Murder and Mayhem in Manayunk Read online

  “Is this going to be on the menu?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Do you think the regulars will like it?”

  “I think once the word gets out that the Grape serves food like this, the regulars won’t be able to get in!”

  As they had another cup of what Regan thought of as “Katey’s Special Blend” coffee she said, “I can’t thank you enough for taking Liam to the park and introducing him to the soccer coach. That’s the first time I saw that smile since we arrived.”

  “You’re welcome. It was really a pleasure to watch Liam. Where did he learn to play so well?”

  She sat quiet for a moment contemplating her response.

  “I suppose his father taught him, or maybe it’s in his genes. His father was a professional football player. He played for one of the clubs in Ireland.”

  “Will your husband be joining you in the states?” Regan asked.

  “No, no. And he’s not my husband. Liam’s dad is not the marryin kind, not that I would even consider being wed to such a scoundrel.”

  Regan felt relieved to learn that Katey O’Malley was not married. He was surprised at his reaction to the fact that she was single. Could he actually be ready to get into a relationship? His mind raced back to the previous evening and Courtney Wells. Once again he wondered if he was ready for the emotional turmoil of becoming involved with the opposite sex.

  As if reading his mind she said, “My Uncle Mike tells me your wife passed away. He told me she was a beautiful and gifted person. As you know O’Malley isn’t very generous when it comes to giving out compliments, so that’s high tribute from the likes of him.”

  “Yes, Susan and Mike were very close. In fact, Mike introduced us. You know, once you get past that crusty exterior Mike’s a real romantic.”

  “Ah go on!” she said and laughed.

  It had been close to two years since his wife had passed away. Regan was clearly out of practice and suddenly felt awkward not knowing what to say.

  “Well, I better find out what mischief Liam’s got himself into,” she said.

  “Will we be seeing you at the Grape? I mean, I’m sure Liam will be wantin to go back to soccer,” she blushed.

  “Well, I would not want to disappoint Liam,” Regan said.

  FIVE

  The entire Regan clan gathered for lunch at the family home in Chestnut Hill on the third Sunday of the month without exception. The fact that they had all been together just two nights before for the fundraiser at the Union League did not disrupt the schedule.

  Regan noticed a Mercedes convertible with the vanity license Plate “DIVA” in the driveway. When he entered the backyard he was surprised to see Courtney Wells helping his sisters put the food out on the serving table. She looked up as he approached.

  “Court, this is a pleasant surprise,” he said.

  “Jack, I left you several messages on your voice mail. I wanted to ask you if it was alright with you if I joined your family. I mean, your mother told me you wouldn’t mind, but I…”

  “Court, you know you’re always welcome here,” he said as they embraced. She looked even more beautiful and just as elegant in a sundress and sandals as in the designer gown she had worn at the fundraiser on Friday evening. Her hair was in a pony tail and there was not a trace of make-up on her face.

  “What?” she asked in response to his stare.

  “You look just like you did when we were in college.”

  She blushed and said, “I don’t know about that. I can tell you it takes a lot longer for me to create that illusion, but thanks anyway.”

  He continued to stare at her and asked, “Why was it that we broke up?”

  She sighed and responded, “Well, I guess it was because when I went away to college I went insane. And there was also the fact that you fell in love with someone else.”

  “Oh yeah, I seem to recall something like that.”

  “There you are,” his mother said. “Courtney, you know this young man is never on time. I’ve a mind to buy him a new watch!”

  “Mother,” he said and gave her a look as they hugged.

  “Is Dad in the den?”

  “You two aren’t going to be talking shop are you?”

  “I promise it will only take a couple minutes.”

  “Well, keep it short; after all you have company today.”

  His father was sitting behind the desk in his study talking on the phone. Jack knocked on the door jamb John Hogan Regan looked up, smiled and waved him in. Jack took one of the leather chairs in front of his father’s desk and waited for his father to finish the call.

