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

  Johnson looked at the glass from which he was drinking his Chianti, and asked, “What’s this glass, then?”

  I laughed, “That’s Vinnie’s all-in-one wine glass.”

  Wine connoisseur Tony enjoyed the joke, and laughed along with Johnson.

  Tony went on, “Now, white wine glasses are narrower, with somewhat straight or tulip-shaped sides. The narrowness of the white wine glass allows the chilled wine to retain its temperature. By the way, on both wine glasses, your fingers should lift the wine by the stem. Otherwise, the temperature of your hands will warm up the wine.”

  “Here,” I said to Johnson, giving him a knife, “next time I ask Tony for an explanation, either stab him or slash your wrist.”

  We laughed, as Father Dominic walked in our private room.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late. You want to start over?” Dom quipped.

  “Have a seat, brother. Tony will be happy to educate you about wine glasses,” I said, as I laughed and coughed at the same time. The family-style meal began coming in, as waiters served a variety of Italian specialties.

  Johnson got back to the question of the white wine, “Okay, you deduced that Mrs. L. and the killer drank white wine. So, what?”

  “Luisa, the maid at the Longworth’s home, like I said, found broken glass in the trash compactor when she was able to get back in the home. While there, I perused the kitchen cupboards and found that two glasses of white wine were missing. Luisa confirmed that there were only ten, from a total of twelve. My deduction was, that on the evening when Mrs. L. was killed, Mrs. L., and her companion drank white wine. Further, I surmised that the wine drinking was probably a normal occurrence when they met at home. Her companion, or Mrs. L., would typically dispose of the wine bottle in the trash compactor, and wash the glasses. Except, that evening, the killer, knowing Mr. L. was in the home, wanted to dispose of any evidence, and threw in the glasses with the bottle. The noise Harold Longworth heard, was, in fact, the bottle and glasses being compacted. He specifically said he heard something break.”

  “You still have four suspects, so, who did it?” Johnson asked.

  Dom pointed at me, “Joey, tell them about Mr. Longworth’s allergies, and your thoughts on that.”

  “Okay. I found out from the maid, Luisa, that Mr. L. has severe allergies. Dust, and perfume trigger a reaction, she said. I remembered that detective on the scene, the night of the murder, telling me that Longworth had a bad case of sneezing, sniffles, and watery eyes when he questioned him. Then, during the trial, on two occasions, Longworth had a reaction to something.” I paused to catch my breath.

  Johnson broke in, “The courtroom was packed with people. Anyone of which, could have been wearing a strong perfume.”

  “True, but, it only happened when Mr. Pearson walked by our defense table, and again, when Geraldine walked by our table to take the stand. Keep in mind, that attorney Adams sat next to Mr. L. with no allergic reaction, and Mrs. Adams frequently went out with the Longworths, so she would know that Harold Longworth was allergic to some perfumes.” I said, and as soon as I had said that out loud, I thought that, in itself, was a clue. But, I went on with my theory.

  Johnson asked, “So, you think it was one of these two, because of that?

  “Well, my dear captain, since I had already dismissed Mr. Adams and his wife, Jessica as suspects, now I only had two left. Larry and Harry filled in the clues I needed. Their secret investigation revealed a few things of importance: Mr. Pearson has a prescription for antihistamines, Larry found out that Mr. Pearson is allergic to the sulfites contained in white wine.”

  “So, your suspect is Geraldine Francis?” asked Johnson.

  “Geraldine, Mrs. Adams, and Mr. Pearson are the right height to match the entry angle of the two rounds that killed Mrs. L. The wine narrowed it down to two, Geraldine, and Jessica Adams. Further, Harry, the other detective, matched the scraped paint on the air conditioning unit by the driveway at their home, and showed signs of a car hitting it. The car,” I paused for effect, “was Geraldine’s baby blue Mini Cooper. She probably ran into the AC unit, when she pulled out of the driveway in a hurry to leave the scene. Of course, that could have happened at a prior time, there’s no way to tell. That just proves Geraldine’s car was there at some point.”

