Jay Dubya's "Coarse Code Communication" is an FBI Inspector Joe Giralo detective tale that is now in the 25 story Kindle, Nook and Smashwords e-book "The FBI Inspector."
“Coarse Code Communication”
At noon on the last day of winter in 2012 FBI Inspector Joe Giralo had summoned his three prime agents, Salvatore Velardi, Arthur Orsi and Dan Blachford into his eighth floor office inside the relatively nondescript 600 Arch St. Federal Building, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The three commuting Hammonton, New Jersey entrants soon discovered their preoccupied supervisor sitting rather comfortably in his soft leather swivel chair, which was located behind his huge Canadian oak desk. The Chief’s pupils had been intensely focused on the last chapter of a newly purchased Nancy Drew girls’ novel. Inspector Giralo’s eyes promptly glanced-up and recognized the presence of the all-too-familiar new arrivals.
“Sit down Guys and make yourselves feel right at home! You know Boys,” Chief Giralo prefaced his typically confident salutation as his G-men parked their individual posteriors into three black leather office chairs conveniently situated on the opposite side of the impressive oak desk, “this book title was the first novel my wife ever read, actually assigned for a sixth grade book report. This imaginative adventure in my hands inspired Gina so much that I’ve picked-up a copy at the local Barnes and Noble for my youngest daughter to read.”
“Boss,” Agent Velardi blurted-out and excitedly stated, “on the drive from Hammonton to the Lindenwold High Speed Line the three of us stopped at the Dunkin’ Donuts on Route 30 in Atco. The neurotic guy standing in front of us was acting real belligerent, having a regular counter fit yelling at the shocked cashier, who had accidentally given the petulant jerk the wrong doughnut bag. Then I decided to intervene in the loud mounting argument and…”
“And you whipped-out your FBI badge and threatened to have the antagonistic fellow arrested on the spot,” Agent Orsi added. “And as soon as that sudden interaction occurred…”
“The out-of-control loudmouth amazingly calmed-down and quickly and objectively evaluated his situation, politely apologized to the distraught freckle-faced girl behind the counter and then speedily left the premises with the correct order in his possession,” Agent Blachford accurately finished.
“Well Salvatore, I’m glad you badgered the wise guy instead of coming here and badgering me,” slightly embarrassed Joe Giralo jested as the fearless leader self-consciously placed the Nancy Drew novel upon his expensive-looking desk. “And I must commend you three loyal government employees for expertly cracking-open the Tri-State Lottery Fraud Case. I’ve always argued that people should all have land-line answering machines that screen incoming calls, and then the astute residents should habitually ignore the ones that are not originating from trustworthy friends and family.”
“You’re right on that count Boss!” Sal Velardi summarily agreed. “Pennsy’, Delaware and Jersey were all affected by the commonplace, sophomoric scheme we had investigated. And if I may add, even several gullible Hammonton citizens were caught off-guard and brazenly scammed, and the naïve dupes easily gave the nefarious callers their private bank account numbers so that the non-existent sweepstakes’ jackpot money could be fictitiously transferred into the fooled victims’ personal checking and savings accounts.”
“Yes Boss,” Agent Orsi spoke-up and concurred with Agent Velardi. “The six slippery swindlers are now incarcerated awaiting official federal charges. We had traced their wily scheme to certain phone lines being utilized in the Bahamas, and when the six unwary perpetrators boarded a flight from Nassau to Philly’, our reliable response team corralled the vile villains while the wicked weasels were nonchalantly passing through airport customs. The half-dozen imbeciles were en route to the Quaker City…”
“To attend an international championship soccer game between Bermuda and the Bahamas being played at Citizens Bank Park,” Agent Blachford completed his vociferous colleague’s lengthy sentence. “It’s truly amazing how something remote like a big soccer game could cause regular avid-fan criminals’ to forget everything else in their wrongful lives and then get themselves’ carelessly arrested. Say Boss,” Dan Blachford resumed his constructive commentary, “why have you summoned the three of us to your office? Do ya’ want us to read, study and then write Sunday newspaper reviews of archaic Nancy Drew novels?”
