Mystery Shorts

By Philip Pak

Mystery Shorts is a hilarious collection of stories that combind farce with mystery. Meet a group of offbeat characters that find themselves is absurd situations. Who said murder isn't funny?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Philip Pak
• Release date: Apr 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393229704

Philip Pak

Philip Pak is a retired NYC policeman who grew up in Brooklyn, New York, before it was expensive and trendy. Back then, it was full of colorful characters: pool sharks, bookies, some real and some wanna-be wise guys. A lot of the characters in his stories are based on them. A great deal of time is spent researching poisons and weapons on the internet. Hopefully, the FBI won't be knocking on his door.

Book preview

ARRIVEDERCI BABY

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On a hill overlooking the Gulf of Salerno, on the Amalfi Coast of Italy, stood a man selling lemons. He would gather the lemons from a family orchard, which hung off the side of a steep cliff and sell them from his stand beside The Puccini Dei Marini Hotel. The man was surrounded by beauty, but he no longer saw beauty. Instead, he looked at the tourists who arrived daily to check into this exclusive hotel. He had seen the cliffs and the sea all his life; he took them for granted. The wealthy tourists who visited the hotel marveled at the view. Most lived in luxury apartments that looked out onto bleak city streets. Just the opposite of the lemon man, who lived in a humble shack, surrounded by natural wonders. Every day he would cut up his lemons and offer a taste to the tourists. Some bought; some didn’t. The area produced the largest and sweetest lemons in the world, due to the rich soil and the cool breezes that were trapped between mountain valleys. Chefs from the hotel restaurant regularly bought his lemons. Although they routinely bargained, the price decided on would almost always be the same. The lemons were used for cooking in the Capri restaurant and for homemade limoncello, served in the Green Grotto Bar.

Dewey Phelps was a minor celebrity. He was an ex-New York City detective who received notoriety by being instrumental in breaking up a notorious international drug ring. Because of the large amount of money involved, it made headlines worldwide. A book detailing the case became a number one best seller. Hollywood got in the act by attempting to make a musical of the story. It was about a small Eastern European drug ring, that migrated to America from Slovenia, to become the most profitable in the history of crime. The musical, as well as the hit song, was called ‘Slovenia, I’ll be seein’ ya.‘ Phelps had a small non-singing part as the police commissioner. The critics panned it, but it was a money maker. Phelps retired from the force a rich man. Recently divorced, he decided to take a long vacation. The weather and the scenery brought him to the Amalfi Coast. He walked through the lavish entrance of the Puccini Dei Marini and approached the desk.

Ah, Mr. Phelps a pleasure to have you stay with us. My name is Abramo, and I’m your concierge. I saw your movie; it was great. You look a bit taller on the screen.

Phelps, who was five foot six, was sensitive about his height. He was one of the shortest cops on the force, and often wore shoes with Cuban heels.

Thanks for that. Phelps said sarcastically.

I have you in a special room, with a beautiful view of the sea. I’ll have the bellhop take your luggage.

Phelps followed the bellhop to the second floor. He opened the door to 205 and walked over to the balcony to look out. The view was breathtaking. He tipped the bellhop and proceeded to unpack.

After spending the afternoon resting in his room, Phelps decided to have a drink in the bar before dinner. After all, today was his birthday. He put on a clean shirt, slacks, and a brightly colored sports jacket. Passing through the lobby on the way to the bar, he passed the concierge.

Interesting jacket, Mr. Phelps.

Thanks, Abramo. I’m on my way to the bar, to celebrate my birthday.

Wonderful. How old, may I ask?

Forty-seven.

Funny, I pictured you older.

Excuse me.

What I mean is, you accomplished so much in so few years. May I be the first to wish you a very happy birthday.

Thanks.

There were several open tables in the Green Grotto; Phelps chose one by the window. When the waitress approached, he ordered a Gimlet. Looking around the room he noticed an attractive woman in her fifties with a much younger man. The woman kept staring at him. Her companion’s eyes followed one of the young waitresses as she moved around the room. The waitress was obviously aware of the young man’s presence. She returned his stare with daggers in her eyes. Finally, the older woman, who was staring at Phelps, got up and approached his table.

I hope I’m not disturbing you Sir, but are you Mr. Dewey Phelps?

Yes, I am. How do you do.

I saw you in that musical crime movie. You were great, but I must say I liked the book a lot better. I’m kind of in the same business.

What business is that, Miss..?

Luce Marbles.

Not Luce Marbles, the mystery novelist?

Guilty, as charged. Nice to meet you. I’m on my honeymoon with my new husband, Paolo.

