Fishtown: A Jack Regan/Izzy Ichowitz Novel Page 11

  Ichowitz studied the wall of photographs. The nun was pictured in almost fifty of them. “Sister there were hundreds of girls confirmed since you came to the parish, how can you remember one girl from so many years ago?”

  She looked at him as if not fully comprehending his question. “I remember all of them; some more than others. I was here when they were baptized, and when many of them got married, and…” she wiped a tear away with the back of her hand.

  “Is Kathleen’s mother still alive?” Ichowitz asked.

  “No, no. The poor woman died of a broken heart shortly after Kathleen disappeared,” she paused and straightened her headpiece. “Her youngest brother Albert and his family still live at the Blutarski’s house, it’s only a few blocks from here.”

  “What do you think?” McElroy asked as they drove to the Blutarski residence.

  “I think Sister Marta is one sharp cookie. If the Blutarski family kept anything that belonged to the girl, we may be able to confirm her identity, or we might be able to see if her brother’s DNA matches the remains.”

  They parked in front of the row house on Norris Street near 6th. Five children whose ages spanned from toddler to pre-teen, all with blond hair and blue eyes were sitting on the front steps intently eating out of cups of Rita’s water ice. A young woman came out of the door when she saw them approach.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Are you Mrs. Blutarski?”

  She nodded.

  McElvoy showed her his shield and explained the purpose of their visit as the children watched.

  “You have a beautiful family,” Ichowitz said. “One of your daughters looks exactly like the picture of Kathleen Sister Marta showed us.”

  “We named our eldest daughter Kathleen. Kath, go get the picture of Aunt Kathleen and show it to the policemen.”

  The girl handed her mother the container of water ice and ran into the house. She came out with a framed photograph. The resemblance between the young girl and the teenager in the photograph was remarkable.

  “Mrs. Blutarski, do you have anything that belonged to Kathleen that the family kept?” Ichowitz asked.

  “I think my husband may have kept some of her things in a box, as a remembrance of his sister. Why?”

  Ichowitz explained that it might help them solve the mystery of Kathleen’s disappearance.

  “Do you mean…”

  He shook his head and he could tell from her expression that she understood.

  “Kath watch the kids for me for a few minutes. Detectives, I think my husband put the box in the attic.”

  While they were inside the house Ichowitz sat down on the step next to the children and waited.

  “Are you a policeman?” a boy who looked to Ichowitz to be 6 or 7 years old, with red lips from the cherry water ice he was eating asked.

  “I used to be, I’m retired now. I’m helping Detective McElroy.”

  The little boy thought over Ichowitz’ response and asked, “Are you going to find our Aunt Kathleen?”

  Ichowitz smiled and said, “We’re going to try.”

  “That would make my daddy and mommy very happy,” he said. All the other children nodded their heads confirming their brother’s comment.

  When Mrs. Blutarski walked out followed by McElroy, the little boy stood up and said, “Mommy the police osifer said he’s going to find Aunt Kathleen!” The other children nodded.

  She ruffled his hair and said, “Yes that’s very nice of them to try.”

  McElroy stood in the doorway. He was smiling; he held a small enamel box in his hand. “Izz, grab an evidence bag out of my car and let’s give Mrs. Blutarski a receipt for this.”

  After they had properly documented the chain of evidence and assured Elaine Blutarski they would keep her informed McElroy showed Ichowitz what was in the box. It contained three barrettes with a vacant space at the bottom for another. “How much do you want to bet me the missing barrette is the one we retrieved from the skeleton at the construction site?”

  Ichowitz nodded.

  “Mrs. Blutarski told me her husband put this and few other things that belonged to his sister away after she disappeared. She said no one else ever used the combs. Izz, some of the girl’s hair is still in the combs. There should be enough for the techs to send for a DNA match.”

  “Maybe, but will that lead to her killer?” he asked.

  McElroy shrugged, “Dunno, but at least it’s a start.”

  Chapter 21

  Michael Flynn sat on a bench on the east side of Rittenhouse Square across the narrow street from the lively restaurants and bars situated adjacent to one another between Walnut and Locust streets facing the park. The crowd looked decidedly upscale. Young men wearing suits with skinny lapels and tight pants and women in short skirts and boots, all trying hard to affect a cool, sophisticated attitude as they waited for their names to be called by the major domos with bored expressions who guarded the doors of the hip establishments. Both the people on the queue and the door watchers seemed to Flynn to be expending far too much energy trying to seem nonchalant. On occasion a host or hostess would smile and greet a favored regular who did not need to give his or her name, or wait with the not so fortunate to gain access.

  Flynn had decided the scene was perhaps a tad too trendy for the likes of a ‘Main Line Diva’ and was getting ready to move on when he saw Courtney Wells walk across Locust Street. He watched as she was warmly greeted by the young man at the podium of the Parc Brassiere who immediately escorted her to the bar where she was welcomed by two other fashionably dressed women.