  “Dad, I assume Izzy filled you in on the Larson homicide. Isadore Ichowitz and Regan’s father knew each other since their days at the Police Academy. Both men had joined the force following their discharge from the service. Both had served multiple tours in Viet Nam. Their friendship had endured through the years, as their careers followed different paths.

  Regan was a third generation police officer, destined for command rank from the day he took the oath. Ichowitz got on the force by virtue of his Veteran’s preference, which increased his score on the application test, which was already the highest score even without the additional points, to number one on the appointment list. Regan was number two.

  “Yes, he told me that Dorothy Wiggins had been at the crime scene around the time of the murder. He wants to question her as part of the investigation. Izzy told me you identified the victim and that she was supposed to be your principal witness before the grand jury. I suppose you want to be involved in the murder investigation.”

  Jack nodded his head.

  “Alright, I’ll have a chat with the DA.”

  “John.” The matriarch of the family stood at the door. “This is family time. The two of you can do your business tomorrow. Now let the boy spend some time with his guest.”

  Regan smiled and said, “Jack, be careful. Your mother has decided it’s time for you to start dating.”

  “Dad, I think she’s already decided who I should be dating,” he said.

  “Well, you know your mother. Once she makes up her mind about something it’s a lot easier if you just go with the flow. Besides, looks to me like your mother’s got excellent taste. Courtney is a real beauty!”

  Jack blushed.

  “Uncle Jack, come see, we’re all in the newspaper!” Missey, the youngest of his nieces and nephews, grabbed his hand and led him to the picnic table where the kids had spread out the Society Page of the Sunday Inquirer. Pictures from the Children’s Hospital fundraiser took up the entire section. He sat down next to his niece and looked at the photographs. Most of the pictures were of Courtney and him. He felt her hand on his shoulder as she stood behind him looking at the newspaper.

  “The two of you make such a beautiful couple!” his mother said. They both turned back at her and rolled their eyes.

  “Too much?” she asked and they all laughed.

  They sat under the Oak tree and watched Regan’s nephews and nieces and their fathers play soccer, the dads against the kids. The kids were beating their fathers handily as his sisters and parents cheered them on. As he watched he thought of Liam O’Malley and felt guilty.

  “What were you thinking just then?” Courtney asked him.

  He looked at her. She was beautiful. He shook his head and said. “Yesterday I met a nine-year-old boy from Ireland and took him to the Manayunk soccer league at the park across the street from my house.”

  “And where did you make the acquaintance of a young boy from Ireland?”

  “He’s Mike O’Malley’s great nephew. You remember Mike, he owns the corner pub at Grape and Main Street. Mike’s niece and her son have emigrated. His niece is going to help Mike run the Grape.”

  “Oh,” she said and gave him a stare.

  “What?”

  “Is Mike’s niece married?”

  He shook his head.

  “Is she pretty?”

  He nodded.

&n
bsp; “Oh,” she gave him another look.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  But Regan knew that wasn’t true. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t even dating either of these women and he was already in trouble.

  Dorothy Wiggins stared at her reflection in the mirror. She had long ago faced the reality that she was an unattractive woman. Her hooked nose, beady eyes and acne-scarred face somehow made her look perpetually angry. Her personality matched the image she projected to a tee. She found it more than frustrating that ugly men who acquired great wealth and power could overcome their physical shortcomings and attract beautiful young women. She had amassed a fortune and through the force of her personality and wit reached the zenith of power in her profession, and yet she found no comfort in any of her achievements. She was lonely and bitter.

  The Megan Larsons of the world, the girls with perfect features and bodies to match, had it all. That bitch took her for a ride, gaining access to the rich and powerful leaders of Philadelphia as Wiggins’ associate. Once she had established a presence among the power brokers, Larson dumped her. Such an act of betrayal would never be forgotten. The injustice of it all left Wiggins with a hatred that burned in her core. And yet when she confronted the tramp, Wiggins literally threw herself at her feet, begging Megan to come back, all to no avail.

  “You fool!” she hissed at her reflection. “Will you never learn?”