Well, that’s cause for celebration. May I buy you and your husband a drink?

Thank you.

The waitress came over, and Miss Marbles ordered a Campari and Limoncello mixer for herself and ginger ale for her husband.

They have the best limoncello in the world in this part of the country. You should try it. Hate to say it, but it’s my third one today. My poor Paolo has an intolerance for alcohol, so he can’t enjoy it.

Marbles turned to her husband.

Paolo, this gentleman is buying us a drink.

From the other side of the room, Paolo momentarily stopped staring at the waitress and raised his hand in a thank you gesture and smiled. Phelps returned the smile. The waitress brought them their drinks, however when she got to Paolo’s table, she almost slammed his drink down.

I’ve been a fan of yours for years, Ms. Marbles. I spent many a night reading your novels. I just finished your novel about the pizzeria stabbing murders, ‘Death by The Slice.’ So true to life.

"I guess I have a criminal mind. I’ve often wondered if I could pull off a murder that would fool a smart detective like you. But then again, I deal in make-believe.

She looked around the room and sighed.

I love this hotel. I’ve been coming here for more years than I care to count. For me, it’s still magic.

She finished her drink.

Nice meeting you, Mr. Phelps. My Paolo and I have reservations for dinner in the Capri. I’m afraid we have to get going.

A real pleasure meeting you. 

She and her husband got up to leave. They walked through the doorway as Abramo was coming in. Abramo, stopped, stepped aside and stared at Marbles as she passed. Phelps couldn’t help but notice the hate he saw in Abramo’s eyes. Strange. After tossing down the rest of his Gimlet, Phelps decided to take a cab to the town of Positano for dinner and some nightlife.

The following morning, slices of sunlight shone through the slats of the blinds onto Phelps’s bed, awakening him. He didn’t get back to his room until late the previous night. He looked at his watch. 10 o’clock. The Capri was still open for breakfast, and he was hungry. He pulled himself out of bed, showered and dressed quickly. He took the elevator down and hurried through the lobby, passing by Abramo, who always seemed to be working.

Morning, Abramo.

Good morning, Mr. Phelps. Rough night?

Sorry?

What I mean is, there must be plenty of lovely ladies who would love to keep you from getting a good night’s sleep.

Oh, nice of you to say.

He walked into the Capri restaurant; It was his first time there. A little overly ornate, but beautiful views in every direction. He waved to Ms. Marbles and her husband who were finishing their breakfast. He was surprised to see her drinking her Campari and Limoncello at this hour. There were tables available, and he took one. Seated, he watched as a man in a business suit approached Ms. Marbles’ table. They started to talk. Ms. Marbles seemed both annoyed and dismissive. As their conversation continued, the man got louder, angrier and more animated. People started to notice and look in their direction. Phelps heard Marbles reply in a stern voice:

I made my position clear at our last meeting, and that’s that. Now go away.

The business suit, red with anger, shot back:

You’re not going to get away with this! I’ll make sure you pay, and stormed out.

Marbles seemed a bit shaken. Shortly afterward, she and her husband left. Phelps had just enough time to eat breakfast and catch a tour bus to Sorrento, where he spent the rest of the day.

***

Inspector Mario Gotto was a short chubby man, with a shiny black comb-over. Gotto had been with the Amalfi Coast Police for twenty years, and the Puccini Dei Marini was part of his beat. The police were called by the hotel due to the apparent suicide of Ms. Luce Marbles. At about 4 p.m. in the afternoon, after drinking heavily, she started acting strangely. While she and Paolo were in their room she started screaming and waving her hands uncontrollably as if she was hallucinating. Guests on the floor, hearing the commotion, knocked on their door to see what the trouble was. Paolo opened the door just in time for the guests to see Ms. Marbles jump, or fall, from their balcony to the rocky cliffs below. When they were able to get to her, she was dead. Her body was taken to the morgue for an autopsy. Paolo was placed in another room. The room of the incident was sealed until the investigation could be completed.

Phelps had just gotten off the bus from Sorrento when he saw the flashing lights of the ambulance and police cars. He walked over to Abramo who was talking to Inspector Gotto.

What happened, Abramo?

Ms. Marbles committed suicide.

What! I can’t believe it. I was speaking to her yesterday; she seemed so happy.

Yes, it was a shock to everyone.

Abramo turned to face the inspector and gestured towards Phelps.

Inspector Gotto, this is the actor Dewey Phelps.

Detective Phelps, from NYPD?

Yep, that’s me.