Not paying sufficient attention to Dan Blachford’s annoying drivel, Inspector Giralo inhaled a deep breath and next divulged to his G-men the following oddball narrative, stating that he was a good friend of Hammonton Police Chief Ken Mortellite. An anonymous customer shopping at Canal’s Liquors in the town’s Blueberry Ridge Shopping Center had several pieces of folded-up computer paper drop-out of his coat pocket before hastily paying his bill. Several minutes later, Anthony Guerere, the store’s partner/owner, found the two printed papers and immediately showed the odd-looking documents to off-duty Police Sergeant Ed Slimm, who had been in the establishment purchasing a bag of pretzels along with lottery tickets. Being fairly intrigued with the obvious coarse code communications exhibited on the two sheets, the next morning Sergeant Slimm turned the suspicious information over to Police Chief Mortellite, who had been instantly perplexed by the weird nomenclature, so the top cop next presented the strangely configured language over to Inspector Joe Giralo for his professional FBI interpretation.
“Wasn’t the liquor store patron caught on the business’s surveillance cameras?” Sal Velardi asked.
“Yes, but apparently,” Joe Giralo carefully qualified his reply, “the overanxious fellow was not a town resident, and so his face was non-recognizable to the local authorities. Chief Mortellite speculates that the guy was from somewhere else and was just passing through Hammonton on his way to an unknown destination.”
“What about shopping center surveillance cameras outside the liquor store?” Agent Orsi requested knowing. ‘They’re operating 24/7 around the clock.”
“Great thinking Arty,” congratulated the FBI Boss. “The person of interest’s license number was identified and his car’s toll transponder signals showed that his red 2010 Ford Taurus had entered the New Jersey Turnpike at Exit 7 at Bordentown and then left the highway at Woodbridge, Exit 11, where the auto’ then traveled northwest along the Garden State Parkway. The vehicle passed through one EZ Pass toll plaza at the I-280 Interchange. That’s the last electronic monitoring we could trace of the Ford Taurus, since that red car had recently been reported stolen from a Vineland auto repair shop! Here’s a distant photo’ of the punk entering his Taurus that had been taken from the liquor store’s rooftop camera.”
“Why that’s the same knave who had been harassing the girl at the Atco Dunkin’ Donuts!” Agent Velardi exclaimed. “If only I knew then what I know now, I would’ve gotten the Waterford Township cops to take the nasty knucklehead into custody.”
“Well then,” inquired Agent Art Orsi, “what’s so mysterious about the terminology appearing on the two folded-up sheets of paper? I’m a bit befuddled by it all. What makes you and Chief Mortellite suspicious of anything?”
“The names represented on the two separate sheets are familiar Hammonton first names and surnames too,” the Inspector revealed to his colleagues, “but the basic problem is that since the obnoxious guy who had inadvertently lost the two pieces of papers in the liquor store is from out of town, my first reaction question is, ‘Why are the litany of names typical Hammonton ones’?”
“Do you mean mostly Italian names found in the local telephone directory?” a surprised Dan Blachford inquired. “As we all know, Hammonton is 54% Italian, mostly Sicilian, and it’s the community with the highest percentage of bona fide Italian population in the entire country!”
Noticing the concern and intrigue that was evident upon his agents’ faces, Chief Joe Giralo gingerly opened his desk drawer, reached inside and then distributed four stapled copies of the aforementioned two Xeroxed pages to his now-fascinated investigators, who immediately studied the first series of names on the initial sheet, which instantly suggested to each examiner an unsophisticated coded message.
“Umosella, Quincy, Young, Ulysses, Austin, Ingrid, Granato, Charles, Noto, Kristen, Raffa, Zoe, Ingemi, Edward, Olivo, Larry, Fichetola, Daniel, Carrelli, Aaron.
Testa, Peter, Olivo, Larry, Ingemi, Edward, Carelli, Aaron, Vaccarella, Samuel, Ingemi, Edward, Pagano, Rebecca, Ingemi, Edward, Carrelli, Aaron, Fictetola, Daniel, Watson, Megan, Carrelli, Aaron, Pagano, Rebecca, Noto, Kristen, Xeno, Thomas, Jacobs, Wanda, Carrelli, Aaron, Austin, Ingrid, Quinn, Nick, Carrelli, Aaron, Quinn, Nick, Fichetola, Daniel, Santelli, Ollie, Danks, Hilda, Ingemi, Edward, Quinn, Nick, Pagano, Rebecca, Baglivo, Yolanda, Hiltwine, Barbara, Santelli, Ollie, Santelli, Ollie, Noto, Kristen, Vaccarella, Samuel, Austin, Ingrid, Danks, Hilda, Carrelli, Aaron, Fichetola, Daniel, Vaccarella, Samuel, Ingemi, Edward, Quinn, Nick, Xeno, Thomas.
