Murder and Mayhem in Manayunk Read online

  Fogerty took a long pull on the two inches of Jack Daniels he had poured himself from the bottle he kept in the bottom drawer of his desk and stared at the architect’s drawing of the proposed court house. Wiggins told him the unions would insist on naming the building in his honor. He was only momentarily concerned about the sweet deal he had made on the shore house in Avalon. After all, he had paid for it with his personal funds. Why wasn’t he entitled to use his connections to take advantage of someone’s short sale? He also paid for the renovations with his own funds. The fact that friends had fixed him up with a contractor who needed the work and gave him a good, very good, price was perfectly legal. No one involved had any cases pending before the court. No one could claim with any validity that their actions had garnered them any influence.

  Regan and Ichowitz decided the best way to handle Wiggins was to appear at her office unannounced at the end of the day. According to what Megan Larson had told Regan, Wiggins always returned to her office around 5:30 to see who was still working. God help the associate who went home at a normal quitting time to be with their spouse and children. Wiggins had no life, so why the hell should anyone who worked for her believe they were entitled to one?

  That morning, they attended Megan Larson’s autopsy. Ichowitz was a veteran observer; Regan was not. As they gowned up for the procedure Ichowitz assured his young colleague that there was nothing to be overly concerned about.

  He handed Regan a stick of wintergreen gum. “Chew this while you’re watching. It will help you overcome the nausea.”

  Carlos Delgado, MD, the Chief Medical Examiner and one of his assistants were kibitzing when they arrived. “Dr. Locke, Isadore Ichowitz the famous homicide detective, and Assistant District Attorney John Regan will be witnessing the autopsy. We better be on our toes. We wouldn’t want the Commissioner or the DA to get a negative report.”

  “Mr. Regan, I seem to recall the last time you were here there was an unfortunate incident where you didn’t quite make it out of the theater before you lost your breakfast. I trust you ate a light breakfast this morning.”

  “Dr. Delgado, I haven’t eaten a morsel in two days in anticipation of this morning’s ordeal,” Regan replied.

  “Very well then, let’s proceed.”

  Things went well for about thirty seconds until the ME used the retractors to remove the vital organs and made a horrible discovery.

  “What have we here?” Delgado said reaching both of his hands into the cavity below her sternum.

  “Gentlemen, it appears we have a double homicide on our hands,” he said as he pulled a fully formed fetus from Larson’s uterus. Regan ran out of the room in search of a place to throw up.

  An hour later Ichowitz found him in the locker room, “You all right?”

  Regan nodded.

  “Well, you don’t look so good. I think we need to get you out of here and get some liquids in you. Ginger ale should do the trick. Listen, nothing to be ashamed of, the autopsy room isn’t for everyone. Don’t worry about Delgado and Locke. They promised me they wouldn’t put your abrupt departure out on Facebook or Twitter, or whatever the hell they use to make fun of people today. Besides, I thought we should keep this development to ourselves for the time being.”

  “How many months pregnant was she?” Regan asked.

  “Delgado figures since the fetus was fully formed she was well into her second trimester. They’ll conduct a separate autopsy on the fetus later today. Hey, you’re not going to be sick again are you?”

  After Regan threw up again Ichowitz asked, “I thought you said you hadn’t eaten anything for a couple days?”

  Regan nodded.

  “Well next time, don’t eat for at least a week.”

  The receptionist smiled at Regan as he and Ichowitz entered the suite. The smile vanished the moment Ichowitz flashed his shield and said, “Miss, please tell Ms. Wiggins Detective Ichowitz and Assistant District Attorney Regan are here to see her,” he said.

  “Do you have an appointment to see Ms. Wiggins?”

  “No, but let her know if she refuses to meet with us now, we can make arrangements to see her at the Police Administration Building later this evening.”

  “She’s not going to like this,” the receptionist said with a sigh.

  “We know,” Ichowitz agreed.

  They could hear Wiggins shouting at the receptionist through her headset. The young woman turned beet red. “Yes Ma’am.”