I followed that Slovenian Connection case. Nice piece of work. We don’t get anything that big over here.

Yeah, but look around, we don’t get to see scenery like this.

Nice of you to say. I’m not sure what to make of this situation. I know that Ms. Marbles had been coming here for years. It was her place to get away and relax. Quite a shock. One thing’s for sure since Ms. Marbles was famous, I better dot my i’s and cross my t’s on this one. The press is already on it. If there’s anything unusual about this suicide, I’ll keep you posted. Your opinion would be appreciated. I’m afraid I have a lot of paperwork to do, so I’ll be going. Pleasure meeting you, Detective Phelps.

Thanks, nice meeting you.

Gotto left, and Phelps went to bed.

The afternoon sun shone on a patch of sand, which appeared and disappeared depending on the tide. Earlier in the day, Phelps had made his way down the steep staircase that led from the hotel to the bottom of the cliff. He had put the hotel towel on the sand, laid down and fell asleep. He didn’t know how long he was asleep, but he felt a shadow across his face and opened his eyes to see the sun reflect off the black shiny comb-over of Inspector Gotto. His towel was wet from the approaching tide.

Detective Phelps, Abramo said I would find you here. The tides are tricky here. You could go to sleep on the sand, and wake up in the ocean.

Abramo was the one who recommended this spot to me in the first place.

Whatever. Thought you might like to know that the autopsy results are in. Luce Marbles had enough poison in her system to kill her. This is no longer an accident or a suicide. This is murder!

What was the substance?

Atropa belladonna.

What the hell is that?

Juice from a black, shiny, poisonous berry. Also known as deadly nightshade. It has a slightly sweet flavor that people say makes wine taste better. It contains tropane alkaloids which cause dizziness, vomiting, hallucinations and death. Belladonna means beautiful lady. In ancient times, young women used a tiny amount of it to make them look more alluring. It was used to promote pupillary dilation, a proven way to increase attractiveness. Hence the name. After searching her room, we found the substance in the bottles of the Campari and the Limoncello that were kept on her table. Apparently, they were a gift. There was a typed note with the bottles that read ‘For my beautiful author.’

Any prints on the bottles?

Just Ms. Marbles. The bottles were wiped clean before they were packaged.

The note intrigues me, Inspector. It sounds like the murderer admired Marbles and maybe was rejected by her.

Could be a love-hate thing. I know the people who work in this hotel well, and there are at least four people who hated Luce Marbles. I’m going to question them now, and if you’d like, you can accompany me. I’ll be in the hotel’s conference room shortly.

Phelps was dressed and in the conference room of the hotel with Inspector Gotto when the first suspect was summoned. It was none other than Abramo. He nervously took a seat. Gotto began:

Abramo, a lot of the seasoned workers at the hotel, as well as myself, know of the affair you had a few years ago with Ms. Marbles. Why don’t you tell us about it?

You’re right, we did have an affair once, but that’s old news. I was enamored by her looks, but mostly by her wealth and fame. I fell in love with her. I asked her to run away with me, but she told me she would not break up my marriage. I did not want it to go on like this, so I filed for a divorce. My Maria was heartbroken. After the divorce, I told Luce that I was now a free man and we could be together. She told me that she used my marriage as an excuse because she just wanted to have a convenient lover when she stayed at the hotel. She never intended the affair to go any further. She used me. I was so angry I grabbed her by the throat; I wanted to kill her. She pulled away and said: ‘It’s over. From now on, when we meet, remember you’re the staff and I’m the guest. In the future, you’re to address me as Ms. Marbles.’ From then on, I dreaded her visits to the hotel. Seeing her, or even hearing her name, stirred up memories of the insult.

Well, she won’t be visiting again, Abramo. You should be happy about that.

That was a long time ago. If I were to kill her, it would have been then. Right afterward, I tried getting Maria back. I grabbed some flowers from a hotel vase, and I went to see her. True, they were slightly wilted. I said I would be willing to give our marriage another chance. She threw me out. Funny, I never thought of her as the type to carry a grudge.

Interesting. You can go, Abramo, but don’t leave the hotel. 

Are you kidding? I’m here twenty-four seven, anyway.

The next person to be called was the waitress from the Green Grotto Bar, Concetta.

She was an attractive woman in her twenties.

Concetta, it’s no secret that before Paolo married Ms. Marbles, you and Paolo were romantically involved.

That’s none of your business!

Murder makes it my business!

Ok, so we were involved, so what?

I would say that jealousy is a good reason to want someone out of the way. Are you sure you’re telling me everything you know?

