The shimmering blond sister bam-7

by David Handler

  Soave turned to the death investigator and said, “What can you tell us?”

  “The victim suffered two blows,” he answered cautiously. “One blow’s to the left side of his head. The striking pattern’s horizontal, suggesting that his attacker swung at him pretty much the way you would if you were hitting a baseball. That blow, I’m guessing, stunned him and sent him to his knees. The second blow, which was the fatal one, is an overhead chop. His attacker wielded the bat like an axe.”

  “Any idea about the attacker’s size?”

  “The blows are substantial. Not the Incredible Hulk, but no weakling either. As to height, that’s difficult to gauge. If the victim was sneaking his way through the brush in the dark then we have to assume he was hunched over, not upright, which will significantly impact our calculations concerning the angle of the first blow. All I can tell you so far is that his attacker need not have been someone tall. Hopefully we’ll know more after we get him on the table.”

  “So we’re talking about a man of average height and weight,” Soave concluded, shoving his lower lip in and out.

  “Which happens to match the general description of the Dorset Flasher,” Des said. “Unless… could his attacker have been a good-sized woman?”

  “Don’t see why not,” the death investigator replied. “If she surprised him.”

  “Oh, I’d say Augie was good and surprised. Did you find a black ski mask on him?”

  “No ski mask.”

  Soave moved away from the body now, Yolie and Des trailing along. “We’ll search the neighborhood trash cans for that ski mask. And undertake a more thorough search of the grounds at daylight.”

  “I’d pay particular attention to the riverbank if I were you,” Des advised.

  “Will do,” Yolie said.

  “You folks ready to head over to Town Hall now?”

  “First give us the short version,” Soave responded. “If Augie Donatelli wasn’t the Dorset Flasher then who are you liking for it?”

  Des stood there, hands on her hips, mulling it over. “Persons of interest do come to mind. One is Hal Chapman. I’d crossed him off my list, but based on his behavior earlier this evening I’d have to put him back on.”

  “What kind of behavior?”

  “He went semiballistic at a cocktail party over at the Captain Chadwick condos. I was there. You see, a childhood friend of Mitch’s is getting-”

  “I knew it!” erupted Soave, who’d never had any use for the unlikely civilian in Des’s life. “I knew Berger would end up in the middle of this.”

  “His friend, Kenny Lapidus, is engaged to marry a local yoga instructor named Kimberly Farrell. Her father is Dex Farrell. The Dex Farrell.”

  “That thieving bastard cost me almost thirty grand,” Soave grumbled. “I’d like to punch him out.”

  “You and everybody else. The Farrells live in the Captain Chadwick House. So does Kenny’s mom, Beth.”

  “Is this the Beth Breslauer who the victim was hassling?” asked Yolie.

  “The same. Hal’s a trainer at Kimberly’s fitness center. I knew he had a history-exposed himself to a girl back in high school. I also knew he was a major player with the ladies. But I didn’t know until tonight that he’s seriously into Kimberly. And has a major temper.”

  “Okay, who else do you like?” Soave pressed her.

  “You’ll also want to look at a local housepainter-slash-garbage head named J. Z. Cliffe,” Des answered, not bothering to mention the source of this particular lead. “J. Z. has a grudge against the rich old ladies in town. His girlfriend works nights. And he used to be married to Kimberly.”

  “Sounds like this girl’s smack-dab in the middle of it,” Yolie said.

  “I never trust yoga teachers,” Soave blustered. “That whole mellow act of theirs is a complete crock.”

  “Time out…” Yolie whipped out her notepad and pen. “Sometimes I just have to write this stuff down.”

  “And then there’s Kenny,” Des went on. “He’s a big-time computer geek up in Cambridge. Comes down every weekend to see Kimberly. Before tonight he didn’t strike me as a likely candidate to be our Flasher. But he’s in play now. I saw him out on his mother’s porch getting busy with Kimberly shortly before the attack. Once I took off after Augie, who knows where Kenny went.”

  “Kimberly would know,” Yolie said.

  “I saw something else just before the attack-Beth slipped out of the building and headed down Dorset Street alone on foot.”

  “Was she carrying a Louisville Slugger by any chance?”

  “Just her purse, Rico. And she was headed in the opposite direction of the crime scene. Still, she was out and about when this went down. And she was feeling harassed by Augie. And here’s one other thing you ought to know: Augie suggested to me that Beth Breslauer isn’t who she appears to be.”

  “Meaning what exactly?”

  “Damned if I know.”

  “Well, who does she appear to be?”

  “A well-heeled doctor’s widow from Scarsdale. When Mitch was a kid in Stuyvesant Town she was his neighbor. Her name was Lapidus then.”