  She stood up and said, “Gentlemen, if you’ll follow me, Ms. Wiggins will join you in our conference room in a few minutes.”

  Wiggins’ law offices were in the Widener Building, across Penn Square from City Hall and a short walk to the Criminal Court House. Recently the Widner Building had undergone extensive renovations in order to reclaim Class A status. The exterior of the building had been sandblasted to restore its original appearance.

  When it was built in 1932, at 472 feet, it was the city’s tallest office tower. In keeping with the city’s unwritten zoning policy, however, it was seventy-six feet shorter than City Hall. It was the headquarters of the Philadelphia National Bank, and for decades the PNB sign at the top of the building could be seen for miles from any direction. As the years passed the bank had been acquired and reacquired by bigger banks and now the Widener Building and City Hall were dwarfed by taller buildings to the west. But if you tried, from certain angles you could still see the PNB sign. And even though the Widener was no longer the tallest office building in the city, none of the new skyscrapers could compete with the fact that the Widener Building housed the largest ringing bell in the world.

  Wiggins’ offices were on the top floor of the Widener Building and commanded an intimate view of the backside of the statue of William Penn, the founder of the City of Brotherly Love, who stood atop City Hall. Regan considered it appropriate that Penn’s derrier was turned in Dorothy Wiggins’ direction.

  “Detective Ichowitz and Mr. Regan, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?” Wiggins said as she entered the conference room.

  “Ms. Wiggins, we’re conducting an investigation of the murder of your former associate, Megan Larson. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right?” Ichowitz said as he pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket.

  “Am I a suspect?” she asked, glaring at them.

  “No,” Ichowitz replied staring back at her.

  “Am I a person of interest?”

  Ichowitz sighed. “No, Ms. Wiggins.”

  “So then, you’re not going to Mirandize me?”

  “No. That is unless you insist,” Ichowitz replied. “Ms. Wiggins, can we cut to the chase here and stop the charade?”

  She nodded.

  “We know you were at the Nooris condo last Friday evening between 5:30 and 6 PM. Can you tell us why you were there and what happened?”

  “I went there to speak with Megan.”

  “What did you and Megan discuss?” Ichowitz asked.

  “Megan had decided to resign from the firm. I went there to try to convince her to stay.”

  Ichowitz wrote down her response and looked up at her. “So the senior partner drives out from Center City to Manayunk on a Friday evening to convince a second year associate to remain with the firm, did I get that right?”

  “Yes detective, despite my reputation, and I am very aware of what people say about me behind my back, I really do care about my staff. We spent a great deal of time training Ms. Larson. She was a talented attorney. I- we - had great plans for her. Her death was tragic.”

  Wiggins wiped a tear from her cheek.

  For the next forty-five minutes Ichowitz questioned Wiggins about the thirty minutes she had spent at the Nooris condo with Larson.

  “Where did you go when you left the condo?” Ichowitz was wrapping up his questions.

  “Back to my office to catch up on my correspondence and emails, and then I went home.”

  “How long were you at your office?”

 
; Wiggins flashed him a dark look, “Detective, I don’t know, a couple of hours. Are we about done here?”

  “Ms. Wiggins, thank you for your time. If you remember anything else about your meeting with Ms. Larson, or anything you think may help our investigation that we may not have covered, here’s my card. You can call me at anytime, day or night.”

  As planned Ichowitz turned to Regan and said, “Jack, do you have any questions of Ms. Wiggins?”

  Regan turned to her and said, “Ms. Wiggins, you were aware that Ms. Larson was scheduled to appear before the grand jury as a witness for the Commonwealth in connection with an investigation that involved your firm and certain of your clients, weren’t you?”

  “I was waiting for one of you to ask me about that,” she said, all the time glaring at Regan.

  Regan stared back at her and said, “Glad we didn’t disappoint you. Will you answer the question?”

  “Yes, I was aware that Megan was scheduled to testify at the Grand Jury.”

  “Then why did you want her to remain with your firm?”