She just waved her hand and didn’t answer.

I understand that you were the one who delivered the gift of the poisoned  liquors to Ms. Marbles’ room.

They were on the bar, with the room number on the box, when I arrived at work. I deliver all the packages from the bar to the rooms.

Do you know who the package was from?

I have no idea. Why don’t you ask the Bartender.

I did. He said the package was there when he opened the bar. Do you have anything else to add?

No.

You may go, for now, but don’t leave the grounds.

That’s easy since I live in the basement.

She got up and walked out.

The next person to be questioned was Mel Stoval.

So, Mr. Stoval, I assume you know why you’re here.

My conversation with Ms. Marbles in the Capri restaurant?

From what I heard, it was more like an argument. Witnesses say you threatened her.

It’s true. I lost my temper and said things I regret, but there’s nothing more to it.

Why don’t you tell me what that was about.

Ms. Marbles promised to sign a contract with my publishing company, giving them the sole rights to publish her books, and to handle any movie contracts that resulted from them. She was a big deal in the literary field. Landing this contract was a feather in my cap, and I was given a promotion. She asked me to send her the check for the amount that was verbally agreed upon, and then she’d sign the contract. Usually they sign the contract first, then they get the check, but this was the great Ms. Marbles, so I did what she asked. She kept the check, and then lied about the amount we agreed on. She demanded more money to sign. My firm stopped payment on the check issued. She sued, saying the check was just a down payment and she never received the remaining agreed upon fee. The amount, by the way, was outrageous. Also, it’s illegal to stop payment on a check. My firm had to hire lawyers for the upcoming lawsuit, which meant litigation fees as well as a large settlement. I broke protocol by giving her a check without a signed contract. The whole thing turned out to be a big mess, and I was held responsible. It ruined my career. Also, I’m being sued personally by my firm. I followed her here to try to change her mind about the lawsuit, but she wouldn’t even negotiate with me.

Her death lets you off the hook, Stoval. Am I right?

I don’t know the legalities involved.

You’re going to have to stay in town until this case is solved.

I haven’t got the money to remain here in the hotel. I have to get back to New York.

You’re a person of interest, so I’ll be putting you up temporarily at police headquarters for further questioning.

Stoval was getting worked up, he seemed to have a temper he couldn’t control.

I’m going to contact the American Consulate!

Do as you please, but unless the American Government steps in, you’re coming with me. You can call the Consulate from my office.

An angry Stoval was escorted to a police van.

Paolo was the next to be interviewed. He came in wearing a black shirt with several buttons open exposing a thick gold medallion, black bell bottom pants, black headscarf, and white Armani shoes.

Sorry for your loss. I see you’re taking your wife’s passing hard.

I wanted to throw myself in her grave. I vow to wear black for the rest of my life; except for the shoes, of course. Luce was my everything.

More than Concetta?

What are you getting at?

Concetta has been seen coming and going from your room since your wife’s death.

Leave her out of this!

Hard thing to do, since you two were romantically involved before, and some say after, your marriage. It’s also coincidental that she delivered the box that contained the poisoned liquors that killed your wife. May I ask what you did for a living, Paolo, before you met Ms. Marbles?

Consulting.

Everybody who’s unemployed says that. Some say you were a gigolo.

Just because women pay me to escort them, it doesn’t make me a gigolo.

Actually, according to the dictionary it does. I checked with your late wife’s lawyer. You are the only heir to Ms. Marbles’ estate. She changed her will against her lawyer’s advice. You’re a rich man now.

There was a pause.

Did you kill her, Paolo?

You have nothing on me.

You’re a person of interest, and you’re coming Downtown for further questioning.

Paolo was escorted to the police van and both he and Stoval were taken downtown. Phelps asked Gotto:

Do you think either of those two did it?

I have no idea. Marbles was an international celebrity, and there are reporters all over the place. We have to look like we’re doing something.

Days passed. Inspector Mario Gotto was sitting in his office trying to make some sense of this case. His superiors were breathing down his neck. Tourism was big business here. This was the biggest crime to hit the area in years, and they wanted it over. The desk sergeant stuck his head into Gotto’s office.

Sir, there’s a gentleman here to see you regarding the Marbles case.

Send him in.

A thin weather-beaten man was escorted in. Gotto offered him a seat.

I feel I know you, but I can’t place the face.

Most people look my way but don’t see me. I sell lemons in front of the Puccini Dei Marini Hotel.

Ah yes, the lemon man. What brings you here?

I came to confess, to the murder of Luce Marbles.

Gotto looked puzzled. He wasn’t sure if