  Father Dominic said, “Explain to our guests. If this was a regular occurrence with Mrs. Longworth and Ms. Francis meeting at the home, for whatever it is they did, how did they risk not having Mr. Longworth walk in on them?

  “Excellent question, Padre. If you look closely at the crime scene photos, you’ll see an iPad on Mrs. Longworth’s night table. If I wanted to track your location, and you had an iPhone, like the Longworths both did, then all I would need is your username and password. Having that, with an iPad, or, iPhone, I can enter your information on mine, using the app, Find iPhone. Your location is going to show up immediately. And, when you begin walking, or driving, it will show your movement.”

  Dom followed up, “Okay Sherlock, if that’s the case, why did the killer, Ms. Francis, wait until the last minute to leave the home?”

  “Another good question, Father Dom,” I said, taking another sip from my wine. “Mr. Longworth had told his wife he would leave his office around eleven that evening, so the couple assumed he would not be home until about midnight. However, they must have looked at the iPad just around eleven that night, and noticed that Mr. L. was on the move, ahead of schedule.”

  Johnson was enjoying the meal and listening to my brilliant deductions. He put his silverware down, and said, “Great, you have Ms. Francis at the home, that’s the opportunity. What’s the motive? Jealousy?”

  I smiled, “At one point, I thought that was the motive, weak as it could have been. But then, Special Agent Belford,” I said, turning to face Tony, “provided me with the motive.”

  “Which is?” Dom asked.

  “Tony found that the FBI and the IRS were both looking into the Longworth Foundation for improprieties, more than likely committed by Ms. Francis and Mr. Pearson,” I responded.

  “Wow,” said Belford.

  “I’m good, right?” I said, turning to Tony.

  “No, I’m referring to this veal scaloppini. It’s excellent, right Captain?” quipped Agent Belford.

  “Sure is, Tony,” Johnson quipped back.

  “Amusing, very funny,” I said, laughing along with them.

  Johnson said, “In all seriousness, all you have is circumstantial evidence. Nothing proves that Geraldine, or, for that matter, any of the other three, did it.”

  “I know,” I replied, “This is where you guys come in.”

  “Oh, oh,” Johnson said, swallowing a sip of Chianti, and putting his glass down, “Sounds like you have one of your capers planned. The same type of shit that ended up in IAD.”

  Belford straightened up, and asked, “Internal Affairs Division has a file on you?”

  “Nothing to worry about, Tony. They can stick it up, you know where. I’m no longer on the force.”

  Belford glanced at Captain Johnson, who was shaking his head sideways.

  “Okay, Joey, what is it you want us to do, arrest Ms. Geraldine?” Johnson asked.

  Taking another sip of the Chianti, I said, “I wish it were that simple. Here is what I want to do, and how you guys can help.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Saturday, January 8th

  Vinnie had not allowed me to pay for the dinner, or the three bottles of Chianti we consumed the night before. We left the restaurant around eleven that evening, hoping to put our plan of action in motion today. However, we needed the unsolicited cooperation of Mr. Pearson and Ms. Francis, if it was going to come together on a Saturday.

  I had a feeling, that since both had spent a couple of days at the trial and away from their offices, they may want to catch up on their work on Saturday. Neither Captain Johnson nor Special Agent Belford felt comfortable about my out-of-box plan, but after three bottles of wine, they acquiesced
to go along with me on this. I had agreed with both, that ideally, Saturday would be the best day for them, since neither one of them had to report to their respective work locations.

  I had asked Agnes, our research guru and computer white-hat, to call both Pearson and Geraldine, around ten in the morning to confirm they were in. After calling them both, and telling them she had the wrong number, she called me with the nod to go ahead. Immediately, I called Johnson and Belford and told them we were on, as planned. The fact that both Pearson’s and Geraldine’s offices were in the same building in Manhattan made my plan easier to bring to fruition.

  I had positioned myself on the sidewalk, a few yards from the entrance to the building. Belford was to arrive at the building first, park a few yards from the entrance, and stay in his car. Johnson, was to follow, also staying in his vehicle until I gave him a signal.