  “Young man, I wasn’t the least bit concerned about her testimony or your investigation. Sometimes young associates like Megan, as bright as she was, don’t fully understand what they have witnessed. Sometimes beautiful young women like Megan are persuaded by handsome young men, like you, and they just want to impress them and agree with what they suggest. I don’t know what Megan told you, or what she believed, in any event, her testimony and your investigation meant nothing to me. It was a waste of time and money. Are we finished now?”

  “For now,” Regan said, and he and Ichowitz got up to leave.

  “Next time, if there is a next time, I expect you will give me the courtesy of call before you barge into my office without an appointment,” she said.

  Ichowitz turned and said, “Ms. Wiggins, this is a murder investigation. If we need to talk with you again we’ll be back, with as much notice, if any, as we can provide.”

  As they left the Widener Building Ichowitz turned to Regan and said, “Quite a performance don’t you think?”

  Regan shook his head. “You sure the Comcast tech was telling you the emess?”

  “I am.” Ichowitz replied.

  “Well, I’m not saying Wiggins was the doer, but, I’m not buying that line of crap she was laying down up there. We had a solid case against her with Megan Larson’s testimony, and there was no way Megan was going to stay with the Dragon Lady either. What’s next?”

  Ichowitz looked at his watch. “It’s seven o’clock. I’m hungry. Let’s grab some dinner and see if we can find Avi Nooris. I think it’s time we had a chat.”

  “Good idea, I’m feeling weak after my autopsy upheaval. Since Avi lives in Manayunk, let’s stop at the Grape and get dinner there.”

  “Jack, I know O’Malley’s your pal and all, but the food there stinks.”

  “Izz, the Grape’s got a new chef. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  “Now the new chef wouldn’t happen to be the soccer mom from Ireland?”

  “Yes Kate O’Malley is Liam’s mother.”

  “In that case, I think the Grape’s a great idea,” the big detective said and smiled at Regan.

  The bar at the Grape Tavern was packed when Regan and Ichowitz arrived. Regan waved to Mike O’Malley. “Mike, have you extended the Happy Hour?” he asked.

  O’Malley shook his head. “Would ya look at this crowd, bunch of yuppies! They chased the regulars away,” he said with a sneer. “Do ya see that young woman over there?” he pointed to an attractive woman dressed in the new style, leotards under a very short and tight mini skirt. She had blue hair all spiked up, a rose tattoo on her neck, and face- piercings on her eye brows and nose.

  “She ordered a cosmo. I told her we don’t serve those kinda drinks here. She says, ‘Pops, let me show you how to mix a cosmo.’ She goes behind the bar and mixes up some foul-smelling pinkish drink. Next thing I know all the women at the bar are askin for cosmos.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think I hired a new bartender, Melody Schwartz, a girl with blue hair and a tattoo for Christ sake! I’m sure the girl’s poor mother must be havin a fit! But after all, she knows how to mix a drink, and at twelve bucks a pop it seemed like a good move. Only thing is I’ve run out of one of the fancy liquors that she uses for these concoctions. So we’re sellin them as cosmo-lites and only charging nine bucks,” he said and laughed.

  “Mike, do you have a table for Izzy and me?”

  “Come this way. We can let the yuppies wait.”

  When they were seated Izzy said, “This ain’t your uncle Joe’s Grape.”

  Regan nodded. His uncle Joe, his father’s older brother, had been on the force for thirty-five years. Regan moved in with his uncle when he went to law school at Penn. When Uncle Joe was diagnosed with Alzheimer disease, Regan became his principal caregiver. Joe loved the Grape and Regan brought him there as often as possible. When Joe passed away, he left the house on Cotton Street and an abiding affection for the Grape, to his nephew.

  As was his custom Ichowitz always took the seat with his back to the wall. After all he was the one with the gun, so he liked to see what was coming his way, just in case. Ichowitz smiled as a young woman emerged from the kitchen and approached them. Jack turned and saw Kate O’Malley.

  “I guess the word got out that the Grape has a new chef. Kate O’Malley, meet Izzy Ichowitz,” Regan said.

  She reached out and shook the detective’s hand, “Pleased to meet ya,” she said.