Pagano, Rebecca, Ingemi, Edward, Carrelli, Aaron, Fichetola, Daniel, Granato, Charles, Danks, Hilda, Carrelli, Aaron, Pagano, Rebecca, Olivo, Larry, Ingemi, Edward, Vaccarella, Samuel, Olivo, Larry, Young, Ulysses, Xeno, Thomas, Jacobs, Wanda, Austin, Ingrid, Fictetola, Daniel, Morano, Glenn, Ingemi, Edward, Fichetola, Daniel, Santelli, Ollie, Fichetola, Daniel, Morano, Glenn, Vaccarella, Samuel, Santelli, Ollie, Quinn, Nick, ‘ Vaccarella, Samuel, Carrelli, Aaron, Olivo, Larry, Austin, Ingrid, Granato, Charles, Ingemi, Edward, Austin, Ingrid, Quinn, Nick, Jacobs, Wanda, Santelli, Ollie, Quinn, Nick, Fichetola, Daniel, Ingemi, Edward, Pagano, Rebecca, Olivo, Larry, Carrelli, Aaron, Quinn, Nick, Fichetola, Daniel, Xeno, Thomas, Santelli, Ollie, Santelli, Ollie.
Lancetta, Xavier, Ingemi, Edward, Pagano, Rebecca, Santelli, Ollie, Lancetta, Xavier, Zucconi, Frank, Pagano, Rebecca, Austin, Ingrid, Fichetola, Daniel, Carrelli, Aaron, Baglivo, Yolanda.”
“Please observe Fellas’,” Inspector Giralo firmly indicated, “that the 8.5 X 11 inch paper sheets have been cut-down to 8.5 X 8”, meaning that the e-mail source addresses have been deliberately eliminated, both top and bottom. Also Fellas’, the punctuation marks in the body of the memo’ signify pauses with one semi-colon and one apostrophe along with two periods present; of course, not counting the period at the text’s end.”
“This cute little puzzle should be easy as pie for us to decipher,” Agent Velardi boldly claimed. “It follows a definite pattern of last name preceding first name, all oddly implemented consecutively throughout the whole message. At initial glance, the sequencing of the first letters of the first names seems to be the more logical method of approach.”
“Correct Sal!” Agent Orsi reflexively verified. “Quincy, Ulysses, Ingrid, Charles and Kristen indeed spell the word ‘quick’. The solution key to this simple cryptogram is in the first letters of the first names and not with any distracting letters shown in the corresponding surnames.”
“But although the last names pertain to folks now living in Hammonton,” Agent Blachford perceptively noted, “the complete names are all fictitious people. For example, I know Pete Santelli and Mike Santelli but I don’t know an Ollie Santelli.”
“And I’m well-acquainted with Anthony, Rocky and Ralph Morano but I’m unaware of any town person named Glenn Morano,” Agent Orsi confirmed. “And I also know Bill and Helen Pagano but certainly no woman named Rebecca Pagano.”
“This name riddle ought to constitute no significant intellectual challenge because the vowels ‘a, e, i, o, and u’ are probably the most commonly used letters,” Agent Blachford ascertained, “so then the most frequently used first names would plausibly correlate to those five repetitious most frequent letters.”
“Okay Men, the e-mail authors must have some definite connection with Hammonton. Your’ immediate assignment is to concisely figure-out the hidden message concealed on the first page,” Joe Giralo explicitly directed, “but when you get to scrutinizing the all-important second sheet return e-mail, you’ll realize that the same Hammonton names are cleverly reversed in familiar ordinary fashion, first names followed by second surnames.”
“I can’t wait to scribble-down the peculiar particulars of this interesting but rather amateurish coded message. Are there any other pertinent instructions for us to consider Boss?” a now-motivated Agent Velardi wanted to know.
“Yes Salvatore! Watch the Sci-fi and History Channel programs showing Nevada’s Area 51 to fully learn the advanced technologies employed in space aliens’ UFOs,” Inspector Giralo replied and then indulgently laughed. “I believe you’ll have to employ some heavy-duty reverse engineering during your message dissecting.”
“Real funny Chief,” Velardi indignantly volleyed back. “Anything else of vital relevance you have to recommend?”
“Indeed Salvatore,” affirmed a still-chuckling Joe Giralo. “Tonight you can cook for yourself a can of hardy alphabet soup on your kitchen stove and then closely examine the floating letters that will surface to the top of your bowl. The vowels and consonants might actually form the exact words you’re searching for! When you complete your research, you’ll truly be an erudite ‘Man of Letters’!”