  Entering Belford’s car, I said, “Go ahead Tony, make the call, and put her on speaker.”

  Tony dialed Geraldine’s number.

  “This is the Longworth Foundation, Geraldine Francis speaking, how may I help you?” she answered.

  I nodded to Tony.

  “Ms. Francis, this is FBI Special Agent Tony Belford, with New York’s White Collar Crime Division, good morning to you.”

  “Oh, how can I help you?”

  “I have a few questions for you, I wonder if you can come down, and meet me in front of your building?”

  She asked, “Are you here now?”

  “Yes, I am. It will only take a few moments.”

  Sounding a bit concerned, she said, “That’s a bit irregular. Why don’t you come up to my office?”

  “This will only take a couple of minutes. It’s strictly unofficial, and I wanted to do it this way, so that it can remain informal. I’ll meet you in front of the building,” he said, assertively.

  “Okay, how will I recognize you?” she asked.

  I thought to myself, A pigeon in New Jersey could recognize GQ Belford, standing here in Manhattan.

  “I’ll know you, Ms. Francis. And I’ll have my credentials ready.”

  “Very well, I’m on my way down.”

  I said to Tony, “Great job, partner. Let me go give Johnson the signal.”

  “You realize, Joey,” Belford started, “this may be the last time I use my creds. I may be unemployed tomorrow.

  “Tomorrow is Sunday, nobody works. You’ll keep them until Monday for sure,” I said, laughing, and reached for the door.

  Johnson had parked across the street, as planned. I walked around to the passenger’s side and sticking my head through the open window, I said, “Go ahead make your call.”

  Captain Johnson was a little apprehensive about my charade, and said, “I’m never going to make it to retirement with you pulling this shit, Joey.”

  “This is going to work just fine. “Plus, I’m a consultant with the NYPD, and we’re on a case. So, what's the problem?” I asked, moving away from the window.

  “Wait a second,” Johnson blurted, “You accepted our offer?”

  “I’m in. If we need to sign something, we’ll backdate it, and do it later. So, relax Captain. But, we need to work on my fees, I don’t know what you guys pay.”

  Johnson called Mr. Pearson. The called went almost identical to that of Belford’s, with Geraldine. With Pearson, finally agreeing to come down.

  Almost on cue, Geraldine walked out of the building. Belford introduced himself, and as planned, asked her to sit in the car with him for a few minutes. She did.

  I waited out of sight, as Pearson also walked out. Captain Johnson, standing a few yards away from Belford’s car, greeted Pearson, flashing his creds. They both walked to the captain’s car and sat.

  The plan was to have Belford ask Ms. Francis about Pearson. In the other car, Johnson was to do the opposite, for a few minutes. Now it was my turn to do my thing.

  I entered Johnson’s car and sat in the back seat. The moment I did, I noticed Pearson’s strong scent of cologne.

  Pearson was startled for a moment, and turning to look back, he said, “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “Hey Chuck, how you doin’?”

  “This is bullshit, bullshit. I’m getting out,” he said, as he reached for the door.

  “Before you do, Chuck,” I said, sternly, “I want you to look at the car parked across the street, the black one. You see it?”

  He glanced at it. “So, what?”

  “Well, Chuck, the lady in the front seat is Geraldine Francis. The man behind the wheel is a special agent with the FBI. The white-collar crime division of the FBI,” I let that sink in, as Pearson sat back momentarily. “Right now, Geraldine is spilling her guts about the scheme you both concocted to take over the Foundation.”

  “You’re full of shit, full of shit,” he retorted.

  “Not only is she coming clean with the fraud scheme, because the FBI is offering her a deal, but, Ms. Francis has fingered you as the shooter, the killer, Chuck, of Mrs. Longworth.”

  “I did not kill Mrs. Longworth, I did not kill Mrs. Longworth.”

  “You know what Chuck? I tend to believe that. But, Geraldine is saying it was you that concocted all the various tax schemes; the fraudulent tax receipts, the laundering. Plus, plus, to keep Sheila Longworth quiet, and not expose the schemes, you came over that night and shot her to death. You killed Sheila!” I said, loudly into his ear.