  He crossed the street and gave the podium watcher, who thought better of trying to stop him, a hard look as he walked past him. Flynn was ruggedly handsome and gave off a hard, dangerous vibe. His hair was cut very short and he kept his beard at stubble length. He was tall and lean, and still retained the cut physique of the mid fielder he had once been. He sat down at an empty stool at the bar across from Wells and her friends, ordered a Guinness and took in the scene. He smiled as one of Wells’ companions noticed him, whispered something to her mates and subtly nodded in his direction.

  He could tell from her reaction that she remembered him.

  “Courtney, do you know him? God he’s so hot! Why don’t you invite him to join us,” her companion said and nudged her off the stool.

  Wells put down her drink and slowly made her way over.

  “Hello Ms. Wells, do ya remember me?” Flynn asked.

  She nodded, “I saw you leaving Ari Nooris’ condo in Manayunk. It was before he was arrested for all of those terrible things that happened at the Independence Mall.”

  “That’s right. I’m Michael Flynn and I’ve been lookin for you.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t go into all of that right here. We need some privacy, but I promise you it will be worth your trouble. Meet me later tonight at Duffy’s Tavern. It’s on 2nd Street near Girard in Northern Liberties. I’ll be waitin for ya,” he said.

  “What should I tell my friends? They asked me if I knew who you were, and to invite you to join us.”

  He looked over at the two women who were watching them. He smiled, “All’s the pity, I’m sure it would have been a luvly time. Tell them it was a case of mistaken identity, and that I have a pressing engagement. I’ll be waitin for you at Duffy’s say around 11.”

  He waived at Courtney’s friends and walked away.

  All conversation stopped the moment she walked into Duffy’s Tavern. The regulars, especially the women, gave her more than a casual glance. Courtney was still dressed in the fashionable attire that went over well at Rittenhouse Square, but looked slightly out of place in Northern Liberties. As the bar patrons watched her, she searched the room and located Flynn sitting alone in a booth at the back near the pool tables. She could feel the weight of their stares as she wal
ked past the bar.

  When she approached Flynn stood up, “Thanks for comin.” He caught the barmaid’s eye and held up two fingers.

  When she sat down at his table the crowd returned to their conversation, satisfied that she was an invited guest. The bar maid brought over two pints of half and half, and set them down on the table. “Thanks luv,” Flynn said and smiled at the girl.

  “I took the liberty of orderin you a draft, seein as they don’t serve Cosmos at Duffy’s.”

  “Mr. Flynn.”

  “Please call me Michael,” he interrupted her.

  She smiled and said, “Michael, earlier this evening you told me you would explain why you were looking for me.”

  He nodded.

  She was completely still as she waited for his response. She had the looks of an aristocrat, a natural beauty with features no plastic surgeon could ever replicate. Her smoky blue-gray eyes studied him with an intensity that excited Flynn. But it was not only her physical attributes that attracted him. In her stillness she evoked a sexual presence that he found intoxicating.

  After several more seconds passed as they held each other’s gaze he answered, “Well I could tell ya that you’re a beautiful woman and I wanted ta make your acquaintance.”

  She smiled again her face showed just the hint of a blush, “I’m flattered but I doubt you asked me to come here tonight just to hit on me. You could have joined me and my friends at the Parc. I’m pretty sure one of them would have been happy to make your acquaintance. Besides, weren’t you concerned that I would contact the police and tell them you came back to town? I read in the papers that they suspected you of being involved in the robbery at the Barnes.”

  He looked amused, “No I wasn’t worried about ya turning me in, and I didn’t ask you here just to pass the time with a beautiful woman.”

  She waited once again holding him in her stillness.

  He broke eye contact and asked, “Has Ari Nooris contacted you?”

  “Ari? No, I haven’t heard from him since he was arrested last summer. I understand he’s being held somewhere by the authorities.”

  “Yes that’s right he was in custody at Guantanamo Bay. But he’s been released.”

  “I didn’t know that. But what has that to do with me? I broke it off with Ari before all of that.”

  “Well, Ari had quite the thing fer you. I don’t think he’s the kinda fella that accepts rejection very well. I suspect that if he comes back to town he’ll be lookin you up.”

  “Well if he does, I’ll just have to make it clear to him.”

  He waived his hand cutting her off, “Ms. Wells.”

  “Courtney,” she interrupted him.

  He gave her a cold smile, “Courtney, I don’t think yer understandin what I’m tellin you. Nooris is a dangerous fella. He’s comin back here to even the score with individuals he believes got him arrested. He’s already hurt a lot of people, even killed some, and I’m not just referring ta the innocent people at the mall.”

  Her face tightened as she considered the seriousness of his words.

  “This isn’t the Main Line, or whatever they call where ya grew up. Ya got yerself involved with dangerous people. Ya could be seriously hurt.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “Good, I’ve finally got your attention. Now I’m gonna tell you how we’re goin to handle this,” he said. “Ya see I’m one of the people Ari holds responsible for his current circumstances. So I’m planning on making sure he does no harm to me and mine.”

  Before he could explain his plan the door at the back of the room opened and Duffy, accompanied by three young men walked out. He surveyed the room and his eyes settled on Flynn and Courtney Wells. He whispered something to his entourage who walked over to the bar as he made his way to their table.

  “Michael Flynn himself,” he said, “and with quite a luvly companion.”