“When shall we meet again to discuss our findings?” asked a more rational Agent Orsi. “I hope it’s at a Bellevue Avenue eatery.”
“We’ll again gather tomorrow night at 7 p.m. at Marcello’s Restaurant,” Chief Giralo announced. “I’ll call Marco or Tony on the horn and arrange to have the place’s side room available for our cozy little FBI conference.”
*************
The four federal men were cordially escorted into the vacant side room of Marcello’s Restaurant, 225 Bellevue Avenue, soon ordered a Sicilian pizza and large Cokes, collectively discussed the Phillies mediocre spring training record down in Clearwater, Florida and then after devouring their allotted pizza slices and soft drinks, the foursome finally orally addressed the bizarre coded name list that Inspector Giralo theorized had some indispensable connection to specific crime waves being egregiously conducted in the West, in the Mid-West and also along the East Coast.
"Before I obtain your research findings on the two e-mails,” the Boss began his introductory exposition, “first and foremost I want to say that Matt Riley down at DC headquarters and I have surmised that this seemingly innocuous set of loosely encrypted e-mails might be associated with some highly illicit felonious activity that’s been maliciously transpiring all over the nation. Now then,” Joe Giralo continued his prologue with great emphasis, “I’ve taken adequate time to have all of the previously noticed Hammonton names re-organized into regular alphabetical order, first names first, and next, alphabetical last names in standard order to make it easier for us to relate to the already-given material being considered.”
The on-a-mission Chief next slowly opened his black attache case and meticulously disseminated four copies of the two parallel separate columned first and surname sections that he had prepared, and the four federal men took several quiet minutes to pensively review, assess and recollect all of the names in strict alphabetical order from A to Z, all twenty-six letters being efficiently covered.
Alphabetical Order
First Names/Last Names
1) Aaron
Austin
2) Barbara
Baglivo
3) Charles Carrelli
4) Daniel
Danks
5) Edward
Elliott
6) Frank Fichetola
7) Glenn
Granato
8) Hilda Hiltwine
9) Ingrid
Ingemi
10) Juliet
Jacobs
11) Kristen
Keenan
12) Larry Lancetta
13) Megan
Morano
14) Nick
Noto
15) Ollie
Olivo
16) Peter
Pagano
17) Quincy
Quinn
18) Rebecca
Raffa
19) Samuel Santelli
20) Thomas
Testa
21) Ulysses Umosella
22) Veronica Vaccarella
23) Wanda
Watson
24) Xavier
Xeno
25) Yolanda
Young
26) Zoe
Zucconi
“Inspector,” Agent Velardi anxiously piped-up, “there’s only one full name on this new combination alphabetical list that I’m acquainted with and that’s Frank Fichetola. This name listing must be a freak coincidence because Frank is a retired gym teacher and successful high school football coach with an impeccable reputation. As far as I’m inclined to believe, everyone else on the weird straight-alphabetical list is an imaginary person!”
“Sal’s absolutely right Boss!” Art Orsi endorsed his comrade’s astute remark. “I’m also familiar with all of the last names on the paper but from experience, I can only relate to Frank Fichetola.”
"Ditto!” blustered Dan Blachford. “Frank Fichetola is beyond one iota of suspicion! I’ll vouch for his character and integrity any day of the week!”
“Well Fellas’,” Inspector Giralo verbally concluded, “let’s see the hidden messages in the first e-mail sample that the forgetful guy at the liquor store had accidentally lost. Sal, why don’t you read the result of your findings?”
“Quick Zelda. Please read Mark Twain and O. Henry books I had sent. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson’s Alice in Wonderland too!” Velardi flawlessly recited.
“Gentlemen, I just fathomed something salient. I conjecture that there’s some obscure secret message cloaked inside the seemingly superficial general literary sentence structure,” Inspector Giralo cited and affirmed. “Please comprehend that all three given names provided so far are pseudonym substitutes for the authors’ real birth names. This new coincidental element certainly requires additional contemplation and due diligence on our part.”
“Three unique pen names!” acknowledged Agent Velardi. “That’s pretty extraordinary! If your hairy hypothesis still swimming about in your colossal mind is true Boss, then we could be dealing with something more sinister, more formidable and more surreptitious than we had originally thought!”
