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

  Judge Wesley proceeded to give the jurors instructions as to the rules governing deliberations. Once completed, he said, “Court is adjourned until the jury comes back with a verdict.” The gavel came down once.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I sat there during both summations, and although one seat removed from Mr. L, I could feel his anxiety. The man had listened, first to the depiction of how he planned, and killed his wife, in cold blood. Then, through the awful description of his wife’s infidelities, and how, one of the other four suspects could have gunned her down, in his own bedroom. I felt awful for him. But, at the same time, I felt that enough reasonable doubt was planted by both Ruth, and Inez, to give the jury qualms about convicting him, and that gave me hope. Nonetheless, because of my sixteen years as a homicide detective with the NYPD, I knew that this was not a sure thing.

  Two outcomes were the only possible conclusion to this. A mistrial, which could be a third, I did not think, was in the cards. That only left us with guilty, or not guilty.

  If not guilty; I had the leisure of time to prove who I knew was the ‘unsub,’ or, the unknown subject, to the authorities. My number one rule as a murder investigator, has always been to bring to justice the killer, or killers, of an innocent person. I considered myself the last advocate for the murdered victim. Either I proved who the real killer was, or this could quickly become an unsolved cold-case. Why? Because the police and the prosecution had made their case on the wrong suspect; they had planted their flag, if you will. And now, every clue they had uncovered was proven wrong, every arrow they had flung had hit the wrong target. It was starting from scratch for them. If guilty; my final investigation in proving who the real killer was would have to be swift, and foolproof.

  Inez Hartman’s cold shoulder, for the last two days, had not gone unnoticed by me. My rejection of her aggressive advances a couple of nights ago had a chilling effect, on what I had hoped, would be a good, professional relationship. Especially if Dom and I decided to work with this law firm.

  We were all standing behind the defense table, and Mr. Longworth had been speaking to both Ruth and Inez, with his two children waiting in the gallery. As he bid his goodbyes to all three of us, I decided to make amends. Not that I felt guilty about anything, but for the benefit of the relationship.

  I approached both ladies. “You guys did great. Can I buy you a drink?”

  Inez ignored me. Ruth turned to me and said, “We couldn’t have done it without your investigation, and observations. Plus, your FBI contact was very helpful. I could use a drink,” she said. Glancing at Inez, she asked, “Inez, can you join us?”

  “No, you guys go ahead. I have another matter to attend to,” Inez replied, stuffing her files in her brown leather case.

  “Joey, where do you want to go?” Ruth asked.

  “I know a place a couple of blocks from here that’s quaint,” I replied, watching for any signs from Inez, who smiled, but remained quiet. “However, we should go back to my pub, drinks are free, plus Father Dominic is going to be there. We can share a car to Manhattan.”

  “That’s perfect. Inez, you should join us, and meet Father Dominic, Joey’s brother,” said Ruth.

  “I’m sure I’ll get to meet Father Dominic another time. I really can’t, but thanks anyway,” replied Inez, slinging her briefcase over her shoulder, and starting to walk out. “You guys enjoy.”

  I had a feeling about the deliberations, but I wanted to get a feel for how Ruth Goldstein felt about it. Walking out with her, I asked, “How long do you think it’s going to take for the jury to render their verdict?”

  “I’m hoping it’s not today. The quicker it is, the chances for an acquittal go down. I have a feeling it will be tomorrow, Friday. They probably want to wrap this up before the weekend. Don’t you agree?”

  “I do. I just hope the two or three, jurors you concentrated on, are dominant enough. They seemed to nod in agreement with you, sometimes.”

  “You mean, you hope they’re alphas, as opposed to betas?”

  “Exactly,” I replied. Alpha males, or females, are dominant. They take a position of leadership. Whereas betas, are followers, they do whatever they can to help the alphas get their way. All we needed was at least one of those jurors to be an alpha, and convinced of reasonable doubt. However, if they were betas, they would succumb to the alphas dominant stance on the matter.