  Soave thumbed his moustache as he considered all of this. “Des, let’s be straight about one thing-do you or do you not believe that Augie Donatelli was the Dorset Flasher?”

  She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “No, Rico, I don’t.”

  “You’ve changed your mind about him?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re standing here looking at him, that’s why.”

  Later, she climbed the narrow stairs up to Mitch’s darkened sleeping loft and crawled into bed next to him, stretching her naked self out against him.

  “Gee, mom, is it time for school already?” he murmured.

  “Very funny.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Just after three. Go back to sleep, baby.”

  “Not a chance.” He kissed her, running his hands up and down her back. “Just give me ten more seconds to wake up and I’ll go fetch the lavender oil.”

  “Not tonight. Go back to sleep, okay?”

  “Something’s happened. What is it?”

  “Somebody beat Augie Donatelli’s brains in. I found him in the bushes next to Rut Peck’s house.”

  “My God, who…?”

  “Either he was attacked by the Flasher or by someone who thought he was the Flasher. That’s the working theory, anyhow.”

  Mitch’s sleeping loft wasn’t wired for electricity. He struck a match to light the oil lantern. She promptly blew it out.

  “Don’t you want to talk about this?”

  “I’m all talked out,” she replied. “Until nine a.m., which is when I’ll be getting my head chewed off by my barracks commander.”

  “Why will Rundle be pissed at you?”

  “Because I was tailing Augie when it went down. Hell, I was practically on top of the crime scene. And I had that public scene with him on Friday.”

  “They don’t think you killed him, do they?”

  “There are some people around town who definitely will.”

  “Which people?”

  “The ones who want me gone. Don’t approve of me.”

  “Like First Selectman Bob Paffin, for instance?”

  “Well, yes, now that you mention it.” She snuggled against him, hugging him tight. “Or do you think I’m being a paranoid nut job?”

  “When I was growing up my parents used to tell me that there were people out there who hated us on spec-simply for being Jews. I didn’t think they were nut jobs. And I don’t think you are. In fact, I know you’re not.”

  “Rundle will probably chain me to a desk until the case is closed.”

  “All because you were out there doing your job tonight?”

  “Basically. The good news is that Soave and Yolie are on it.”

  “Not to worry then. They’ll figure out who killed Augie. Or I should say Yolie will. Mr. Po
tato Head will just puff and preen and say dorky things.” Mitch had reciprocal warm, fuzzy feelings for Rico. He cradled her face in his hands, his own face very close to hers. “Nobody who knows you-really knows you-will believe you had anything to do with it. And anyone who does think that, well, you’ll never win them over in a million years. So screw them.”

  She caressed his cheek with hers, kissing him softly. “I don’t know what I’d do right now if I didn’t have you.”

  “Now you know exactly how I feel every minute of every day.”

  “How did I get so lucky?”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it, thinny. I chased after you.”

  “Did not. I’m the one who chased after you.”

  “I was just letting you think that. It was my play all of the way.”

  “Armando…?”

  “Hmmm-mmm…?”

  “Go get the lavender oil.”

  CHAPTER 9

  “Four more, bro! Give me four!”

  Mitch and Hal had the Dorset Fitness Center to themselves at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning. Hal was putting him through a punishing set of reps on the pressing bench. Mitch’s pecs and delts were popping, the sweat pouring off of him as Hal’s favorite music mix, which leaned heavily toward Metallica, blared from the sound system.

  “Now give me two! Come on, pump it, pump it… That’s what I’m talking about!” he exulted as Mitch aced his final rep. “Okay, give yourself a ten-minute blow on the bike. You earned it.”

  Gasping, Mitch climbed aboard a stationary bike and started pedaling.

  Hal handed him a bottle of water, clearing his throat uneasily. “Listen, I’m real sorry about the way I lost it at Mrs. Breslauer’s cocktail party. I feel sick about it, bro. That badass stuff is so not me. I phoned Kimmy last night to apologize but she was so pissed she wouldn’t even talk about it. Which I totally understand. As soon as she walks in that door I’m going to quit. I really shouldn’t be working here.”

  Mitch gulped down some water. “How come?”

  “I’m not over her, that’s how come.”

  “You two were involved?”

  “No, never. Kimmy doesn’t believe in getting physical with anybody who she works with. That’s how she put it to me, anyhow. And I’ve been fine with it-until she met Kenny.”

  “And now you’re not fine with it?”

  Hal shook his head. “Bro, Kimmy’s the one. I’ve never, ever felt this way about a girl. I get my share of tail. That goes with the job. But it’s Kimmy who I really want. And I can’t have her. So I think I’d better move on.”

  “Sorry to hear it, Hal. Where will you go?”

  “There’s a decent club over in Old Saybrook. I can get some hours there.”