  Flynn stood up and said, “Danny Duffy this is Courtney Wells, the young woman I was discussin with you the other day.”

  He extended his hand, “It’s a pleasure ta make yer acquaintance.”

  She took his hand in hers, “Nice to meet you,” she replied as they locked eyes.

  “Danny can you join us?” Flynn asked.

  “Somehow, I don’t think the two of you need the likes of me hangin around. I’d be spoilin yer evening. Besides, I’ve got some business that needs attendin to.”

  “Well perhaps some other time?”

  Duffy nodded and walked towards the door and the three young men followed him out.

  After he left them, Flynn told her how he planned to direct Nooris’ attention away from his son. “If ya don’t mind my company, I’d like to pretend that you and I are an item. Ya know, making our presence known at the hot places in town, that kind of thing. That way, Nooris will want ta take care of me first. Ya can tell your friends that I took yer number when we talked at that bar tonight.”

  “But why would Ari come back here? It doesn’t make sense. He can go anywhere in the world. He can have any woman he desires.”

  “I’ve spent considerable time with the man. You were more than just a fling with him. He’ll come back, and when he finds out yer with me, he’ll come lookin.”

  “But if he’s as dangerous as you say, aren’t you concerned he’ll try to hurt you?”

  “Nah, I can handle the likes of Nooris,” he said and the contours of his face suddenly looked deadly.

  For the first time her cool demeanor exposed a tremor of real fear. “How can I get in touch with you if Ari contacts me?”

  Flynn gave her his cell phone number and the address of the apartment where he was staying.

  “One of Duffy’s people will see you home,” he said and left her sitting alone in the booth.

  Chapter 22

  “Rabi is everything set?”

  Rabinowitz nodded. Nooris had carefully planned their exit from Miami. It was time for them to return to Philly to pick up the Braque and take care of loose ends. Nooris believed in paybacks. After eliminating all of the other possibilities he concluded that Michael Flynn had betrayed him. Not only did the betrayal almost result in his being incarcerated for the rest of his life, it also cost him millions of dollars— the money for the masterpieces they had stolen from the Barnes, when the Sheik’s accounts were frozen by the federal authorities before the transfer to Nooris had been completed.

  He was more than a little annoyed that Shona Cohen had not responded to his directives. He would address that at the proper time. For the time being he needed her and was confident he could convince Shona that it was in her best interest to remain loyal to him and allow him to capitalize on the unique talents he had so carefully cultivated.

  Settling the score with Flynn was another matter. Going to Belfast where Flynn had his family’s protection was out of the question. He would have to lure him back to the States. The bait was obvious, Flynn’s son Liam lived with his mother and Regan in Manayunk. He had time to work out a plan, but first he had to eliminate the minor nuisance of the FBI surveillance. Nooris laughed to himself over the clumsy manner in which the vaunted agency had monitored them since they walked out of the Miami Airport ten days ago. It amazed him that the United States had avoided another major attack from Al-Qaeda, or any of the other foreign and home grown hate groups that had blossomed in the wake of the Twin Towers, and the ill-considered wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

  Nooris and Rabinowitz would be leaving Miami tonight. He had no doubt whatsoever that his watchers were incapable of stopping them. He checked for messages at the front desk and was handed an envelope by the attendant. After checking the envelope’s contents he smiled at Rabinowitz and nodded. It was midnight when they left the Fontainebleau for a night out at the clubs in South Beach. They taxied to Joe’s, leaving their escorts talking on their wrist microphones and scurrying to keep
them in view as they enjoyed the stone crab and key lime pie for which the restaurant was famous.

  From Joe’s they went to a number of nightspots along Collins Avenue. The streets of South Beach and the clubs grew more and more crowded and energized as the evening stretched into the early morning.

  Nooris stood at the crowded bar at the Lapidus Lounge and waited for Rabinowitz to return from the men’s room. He apologized when he brushed against the young man standing next to him. The man never felt the pin prick when Nooris stuck the point of his pen into the back of his hand injecting the poison. Seconds later he fell to the floor and Nooris yelled for help. In the pandemonium that ensued when the young man’s companions began to scream for assistance, Nooris slipped past the crowd and walked out. Rabinowitz was waiting in a black Maserati Alfieri with the engine running. The message Nooris had received at the hotel as they were leaving was the valet receipt for the car he had arranged as part of the getaway plan.

  Rabinowitz sped through the Miami streets with the FBI’s Suburban in hot pursuit. He reached the warehouse district and noted that now there were two Suburbans and a Miami Beach police patrol car behind him. None of the trailing vehicles were a match for the Maserati. He ran the red light at a busy intersection and smiled when the lead trailing vehicle crashed into a car. He drove on the sidewalk nearly hitting a group of pedestrians who scattered to avoid being run over by the trio of cars speeding towards them.

  He was traveling at over 70 mph when he slammed on the brakes, slid into a U-turn and headed up the exit ramp of the interstate. He weaved around several cars that were exiting the highway. Nooris patted him on his shoulder when the Suburban and the police car trailing them crashed into the traffic barrier as they attempted to avoid the oncoming traffic.