t? Such a big home with a library, living room, et cetera, for you to meet with a client in their bedroom.”

  “Ask Harold, he�
�ll tell you.”

  “Mr. Longworth is not sitting on the stand. You are, sir. What I think happened, Mr. Adams, is that you and Sheila Longworth, in fact, were in love forever, and had been for all these years, or perhaps recently, rekindled your romantic interludes. You were with her in the master bedroom, when you realized Mr. Longworth was on his way home. You fought because she wanted to be with you, and in a moment of desperation, —”

  “Your Honor, I object, is there a question here?” Morris asked, in disgust.

  “Mrs. Goldstein, question?” the judge asked, opening up his arms.

  Ruth nodded and turned to Adams, “Did you kill her?”

  “That’s preposterous, no, I loved her,” Adams replied, as his body went limp.

  A collective, “oh” and “ah”, went around the courtroom.

  The judge slammed the gavel again.

  “I have no more questions for this witness, Your Honor.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The prosecution was caught off-guard with the questioning of this witness, and they passed on cross-examining, retaining their rights to do so, at a later time.

  The judge excused the witness and asked, “Mrs. Goldstein, are you ready for your next witness?”

  “We are, Your Honor.”

  “Very well, please call your next witness.”

  Inez Hartman, second chair to Goldstein, at max, thirty-three years old, with long blonde hair all the way to her waist, luminous green eyes, and a smile that was disarming, got up from her chair and said, “Your Honor, we call Mrs. Jessica Jones Adams to the stand.” The jury hung on her every word.

  Jessica was sworn in and she sat down.

  Mr. Longworth turned to Ruth Goldstein and asked, “What are you people doing?”

  Keeping her eyes on the stand, Ruth replied, “Keeping you out of jail, sir.”

  Longworth asked, “At what cost?”

  Ruth turned to face Longworth, “Former Governor Pataki put a moratorium on the death sentence by lethal injection in nineteen-ninety-five. You are facing life in prison for the murder of your wife. That’s the cost to you.”

  Longworth swallowed and sat back in his chair, facing forward.

  Inez began, “Mrs. Adams, you are the wife of Marshall Adams, who just testified, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “How well did you know Mrs. Longworth?”

  Mrs. Adams pushed her hair back with her right hand, “Apparently, not well enough.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Inez glanced at the jurors and smiled. Some of the male jurors smiled back at her.

  The judge said, “Mrs. Adams, be more specific, and answer the question.”

  Mrs. Adams added, “We’ve known each other since I married Marshall. They were,” she paused, “they were friends, all three of them.”

  “You mean Mr. and Mrs. Longworth, and your husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you involved with Mrs. Longworth, in any way?”

  She thought for a moment, “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, I noticed you were on the board of the Longworth Foundation, is that correct?”

  “Ah, that, yes, I have been for some years?”

  “Why? Is there another type of involvement between the two of you?”

  “I don’t understand the question?”

  The prosecutor was not happy. “Your Honor, where is the defense going with these questions?”

  The judge asked, moving forward in his chair, “Ms. Hartman?”

  “Your Honor, we have a man accused of killing his wife. I beg your indulgence for a moment longer.”

  The judge, sat back, “Proceed, but get to the point.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Turning to the stand, Inez asked, “Mrs. Adams, your husband testified that he was alone at home the night Mrs. Longworth was murdered. And that you were out with friends. Were you still out between ten to midnight, that night?”

  “I don’t remember. I could have been driving home at that time.”

  “So, basically, you have no alibi as to your whereabouts at the approximate time Sheila was murdered, right?”

  “I don’t know what time she was killed.”

  “We have testimony from the medical examiner that the time of death was between ten that evening, and midnight. Let me go on. Mrs. Adams, you are involved with some LGBTQ groups, is, that right?”

  “Is that a crime?” Jessica retorted.

  “No, not at all. But, you are involved?”

  “Yes, so what?”

  “Mrs. Longworth was also, correct?”

  “The Longworth Foundation donated to these groups, and to many others.”

  “Did you travel with Mrs. Longworth on Foundation business?”

  “On occasion, I did, yes.”

  “Did you share a room?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Jessica asked, squinting.

  “Did you and Mrs. Longworth have a romantic relationship?”

  “Listen, you skinny bitch, what two consenting adults do, in the privacy of their bedrooms, is not anyone’s business.”

  The judge jumped in, “Mrs. Adams, please refrain from using that language in my court. Any other questions, Ms. Hartman?”