“Let’s now abandon our dialogue regarding the first e-mail addressed to Zelda. Before we proceed to any further deductions, let’s momentarily ponder the exact contents of the second return e-mail that’s clandestinely addressed to Zeke,” the Chief strongly recommended. “That intelligent process ought to alleviate the amount of clutter currently clogging our limited minds! If you remember,” Joe Giralo pontificated, “this time the names are deliberately reversed into ordinary literate order: the first name followed by the second or surname, which realistically should be easier for us to understand and interpret. Now let’s make some practical sense out of all this seemingly meaningless gibberish.”
The four men meticulously gazed-down at their individual copies of the second encrypted e-mail, which read:
“Quincy Umosella, Ulysses Young, Ingrid Austin, Charles Granato, Kristen Noto, Megan Watson, Yolanda Baglivo, Peter Testa, Aaron Carrelli, Larry Olivo, Zoe Raffa, Edward Ingemi, Kristen Noto, Edward Ingemi.
Yolanda Baglivo, Ollie Santelli, Ulysses Young, Rebecca Pagano, Edward Ingemi, Aaron Carrelli, Daniel Fichetola, Frank Zucconi, Rebecca Pagano, Aaron Carrelli, Nick Quinn, Kristen Noto, Larry Olivo, Ingrid Austin, Nick Quinn, Wanda Jacobs, Daniel Fichetola, Ingrid Austin, Xavier Lancetta, Ollie Santelli, Nick Quinn, Barbara Hiltwine, Ollie Santelli, Ollie Santelli, Kristen Noto, Nick Quinn, Ollie Santelli, Wanda Jacobs, Ingrid Austin, Nick Quinn, Thomas Xeno, Hilda Danks, Edward Ingemi, Megan Watson, Aaron Carrelli, Ingrid Austin, Larry Olivo.
Aaron Carrelli, Nick Quinn, Daniel Fichetola, Rebecca Pagano, Edward Ingemi, Aaron Carrelli, Daniel Fichetola, Larry Olivo, Aaron Carrelli, Ulysses Young, Rebecca Pagano, Aaron Carrelli, Larry Olivo, Edward Ingemi, Edward Ingemi, Hilda Danks, Ollie Santelli, Peter Testa, Edward Ingemi, ‘ Samuel Vaccarella, Glenn Morano, Ollie Santelli, Ollie Santelli, Daniel Fichetola, Wanda Jacobs, Ollie Santelli, Rebecca Pagano, Kristen Noto, Thomas Xeno, Hilda Danks, Edward Ingemi, Barbara Hiltwine, Ollie Santelli, Barbara Hiltwine, Barbara Hiltwine, Samuel Vaccarella, Edward Ingemi, Yolanda Baglivo, Thomas Xeno, Wanda Jacobs, Ingrid Austin, Nick Quinn, Samuel Vaccarella, Aaron Carrelli, Nick Quinn, Daniel Fichetola, Samuel Vaccarella, Hilda Danks, Ingrid Austin, Rebecca Pagano, Larry Olivo, Edward Ingemi, Yolanda Baglivo, Juliet Keenan Aaron Carrelli, Charles Granato, Kristen Noto, Samuel Vaccarella, Ollie Santelli, Nick Quinn, Barbara Hiltwine, Ollie Santelli, Ollie Santelli, Kristen Noto, Thomas Xeno, Ollie Santelli, Ollie Santelli.”
“Boss, now that my strained mind’s fully absorbed the essence of this totally idiotic moronic message,” Agent Velardi instinctively communicated, “and quite candidly, I must admit that it’s totally primitive English garbage in both design and substance.”
"Maybe Salvatore, but maybe not,” Joe Giralo wisely cautioned his rambunctious disciple. “Let’s strive to exercise prudent discipline and discretion while systematically attacking the basic issue at hand. For all we know, Zeke and Zelda might be accomplished, dangerous reprehensible co-conspirators.”
“Can I volunteer disclosing the return e-mail’s statement?” Agent Orsi courteously asked during a rare moment of silence. “If you give me the opportunity Boss, I assure you, my vivid translation won’t disappoint anyone!”
“Okay hot shot,” Dan Blachford cynically remarked to his close friend. “What do you think the return e-mail says?”
“Quick pal Zeke. You read Franklin W. Dixon book now in the mail and Laura Lee Hope’s good work Bobbsey Twins and Shirley Jackson’s book too,” Agent Orsi contributed his keen rendition. “But Boss, I’m completely stymied. What does all of this accumulative nonsensical jargon mean? It sounds so ridiculous, so bewildering that perhaps some silly-headed giddy seventh graders have composed these two preposterous missives.”