  “I met your son the other day. He’s quite a soccer player. And I can see where he got his good looks,” Ichowitz said.

  She blushed.

  “Besides, my young friend here hasn’t stopped talking about your fish and chips. I think you made quite an impression on him.”

  Now Regan was blushing.

  “Well, I’m glad about that. It’s a shame we’re all out of the fish and chips, but I think you might fancy the Shepherd’s Pie. I’m told it goes down well with a pint of Harp,” she said.

  “We’ll have to pass on the Harp for now. Izzy, Detective Sergeant Isadore Ichowitz, is still on duty, and he and I have another interview to conduct this evening.”

  “Well, if it’s not too late, maybe you can stop by for a nightcap. Anyway, let me get the two of you some dinner.”

  When she went back to the kitchen, Ichowitz said, “That is one beautiful soccer mom. And you say she can cook too!” He looked past Regan at the entrance to the pub and said, “Jack, I think that Courtney Wells and some of her friends just came in. Didn’t I see the two of you all over the Inquirer’s society page this weekend?”

  “Jack! Uncle Izzy!” Courtney said and waved at them. She approached their table and said, “The girls and I heard the Grape has a new chef, we figured we’d find out what the buzz was all about.”

  She hugged Jack and kissed his cheek and then embraced Ichowitz and said, “I haven’t seen you in forever. You’re still the most handsome Detective in the Philadelphia Homicide Division!”

  “I bet you say that to all the Homicide Detectives,” Ichowitz replied.

  At that moment Kate O’Malley approached the table with a steaming plate of Shepherd’s Pie in each hand.

  Regan said, “Courtney Wells, meet Kate O’Malley, the Grape’s new chef, the one everyone is buzzing about.”

  Kate put the plates down on the table, wiped her hand on the towel at her waist and extended her hand to Courtney. Courtney gave her a perfunctory shake and said, “Nice to meet you,” and turned her back to Kate. “Jack, Izzy, I’ll let you two enjoy your dinner, before it gets cold.” She hugged Ichowitz again, and then she turned to Regan and said, “Jack, your mother asked me to drive you to the Broad Street Run this Sunday. I’ll pick you up at 6AM. Is that OK?”

  “Sure, I guess. Court, it’s really not necessary. I mean it’s awfully early, I can drive over myself.”

  “No, it�
��s not a problem. Besides, I’ll get to see you in those sexy running shorts,” she said and then she embraced him and kissed him on the lips.

  “The Shepherd’s Pie looks delicious Ms. O’Malley,” she said as she walked away.

  Kate’s face turned scarlet and she glared at Wells’ back and said, “Well, I have to get back to the kitchen, gentlemen. I hope you enjoy your dinners,” and then she abruptly turned and walked away.

  Ichowitz looked at Regan and said, “Oy-vey boychik, you got truris, very serious truris.”

  Regan shrugged his shoulders, opened his palms and asked, “What was that all about?”

  “Courtney thinks something is going on between you and Ms. O’Malley, and Ms. O’Malley thinks something is going on between you and Courtney, and apparently neither thinks very much of the other.”

  “But Izz, there really isn’t anything going on. I mean, I don’t think there is, at least not yet. I think… I don’t know what I think.”

  “Doesn’t matter what you think,” Ichowitz said as he took a forkfull of the Shepherd’s Pie.

  He smiled and said, “This is fantastic. Eat up before it gets cold. Don’t worry about the girls. You’ll figure it out.”

  Regan sat there and stared at his food; he had suddenly lost his appetite.

  EIGHT

  They found Avi Nooris at Studs, the restaurant and bar that he and his brother Ari, actually his half-brother, owned at the other end of Main Street. Their father had divorced Ari’s mother and married a trophy wife, Avi’s mother. Avi was standing at the bar with his arm draped around the shoulders of a young woman, who looked to Regan to be underage. Avi Nooris was an imposing physical specimen, six foot five, two hundred twenty pounds of sculpted muscle. He was handsome, swarthy, with Semitic features.