  SIX

  “Detective Ichowitz, there’s a young man here who’s asking for you.” The officer guarding the crime scene pointed to the Comcast truck stopped at the entrance to the Pickle Works.

  Ichowitz looked over and saw a young man wearing a shirt with the Comcast logo standing next to the truck. He waved the young man into the parking lot.

  “You asked to see me?”

  “Yes sir. I’m Ben Gold, I work for Comcast. I was at the Nooris unit last Friday evening. I saw Megan Larson there,” he spoke quickly as if he was trying to unburden himself of a heavy guilt. “I was out of town yesterday and just found out what happened. I told my supervisor I saw Megan here last Friday, and she contacted the Fourth District. They told me I could find you here.”

  “OK, slow down Mr. Gold,” Ichowitz said, trying to calm the young man. “Do you remember what time you saw Ms. Larson?”

  “Yes sir, I got to the condo around six o’clock. I was dispatched there for a trouble call. The Nooris are on the VIP list, so I had to make sure I got there on time, or else they would complain. I had been there a number of times before. The Nooris always find something to complain about. I entered all the information in my log.”

  “OK. What happened when you got there?”

  “Well, Megan, I mean, Ms. Larson, answered the door.”

  “Did you know Ms. Larson?”

  He nodded his head. “Yes, Megan and I were classmates at Radnor High. We used to hang out together back then.”

  “OK. So what happened?”

  “She told me that Avi let her crash at his brother’s condo.”

  “Avi Nooris?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Do you know Avi?”

  He nodded, “Yes sir. He was also one of our classmates at Radnor.”

  “But I thought he’s an Israeli?”

  “Yeah, but his father was the Israeli Consulate. Avi’s family lived in Radnor back then.”

  “Mr. Gold, could you accompany me to the Fourth District so that I can take your statement?”

  “Sure, if that will help. Detective, Megan was fine when I left the Nooris condo on Friday. I’m so sorry about what happened. I mean, I’ve never known anyone who was the victim of such a horrible crime.”

  “I understand. And we really appreciate your help. Officer, will you escort Mr. Gold to the District? He’s going to give us a statement to help our investigation. Please do not put him in one of the interrogation rooms. I’m using the Inspector’s office. Let Mr. Gold wait for me there, OK?”

  By the time Ichowitz had completed his questioning of the Comcast technician and finished checking out his story, he had concluded that Gold was legit. The Comcast tech and the victim and Avi Nooris had been classmates at Radnor High School as he claimed. Gold had logged his time at the condo and recorded all of his activities as required. According to his manager, they dispatched Gold to handle the Nooris’ calls, because the Nooris were big time complainers and the young man was one of Comcast’s top performers.

  Gold left the Nooris condo at 6:45 PM. There was nothing amiss when he left. He told Ichowitz that the victim told him she and Avi Nooris were only friends. It was apparent to Ichowitz that Gold and Avi Nooris were not friends. However, the young man did not see Nooris at the crime scene that night. He had no reason to suspect that Nooris had anything to do with the homicide. As far as he knew there was no one else at the condo the entire time he was there that evening.

  The crime scene techs had wrapped up their work at the condo and all of the physical evidence had been tagged and bagged. The Medical Examiner would conduct the autopsy on Monday morning. Ichowitz would review the security video again to see if he had missed anything the first ten times he had watched it. They were still trying to identify some of the vehicles that had accessed the parking lot. He realized that the first few hours of a homicide investigation were critically important. Even though the timing of the Comcast technician’s visit to the condo had eliminated Dorothy Wiggins as a suspect, Ichowitz wanted to make sure he had all his facts straight before he questioned her. Wiggins may have seen something during her time at the condo that could be valuable to the investigation.

  He was rereading his notes of the Gold statement when the phone rang. He saw from the caller ID that it was Regan.

  “Jack, to what do I owe the honor of this call on a Sunday evening?”

  “Izz, did my father call you?”