  It was in the thirties outside, but Chuck Pearson had begun to sweat profusely.

  I touched Captain Johnson on the shoulder, “Captain.”

  Johnson got my cue, and read Pearson his Miranda rights, and followed with, “Having read you your rights, Mr. Pearson, if you cooperate, and come clean with us now, this can be a lot easier on you, going forward.”

  Pearson sat there stunned, removing the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. “Look, I allowed Geraldine to do what she did with the donors. That is, the tax fraud and money laundering. She had been doing it before when she was a trust officer at a bank, —”

  I interrupted, “But, it was you that took it a step further with the government of Haiti, and its president, plus all the other stuff. Then you killed Sheila.”

  “No, no. It was Geraldine who killed Sheila, she killed her, that night. She tried talking Sheila out of exposing us. But, she wouldn’t do it. She was going to speak to the IRS. I tried, I tried…” his voice went silent.

  “You tried what, Chuck?” I asked, hitting the front seat of the car with my hand.

  “I tried to tell Geraldine not to do it, not to do it. But she killed her, she killed her.”

  Captain Johnson asked, “You saw her killing Mrs. Longworth?”

  Pearson looked at Johnson, “What? No, no, I wasn’t there. She told me she was going to kill her if Sheila insisted on talking to the FBI. Oh, my God.”

  “Will you testify to that, and admit your role, Mr. Pearson?” asked Johnson.

  Pearson put his head down, drops of sweat still poured from his forehead, “Yes, I will. Yes, I will, but I want a deal.”

  I smiled, and dialed Tony Belford’s cell phone, “Special Agent, you have the shooter in your car. Mr. Pearson has admitted to his involvement and will testify. Arrest her please.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  A feeling of exuberance is what I had, as both Mr. Pearson and Ms. Francis were driven away in separate patrol cars. They both were about to be charged with conspiracy to murder, and murder, respectively, plus a bunch of other offenses. I said my goodbyes to Belford and the Captain, thanking them both for their participation. Captain Johnson made sure I would stop by the precinct, first thing Monday morning, to formalize our consulting agreement, and my licensed investigator partner’s, Father Dominic, to consult for the NYPD.

  I called Ruth Goldstein on her cell, to give her the good news, but all I got was her voice mail. I thought of calling Inez Hartman, but decided against it. Then, I called her anyway.

  “This is Inez Hart
man.”

  “Inez, Joey here.”

  There was silence, more liked iced silence, for a few seconds.

  “Inez?”

  “Yes, what can I do for you, Mancuso?”

  “I have excellent news. I tried calling Ruth, but all I got was her voice mail.”

  “She’s at the Hamptons, with family. Won’t be back until Monday.”

  “Good for, —” I started to say, as she interrupted.

  “I’m in the middle of something, what is it that you want to tell her?” she said, coldly.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I wanted to tell you both that Geraldine Francis has been arrested, and charged with the murder of Sheila Longworth. Plus, Mr. Chuck Pearson, with conspiracy to murder. Plus, a bunch of other stuff.”

  She changed her attitude just a bit, and asked, “When did this happen?”

  “A few moments ago. The FBI and the NYPD collaborated on this. Mr. Pearson gave up Geraldine as the shooter, and has agreed to testify against her.”

  “Did you have anything to do with this?” she inquired.

  “But of course, I did.”

  “I guess the nickname the press gave you, ‘The Last Advocate’, is well deserved. How did you put this together so quick?”

  “I had all the pieces of the puzzle together, but I needed the suspects to cooperate with a little scheme I concocted. And, long story short, they did this morning.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Actually, good for Harold, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “How long do you guys have to file a motion for judgment acquittal?”

  “We have two weeks, but we’ll do it on Monday. Maybe even tomorrow. I’ll call Ruth.”

  “Can you call Harold and his kids?”

  “Tell you what, we’ll call Harold. You go ahead and call Margery, and her brother. After all, it was her idea to hire you.”