  Being an alpha male myself, I had punched in on the app to get a car to pick us up in front of the courthouse, and take us to Captain O’Brian’s Pub and Cigar Bar. I was looking forward to sipping the warm, smooth tastes of a single malt Scotch Whiskey, with its vanilla, caramel, and sherry oak flavoring. Ruth Goldstein was an alpha female, she would have to be, being a criminal defense lawyer, right? I guessed her drink of choice was a vodka martini, with olives, or was it cocktail onions?

  Alfredo, as my app showed our driver’s name was, finally showed up in a black Ford Crown Victoria. All these cars smelled the same. I guess the drivers use the same spray in their cars. At least, Alfredo didn’t have a little green Christmas tree hanging from his rearview mirror.

  “So, how does Father Dominic feel about you joining forces with us?” Ruth asked after we got in the car.

  I raised my index finger, motioning to her to give me a minute. “Alfredo, do you know the quickest way?”

  Alfredo made eye contact via the rearview mirror, “Sir, I use the Waze app to follow directions, it’s usually pretty accurate as to the best route. Do you have a preference?”

  “No, that’s fine. At this time of day, I don’t think it makes much difference, anyway.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Alfredo added.

  “As to Father Dominic. Honestly? I thought he was going to have a big objection to it. We haven’t discussed it in any detail. Like I said, we wanted to finish with this case, then, take our time talking about it. But I’m glad you asked, cause I wanted to share with you a couple of things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Let’s assume we agree to work with your law firm. Is it imperative that we take that space in your building?”

  Ruth thought for a second, “Not imperative. We just thought it would be ideal to have you there. It’s a great space, in a prestigious building. Why? Is that an issue?”

  “We haven’t made a decision yet, but, the deli next to us is going up for sale. Dom and I are thinking of taking that space.”

  “You want to run your investigative services out of a deli?” Ruth asked, making a face.

  I laughed, “No, not out of a deli. If we took it, we thought we’d split the space for our detective services, and expand our cigar bar into a cigar club.”

  “So, you would still be running a detective service out of a bar, or cigar club? Is, that right?”

  “Does it matter to you guys where your investigators work from? You’re not going to tell me I have to wear a suit and a tie, are you?”

  “No, you don’t have to wear a suit and a tie, but, —”

  I interrupted Ruth. “You want the best investigations for your clients, right? Results are what matter. Besides, we’re in the background. I’ll save the suit and tie, for when we have to testify in court.”

  “I suppose our law firm would have no problems with that. We just thought that space would have been ideal for you.”

  “I’m sure it is. It is also three times the rent, if not more. Why waste that money on walls and carpeting?”

  “Okay. You said a couple of things. What else is on your mind?”

  “My old captain at the precinct wants us to consult on some of the homicide cases they get.”

  “I thought you were ‘persona non-grata’, at the NYPD?”

  “I did too. Evidently, solving three murders in one week last summer, changed all that.”

  “Wasn’t there an issue with the IAD?”

  “The Internal Affairs Division’s file will be examined by me, and the captain. He has the authority to do with it, what we want. Othe
rwise, I told him to forget it.”

  “Were you planning on keeping our two investigators, Larry, and Harry, in your new team? Otherwise, you, by yourself, are going to be pulled in too many different directions.”

  “Larry and Harry seem capable detectives. I think yes, I would keep them on staff.”

  “So, let me ask you. Is our law firm going to take priority over the NYPD cases?”

  “I can agree to that.”

  “Then, assuming you do this, it’s going to be you, Larry, and Harry? Is Father Dominic involved at all?

  “Dominic’s priority is his church duties. I can’t impose on him. He will help with anything, as a matter of fact, he will insist on doing it. He loves it. Right now, my research person, or computer geek, and white-hat, Agnes, works for an insurance company. I may want to bring her in full-time. Then, and this is a maybe, my girlfriend, Marcy, may be available to join us.”

  “Wait, sorry I haven’t asked. How is she doing?”

  “She went home today, and doing better.”

  “She’s FBI, why would she join you?”

  “Unfortunately, she may lose mobility in her right arm, as the result of the damage she received from the round that hit her in the shoulder. If that’s the case, she may have to give up field work, and she’s not too happy.”