  “Yes, I heard from the Commissioner.”

  “Then you know he’s going to call my boss and have me assigned to your investigation. I’m sorry. I should have asked you before I spoke with him. But, with Megan Larson’s murder my grand jury investigation against Wiggins looks like it’s headed to the shitter.”

  “Fuggetaboudit,” Ichowitz replied. “Besides, I can use all the help I can get.” Ichowitz filled him in on the Comcast tech’s evidence.

  “Looks like we can’t pin the murder on Wiggins,” Ichowitz said. “As always, when something looks too good to be true, well you know.”

  “Izz, I hear you, but Wiggins going to the Nooris condo, it just doesn’t feel right. I mean, Larson was going to throw Wiggins under a very big bus. Even though that wasn’t public knowledge, Wiggins knew about the Grand Jury investigation. She had to assume that someone on the inside of her organization was cooperating.”

  “Let’s sleep on it and we can deal with it in the morning. Mrs. Ichowitz is giving me that look. I think she may be getting amorous.”

  Regan could hear Izzy’s wife say, “Dream on, lover boy, and tell Jack he seriously needs to get a life.”

  “Tell Aunt Ida I love her too,” Regan said and hung up.

  Regan turned up the sound on his system. John Coltrane’s “My Favorite Things” was playing. It reminded him of happier times. Susan loved Coltrane. Regan had introduced her to jazz, bringing her along slowly from the basics like Chet Baker, Stan Getz, and Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald renditions of old Cole Porter and Gershwin standards to the avant garde of late Coltrane and everything in between.

  He stared at her picture on the bookshelf and said out loud, “Susan, I miss you.” She had died two years ago, less than six months after her diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. Susan had been a Fellow at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. She knew as soon as the diagnosis had been confirmed that it was a death sentence. Despite her efforts to prepare him for the inevitable, Regan was shocked by the speed with which the illness overcame her.

  SEVEN

  “Chief, you have nothing to worry about,” she said.

>   “Nothing to worry about; my sources tell me there’s going to Inquirer about your fees on the Family Court House deal. The reporters are going to imply that you’re kicking back to me.”

  “Chief, you know that’s bullshit. I haven’t given you a penny of my fees. Listen to me, I know the publisher. He’s scared shitless of me. He knows I’ll sue his ass if he prints a story like that. Just stay calm. I’m sure this is being blown all out of proportion. Let me make some inquiries of my own and I’ll get back to you.”

  Robert S. Fogerty, Chief Justice of the Pennsylvania Supreme Court, was far from reassured by the phone call. He knew from the start that it had been a bad idea to retain Dorothy Wiggins as Special Counsel for the Philadelphia Family Court House project. Because of the favorable press coverage it would garner he agreed to step in to clean up the mess the Philadelphia Court Administration had created after it had wasted nearly a decade and several million dollars in their inept efforts to build a facility to house the Family and Juvenile Court division. Now he sorely regretted following his advisor’s advice.

  His political consultants had assured him this was an issue that would solidify his successful retention in the upcoming election. They told him the process had been so badly botched by the Governor and the local politicians that he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. By retaining Wiggins, Fogerty would also get the support of the union leaders whose memberships would benefit from the multi-million dollar construction project. Wiggins boasted that she could make sure all of them would fall in line. She represented the major construction unions, the Carpenters, Electricians and Laborers. She also represented the municipal employee unions whose membership would benefit once the new court house was built.

  Fogerty went along with his advisors’ recommendations even though he despised the woman. She had done everything in her power to oppose his election to the Supreme Court ten years before. He understood that in politics you needed to be pragmatic and have a short memory; however, he was just not made that way. He had not taken any money from her. Not even legitimate campaign contributions. Not that the stingy bitch ever offered to contribute. Perhaps she was right. If the Inquirer story even suggested that he had received a kickback from Wiggins, it would open itself to a libel suit that could cost the paper millions. Furthermore, any retraction of the allegation would make him appear to be a victim of a biased press and assure his retention.