“The true message Arty means that serious crimes are in progress as we speak,” grim-faced Inspector Giralo swiftly determined and expressed. “It’s a good thing I learned something academic in my two college literature classes. If you concentrate on the subject at hand, four distinct pen names are provided to us as valuable clues inside the letter clues: Samuel Langhorne Clemens is Mark Twain, William Sydney Porter is O. Henry, Lewis Carroll is Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, Franklin W. Dixon is a conglomeration of many different authors over the decades, the first writer being a fellow named Leslie McFarlane, and finally, Laura Lee Hope is an eccentric gender pseudonym for a fellow named Edward Stratemeyer.”
“Why would a man use a female name as his own pen name?” wondered and asked Sal Velardi. “It just doesn’t seem logical for a dignified male actively living and writing in the early 20th Century!”
“Probably because the Bobbsey Twins book was exclusively written for the enjoyment of girls,” Joe Giralo guessed and explained, “and Salvatore, since no reader back then really was aware of the author’s true persona, the public presumed that Laura Lee Hope was an authentic reclusive woman author. And Fellas’, I remember reading Silas Marner in high school penned by George Eliot, who honestly happened to be a proud woman named Ann Evans living in the pre-Victorian 1800s, a highly structured time period when book writing and publishing was almost strictly a man’s domain.”
“Holy moly!” articulated an impressed Art Orsi. “I had read Franklin W. Dixon’s Hardy Boy novels from fifth to eighth grade. My favorite one was The Secret of the Old Mill, which incidentally got me’ steered in the direction of career law enforcement. But truthfully,” Agent Orsi graciously admitted, “I had never known that the writer’s pen name was actually a composite of many authors producing Hardy Boys’ works over many decades.”
"Well then, I’m still a trifle confused!” confessed Dan Blachford. “How does Shirley Jackson fit into the complicated equation? I mean, I’m somewhat familiar with her famous short story ‘The Lottery’, but other than that relationship, what’s her special involvement in this bizarre ever-evolving code-sending scenario?”
“That elusive missing piece to this prolific jigsaw puzzle you’ve just cited is for us four sleuths to find out,” Inspector Joe Giralo confided. “After you determined Lawmen fully finish celebrating the March vernal equinox, we’ll assemble again on Thursday night at Bruni’s Pizzeria for another extra-thick tomato and cheese pie feast. I’ll call Rick Collini and reserve a table for four in the far back corner. Be there at 6:30 p.m. sharp! I’ll also collaborate on the phone with Matt Riley on any emerging developments germane to this rather fairly frustrating e-mail code-cracking case.”
“If those two absurd e-mails had been sent from a college fraternity,” laughed Sal Velardi, “then the crazy organization’s real title should be ‘Signa Phi Nothing’!”
“Stop being so repulsively redundant Salvatore!” the mercurial-tempered Chief reprimanded. “I’ve heard you say that stupid asinine quip at least five times before. Now I want you three detectives to get very serious about pursuing and exploiting the embedded coded messages that are slickly concealed inside the rudimentary surface coded messages!”
*************
On Thursday evening at precisely 6:30 p.m. the four Hammonton FBI men informally met in the rear parking lot of Bruni’s Pizzeria, 303 12th Street. After casually sauntering into the popular eating establishment via the back door entrance, the quartet was immediately greeted by Rick Collini, who then deftly listened-to and jotted-down the hungry gentlemen’s standard large Cokes and extra-thick double tomato and cheese pie order.
Sitting in the side back corner of the pizzeria, Sal Velardi insisted that the G-men should endeavor having a dinner at nearby Illiano’s and also a breakfast at the Pine Crest Inn over on the Black Horse Pike in neighboring Folsom once the “Coarse Code Communication Case” had become authentic FBI history. “Maybe we can get some essential assistance from your Aunt Chovy,” Velardi innocently joked to his eminent Boss, humorously referring to the customary Italian pizza topping.
"That won’t be necessary!” Inspector Giralo whispered across the corner round table, restively waiting for a fellow customer receiving a huge carry-out order to pay the cashier and rapidly leave the premises. “Thanks to you Salvatore and also to revered Shirley Jackson, to Mark Twain, to O. Henry, to Franklin W. Dixon, to Alice in Wonderland and to the Bobbsey Twins too, Matt Riley’s team down in DC and I have creatively integrated our synergies and we’ve competently solved the notorious national crime wave that’s been operating with impunity for the past half year. Tomorrow morning we head up to North Jersey and we’ll participate in a grand arrest to be enacted not far from the George Washington Bridge.”