  “Have you discussed this with her?”

  Alfredo interrupted, “Sorry to interrupt. We are approaching your destination.”

  Thank you,” Ruth said.

  I said, “Do me a favor. Don’t discuss any of this with my brother, at this time.”

  “No problem,” Ruth replied.

  “About Marcy. No, not in any specifics. She’s not in a condition to process this now. I will, though.” I said, hoping that I would have an opportunity to talk to Marcy about it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  We walked into the pub to a few ‘hellos’, handshakes, and nods from the regulars. I hadn’t been around for a few days, and I missed the pub’s atmosphere and energy. The aroma of the gin, Scotch, espressos, and the cigars gave the pub a unique scent. I felt at home here. Sinatra’s “Luck Be A Lady,” played in the background.

  “Busy place, you’ve got here, Joey,” Ruth mentioned.

  “We are in between shifts, at this time,” I replied.

  “What do you mean?” she inquired.

  “We call it that, because the Wall Street gang comes after the stock market closes. They tend to sit towards the back, and they like their premium drinks and cigars. “These folks,” I said, motioning with my hand, to the group sitting towards the front of the pub, “are our second shifters. Mostly police brass, and staff. One Police Plaza is just a few blocks away. They come in staggered, but a bit after the Wall Streeters.”

  “Does Police Commissioner O’Malley come in often?”

  “He’s been here a few times. But he feels like he kills the buzz. You can tell when he walks in, there is a sudden reduction of laughter and carrying on.”

  “I can imagine. So, he’s not good for business,” Ruth said, smiling.

  “You can say that. What can I get you?” I asked, as we walked towards the back. My guess had been vodka martini. Let’s see if I was correct.

  “Thank you. I’ll have a Maker’s Mark, neat. Do you happen to have the new one, ‘Forty-Six?”

  “You’re a bourbon lady? Never thought that. Huh!”

  “Kentucky was home. Gotta have the home brew. What did you think I drank?”

  “I had you pegged for a vodka martini person.”

  “It so happens, I enjoy those too, especially before dinner, with blue cheese stuffed olives. But, after work, I like to sip on that home brewed bourbon.”

  The Woody Allen Booth was empty. It’s a two-seater, as opposed to the rest of the booths. And most everyone knows this is Joey’s booth. We sat, and Mr. Pat came over.

  “Patrick, say hello to Mrs. Ruth Goldstein, she’s the attorney on the case we’re on.”

  Mr. Pat broke into his Irish brogue, “And a fine-looking lady she is. A pleasure to meet you, madam.”

  We ordered our drinks, and Pat handed me a sealed envelope that had been left for me, and walked back to get our drinks.

  “Aha, Larry and Harry came through.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve had them working on our four suspects, this must be their final report on the last two of the suspects.”

  “Just two?” Ruth questioned.

  “I already had two of the suspects, from their first investigation.”

  Just as I said that, brother Dominic O’Brian walked into the pub. He got the usual ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,’ from the raucous crowd. Dom enjoyed that, and made the sign of the cross to a few regulars, as he walked towards us.

  I went to get one of the captain’s chairs that surrounded the tables in the middle of the pub, while Dom reacquainted himself with Ruth. “Have a seat, brother,” I said, setting the chair by the booth, and retrieving the drinks from the bar, with an added Coke for the good father.

  Ruth raised her glass of bourbon, and said, “Cheers.”

  Both Dom and I followed suit.

  “How’s the case going?” Dom asked.

  Ruth sipped her drink, and replied, “We’re done. The jury is deliberating.”

  I chimed in, “These ladies did an excellent job. Now, we hope the verdict doesn’t come in too soon.”

  Dom inquired, “Tomorrow, you think?”

  Ruth said, “Hopefully, tomorrow late. Or, better yet, next week.”

  “How do you feel about it?” asked Dom.

  I replied, “We feel good. But it’s hard to read this jury. We just have to wait, and see.”

  “Father Dom, has Joey told you who the real killer is?” asked Ruth.

  “No. We haven’t spoken about it. Did he say anything to you?” replied Dom.