  “Before I proceed, Your Honor, I would like this witness to also be classified as a hostile witness.”

  Wesley nodded, “Very well. Proceed.”

  “One last one, Your Honor. Mrs. Adams, you seem prone to outbursts of temper. Is it possible you were with Mrs. Longworth that night, and when you found out that Mrs. Longworth wanted a divorce from her husband, but did not want to continue a relationship with you, you shot her with her gun?”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” cried the prosecutor.

  “Sustained. Ms. Hartman, I’m losing my patience. Any other questions?” Asked Wesley.

  Inez replied, “I have,” she paused, “Actually, I have one more question.” Ms. Hartman turned to face the jury. “Your husband admitted to still being in love with Mrs. Longworth. Is that why you killed her?”

  “No, you bitch! I didn’t kill anyone.”

  The courtroom broke out in murmurs and conversation.

  “Enough,” Wesley said, loudly. “Any other questions, Ms. Hartman?”

  “No, Your Honor. I have nothing further for this witness.”

  Judge Wesley asked, “Mr. Morris, does the prosecution want to cross at this time?”

  Brian Morris glanced at his watch, realizing that they were about to adjourn for lunch, he opted to question the witness. He didn’t want the jury to leave with the impression Mrs. Adams had anything to do with the murder. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Proceed,” added Wesley.

  “Mrs. Adams, did you know your husband dated Mrs. Longworth while in high school?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did that make you uncomfortable in socializing with the Longworth all these years?”

  “No, it did not.”

  “So, the four of you got along well?”

  “Very well. We’ve been friends, and neighbors for many years. Our children are friends. We had a good relationship between our two families.”

  Morris looked down at his notes, “Does it bother you to find out that your husband was having dinners with Mrs. Longworth?”

  “Marshall, my husband, has a kind heart,” Jessica replied, as she pursed her lips and clenched her fists. “He enjoys mentoring people, and offering advice. That’s why he likes his profession so much.”

  “I see.” Morris wanted to ask the next question, but was unsure of the answer. He took a chance, and went ahead anyway. “So, you were not jealous of the relationship Mrs. Longworth and your husband had in high school?”

  Jessica smiled, “Of course not. This was what? Forty years ago? Like I said, we were all good friends.”

  Morris had one more question before court was adjourned for lunch. “Would you say that the four of you, the Longworths and the Adams w
ere best friends?”

  “Yes, have been for many years. This has been very traumatic for both our families.”

  The prosecutor said, “We have no further questions of the witness, Your Honor.”

  “Ms. Hartman, redirect?”

  “No, Your Honor, thank you.”

  Brian Morris the prosecutor asked, “if the defense has no objections, would like to recall Mr. Marshall Adams to the witness stand, at this time.”

  “Mrs. Goldstein?” Wesley asked.

  “No objections, You Honor.”

  Jessica Adams left, as Mr. Adams took the stand.

  Wesley said, “I’ll remind the witness that you are still under oath.”

  Adams nodded as he glanced at the judge. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Adams,” Morris, the prosecutor, began, “your last statement under oath was; ‘I love her.’ Care to explain?”

  “Yes, and thank you for the opportunity,” Adams said, crossing his legs, fixing the crease in his pants, and turning to the jury, “Sheila Sanders and I did have a relationship when we were both single. We met in high-school. There was a time when we both were in love with each other. But, that ended before we each got married.”

  “Mr. Adams, but you said, ‘I love her.’”

  Turning to face the jury again, he replied, “And I did, but no longer in a physical way. We stayed friends, and I was happy she married Harold, also a good friend.”

  “Then tell me, sir, why did you meet with Mrs. Longworth for dinner on occasion?”

  “Over the years, Mrs. Longworth and I had a friendly relationship. She looked to me for advice and counsel, not in a legal aspect, but, with her personal life. Our relationship developed into a brother and sister type.”

  “Did Mrs. Longworth tell you she wanted a divorce from Mr. Longworth?”

  ‘She did, and I asked her to work it out with him. I told her all marriages hit potholes at times, and that Harold was a good man, and that he loved her.”

  “Did she say to you, that she was having an affair?”

  “She never told me she was, and I don’t believe she was.”

  Goldstein said, “Objection Your Honor, calls for speculation on the witness’s part.”

  “Sustained,” Wesley retorted, “the jury will disregard the witness’s belief. Mr. Adams, you know better than that.”

  Adams replied, “Yes, Your Honor.”