The jaws of Agents Velardi, Orsi and Blachford nearly dropped off their chins when their disbelieving ears had discerned the dramatic information. The trio then aggressively begged their furtive Boss for much-anticipated clarification of the complex matter.
“As you Guys know, my family has various relatives buried in all three town cemeteries,” the Inspector very oddly answered, “some of them in Oak Grove over on Route 30, some of them in Greenmount on First Road and the others having their graves in the adjacent Catholic Cemetery.”
“Were you busy yesterday having séances with your dead ancestors?” asked a rather addled Art Orsi. “Please Chief’, try to be more coherent and precise in your opaque explanation. Your perpetual evasiveness is being perceived as rather distressful to the three of us!”
"As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” Giralo mildly chastised Agent Orsi, “I was driving at a snail’s pace around the graveyard asphalt roads when I started noticing and began reading the assorted engraved names on the myriad tombstones: particularly the designations Porter, Dixon, Langhorne, Carroll, Jackson and Lee. Then it all registered and miraculously synthesized as a remarkable flash of knowledge inside my thick skull!”
“What did?” demanded Blachford. “Was it raining inside your cerebrum and were you suddenly having a massive brainstorm? Tell us all about this supernatural miracle event! Are you intentionally being devious and facetious?”
Disregarding his alert agent’s weak attempt at sit-down comedy, Inspector Giralo proceeded to reveal that when Sal Velardi had mentioned that the guy who had inadvertently left the two folded sheets of names at Canal’s Liquors also was the same idiot who had gone ballistic at the shocked girl at the Atco Dunkin’ Donuts, then the entire big phenomenal picture incredibly came into focus.
“What big picture!” vehemently exclaimed Agent Velardi, whose boisterous response momentarily got the whole attention of temporarily distracted Rick Collini, who almost had his airborne pizza dough land squarely upon his’ lowered noggin. “What big picture?” the engrossed agent softly reiterated.
“The punk having the ‘counter fit’ at Dunkin’ Donuts also was the same numbskull at Canal’s who was probably buying lottery tickets five minutes before off-duty Sergeant Ed Slimm had been present in the store,” Chief Giralo all-too-patiently replied. “Then while still riding along very slowly in Greenmount Cemetery, I immediately thought of counterfeit bills, the twenty dollar denomination in particular. And my frenzied mind next focused on its singular image of Andrew Jackson, whose portrait as you know appears on the twenty. The entire mind-boggling mystical incident compelled my finite mind to suddenly reflect on Shirley Jackson and also on her classic novella ‘The Lottery’.”
“My’ brain’s about to explode right out of my’ cranium and zoom like a dysfunctional rocket high into the upper stratosphere!” Agent Orsi graphically exaggerated. “Go back to the beginning Boss and adroitly fill us in on some more relevant details!”
“All U.S. pirates are not from Pittsburgh,” symbolically joshed Inspector Giralo. “We’re dealing here with going-up against an extensive national counterfeiting ring. At first the crafty felons were successfully shuttling low-level contraband like illicit T-shirts, illegal music CDs, pilfered movie DVDs and shoddily duplicated Disney toys, with all the imitation products obviously violating established protective U.S. trademark and copyright laws. When their stealthy operations began moving large amounts of merchandise around from state to state however,” the Chief elucidated and paused, “that’s when Matt Riley and I became directly involved in apprehending the unscrupulous culprits, who were indiscriminately engaged in their nefarious activities. But Riley and I are cooperating in holding the brazen scoundrels responsible for the unauthorized transportation of illegal goods.”
“Well, what cities were their main distribution bases?” Agent Blachford intrepidly interrogated his Boss. “Please don’t tell me one of them was Jackson, Mississippi?”
“Actually Dan, the extremely active rogues had kept small warehouses in Jackson, Mississippi, in Jackson, Ohio, in Jackson, Tennessee and in Jackson, New Jersey, not far from the Great Adventure Six Flags Amusement Park. I had discovered early in my career that most felons are so cocky and so arrogant in their habits that they eventually end-up destroying themselves by getting caught from overconfidence.”
“But Chief,” Agent Orsi candidly questioned, “that takes care of Shirley Jackson. But what about the Bobbsey Twins, Alice in Wonderland, Mark Twain, Franklin W. Dixon and O. Henry?”