  “Not a word, no,” Ruth replied. “So, Mr. Mancuso, are you going to tell us?”

  “Well, I didn’t want to tell you before, ’cause I didn’t want to prejudice your examination of the four suspects. I wanted you to treat each one as a possible murderer. And, I must say, both you and Inez did exactly that.”

  “So, do tell, my boy?”

  “How about another round?” I asked, keeping these two in suspense.

  Ruth smiled, raising her empty glass, “As long as you’re buying, I’ll drink ‘em.”

  Dom said, “Here, I’ll get you two another drink. But don’t do the reveal, until I come back.”

  “Take your time, Dom,” I said, as he got up and went to have Patrick refill our drinks. “Let me ask you, Ruth. Is Inez upset at me?”

  “Not that I’m aware, no. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason,” I replied, leaving it at that.

  Dom came back with two fresh drinks. “One Makers Mark, and one, The Macallan eighteen. You’re drinking the expensive stuff, brother.”

  Smiling, I replied, “I know. I only do it here.”

  “So, who done it?” Ruth inquired, taking a sip from her bourbon.

  “This stuff is good,” I said, savoring the sherry oak cask flavor, as I let the single malt sip slide slowly down. “I think I’m going to get a cigar, do you mind?”

  “Yes, I mind,” Ruth said, jokingly, “Tell us who did it.”

  “He loves to do this. Taunting is a favorite past-time for him,” quipped Dom.

  I came back to the booth, lighting a Padrón Dámaso. “Dámaso Padrón was the first Padrón to arrive in Cuba from the Canary Islands, in the eighteen hundreds,” I said, admiring the cigar, after taking the first drag.

  “Enough with the history lesson. You’re stalling because you don’t know the killer, do you?” questioned Dom.

  “But I do, my dear Doctor Watson, I do. So, let’s start with who did not kill Mrs. Longworth. Suspect number one; Mr. Marshall Adams. At first, I thought they were purposely mishandling the trial, and he was the lead attorney. Even though Adams and Longworth were life
long friends, he never really believed that Harold Longworth was innocent. Don’t you agree, Dom?”

  “I agree, he tried to say yes, he believed. But, after, he admitted to thinking Harold may have done it.”

  “Exactly, a friend like that, almost brothers, would have to know better. Besides, his defense was weak. He allowed the facts, laid out by the police, to convince him of Longworth’s guilt. That tells me he believed in Longworth’s guilt, and did not have the conviction.”

  Ruth inquired, “What about his admitted love for Mrs. Longworth? And his clandestine dinners with her?”

  “Yes, that. He was probably in love with her in high school and college. But, I think he ceased loving her in that fashion, when he accepted his best friend’s relationship with Sheila. As to the dinners, after all these years, his love for her had turned into a brotherly love. Sheila was troubled, confused, about her romantic relationships, or lack thereof with her husband. Marshall Adams became a trusted friend, a mentor for her. Someone she could open up to, and be assured of his candor.”

  “What about Jessica Jones, Mrs. Adams?” Ruth asked.

  “I hate to say this,” Dom said, “But, I found Mrs. Adams very capable of murder. She’s harsh and driven. With quite the temper to go with it.”

  “In other words, a bitch?” Ruth chimed in, taking her last sip of the bourbon.

  “I didn’t want to say it,” Dom replied, smiling.

  “Indeed, she is all that,” I replied, “but if she had wanted to kill anyone in a moment of rage, she would have killed her husband. According to the research, they weren’t getting along. She had gone as far as contacting a detective to follow her husband. She knew of the secret dinners with Sheila Longworth. Was there a sexual relationship between her and Sheila? Possibly. And if so, which is what I think, it was only revenge against Marshall, her husband. No, if she had it in her to kill someone, her target would have been him.”

  I motioned to Mr. Pat to refresh Ruth’s drink, and he nodded.

  “Very well, that leaves us two suspects,” Dom stated.

  “It does. And here is my conclusion.” I went on to lay out the case against Mr. Chuck Pearson, Adams’ partner, and Ms. Geraldine Francis, the Executive Director of the Longworth Foundation.