Inspector Giralo then embarked on a long-winded round-about dissertation about how he, the master-savant had earnestly employed the rather common educational “Interdisciplinary Approach” by imaginatively integrating literature and geography. In his impressive discourse, the Chief stressed that he soon had realized that the national counterfeit smuggling syndicate had ambitiously rented a plethora of staging warehouses in Langhorne, Pennsylvania just northeast of Philadelphia, in Carroll, Iowa, in Dixon, Illinois, in Jackson as well as in Ft. Lee, New Jersey, right near the magnificent George Washington Bridge.
“Well Boss, that inspiring disclosure of yours simultaneously takes care of Mark Twain, Lewis Carroll, Franklin W. Dixon, Laura Lee Hope and Shirley Jackson,” Sal Velardi finally comprehended and respectfully uttered. “But kindly tell me, what about William Sydney Porter, better known as O. Henry?”
“At first effort I had avidly researched on Google and found Sydney, Australia and then learned about Sydney, Nova Scotia,” Joe Giralo orally conveyed, “but then I objectively reckoned that Sydney, Australia was too far away and that Sydney, Nova Scotia was up in Canada, and that transporting counterfeit goods across international borders would not be expedient for the principal criminals to ever attempt. So then I persevered and assiduously found Porterville, California, a town about the size of Hammonton, and that targeted West Coast location proved my wild theory to be accurate with seven arrests being made in Porterville just this afternoon.”
“Well Chief, what about the ill-tempered hostile nutcase who had left the two sheets of names at the liquor store and who had quarreled with the cute cashier over at the Atco Dunkin’ Donuts?” Sal Velardi curiously asked. “No wonder why the distraught bully changed his tune when I flashed my FBI badge in his face!”
“His name is Richard Turner, but the mischievous rascal is only a minor actor in this ongoing melodrama,” Chief Giralo shared. “Turner was a mere courier doing small errands and minuscule jobs for the major counterfeiting crooks. Richard Turner drove leased Budget Rental trucks between the already-mentioned various tax-free ‘underground economy’ warehouses, more than likely the ones located between Langhorne, Pennsylvania, and Millville and Jackson, New Jersey. The boys down in DC were able to relate Millville with Herman Melville from a third sent e-mail. In fact, this nasty messenger Richard Turner had the code name Moby Dick!”
“That leaves one more pertinent factor to be unveiled!” Dan Blachford declared. “Who are the brains behind this aggravating interstate smuggling ring?”
Inspector Giralo inhaled a quantity of oxygen and explained that the appellation “Zeke” was Ezekiel Wilson, a disgruntled former English teacher at Oakcrest High School, situated ten miles southeast of Hammonton in Mays Landing. Wilson was an aspiring author who had ghostwritten a contemporary novel for Fred Dempsey, a creative-minded business instructor at the alluded to high school. But Dempsey possessed inferior writing skills, and the greedy pedagogue only wanted to give Ezekiel Wilson a 20% editing fee for his prodigious labor, but the insulted English teacher demanded 50% of the book’s sales’ profits and royalty rights. So being adamantly defiant, Mr. Ezekiel Wilson spitefully published the book in both their names, but later a local court decision ruled that Wilson was guilty of gross plagiarism.
“The school system eventually fired Ezekiel Wilson on grounds of attempting illegal publishing fraud,” Joe Giralo shared with his now-enamored comrades, “and the frustrated writer was also cited for being a chronic alcoholic, especially being observed several times by school supervisors ‘under the influence’ while slurring his words when teaching Shakespeare and Cervantes.”
“One more item remains to be resolved,” Sal Velardi maintained. “Who was this Zelda person? Was she an accomplice?”
"Zelda Zenobia is a legal immigrant who had migrated to America in the late 1980s,” the Chief answered. “Zelda was a former gypsy of Hungarian and Greek descent, and the attractive woman in 2006 became shamed Ezekiel Wilson’s romantic girlfriend and also his entrepreneurial partner in insidious crime. Tomorrow morning we’ll head on up to Ft. Lee on the banks of the Hudson to nab both Zeke and Zelda doing their’ harmful mischief in their newly constructed contraband bailiwick!”
“Hey guys, sorry for the delay! Here’s your piping-hot large tomato and cheese extra-thick pizza!” Rick Collini hollered as the proprietor promptly delivered the recently prepared delectable to the corner table.
“Rick, could I pay you with a hundred dollar Franklin!” Joe Giralo merrily stated as his three seated FBI agents covered their mouths with raised hands and pretended not to laugh at their haughty Chief’s pathetically disguised reference. “It seems Rick that I’m all out of twenty-dollar Jacksons today!”
Jay Dubya
Author of 49 Books
Google: Jay Dubya Books
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interesting read