  “That’s not exactly the same as managing this place. As a career move, I mean.”

  “No, it’s not,” he allowed. “But it’ll be a whole lot better for my sanity.”

  The front door of the fitness center opened and someone came in wearing chunky heels that clomped hard on the tile floor. A pit bull with jugs was how Des had once described Sergeant Yolie Snipes. Indeed, she was the fiercest-looking woman Mitch had ever known. Yolie’s inked up arms bulged out of her sleeveless top as she stood there at the reception desk, her cop’s eyes flicking around. Mitch called out to her, waving both arms in the air. She came on over.

  “Hey there, sweet thing,” she exclaimed, a big smile creasing her street-hardened face. Chiefly, it was that one-inch box cutter scar across her cheek. It left no doubt that Yolie had lived the life. “Good to see you again.”

  He climbed down off of the bike and gave her a hug. “Back at you. Pardon my sweat.”

  She let out a huge laugh. “You kidding me? This is the best action I’ve had all year.” Her gleaming brown eyes looked him up and down. “Damn, boy, you are cut.”

  “And I have this guy right here to thank-Hal Chapman, say hello to Sergeant Yolanda Snipes of the Major Crime Squad.”

  Hal nodded to her, his manner noticeably guarded.

  “How’s my girl doing this morning?” Yolie asked Mitch.

  “She’s not happy.”

  “Not to worry. We’ll close this one out in no time.”

  “Speaking of we, where’s…?”

  “On his way to the hospital. Tawny just went into labor-unless it’s a false alarm. She’s not due for another week. Chances are he’ll be back in a couple of hours. But if it’s the real deal then I’m flying solo until a new boss takes over.”

  Translation: If she worked fast she had a chance to break the Augie Donatelli murder case on her own. Yolie Snipes wasn’t just hard-edged. She was ultra-ambitious.

  “Nice gym you’ve got going on here, Hal,” she observed, glancing around. “I do my lifting in a stanky basement. Here you’ve got sunlight, a river view. I am loving this. Is Kimberly Farrell around?”

  “Not yet. She’ll be in soon for her nine o’clock class.”

  “Cool.” Yolie straddled a pressing bench, her thighs straining against the thin cotton of her tan slacks. “Okay if you and me talk while I wait for her?”

  Hal shrugged his broad shoulders. “What about?”

  “Last night’s beating death of Augie Donatelli. I understand you’re a potential witness.”

  His eyes widened. “I am? How can that be?”

  “You attended a cocktail party in a condo at the Captain Chadwick House earlier in the evening, didn’t you?”

  “Well, yeah. Mitch was there, too. So?”

  “So I need to account for your comings and goings afterward. That’s what they pay me for.”

  “Uh… do I need a lawyer?”

  “You always have a right to counsel. But if it was me, I wouldn’t bother. This is strictly routine stuff. Is there an office where we can talk?”

  “Right here’s fine. Okay if my bro sits in?”

  Yolie shot a glance over at Mitch. “In what capacity?”

  “As a witness,” Hal answered.

  She raised her chin an inch. “You need a witness?”

  “Let’s just say I’ll feel more comfortable if someone else is around. You don’t mind, do you?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t mind.”

  “Good deal.” Hal hunkered down on the bench next to hers, forearms resting on his knees. “What do you want to know?”

  Yolie pulled a small notepad and pen from the back pocket of her slacks. “Where you were last night.”

  “What time are we talking about?”

  “Let’s say nine o’clock.”

  “I was with someone,” Hal said, coloring slightly.

  “I’ll need the lady’s name and phone number, hon.”

  “Look, it’s… complicated, okay?”

  “Complicated as in she’s married?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Not a problem. I won’t mess up your thing. I can contact her at her workplace. Look, let me make this easy for you…” Yolie glanced down at her notepad. “Is her name Lisa Neville?”

  “How do you know about me and Lisa?”

  “Because you’ve been under surveillance for a while-in connection with the Dorset Flasher case.”

  Hal gaped at her in shock. “I have? What on earth for?”

  Yolie’s gaze hardened. “We don’t really need to go there, do we?”

  “Damn, that was a million years ago,” he responded angrily. “And it was a bum rap. She was my girlfriend, okay? We were getting it on. Got caught out on the bleachers one day during lunch. She panicked because her parents thought she was this perfect little angel. So she put it all on me. The principal, Mr. Jaffe, knew what the real story was. Everyone did. He convinced her parents not to file charges against me. And they didn’t. How did you even find out about it?”

  “Dorset’s resident trooper is a first-class detective, that’s how.”

  Hal looked over at Mitch. “Did you know about this?”

  “Des doesn’t tell me everything she’s doing.” W
hich was the truth. Just not in this case.

  “We’re right back where we started, hon,” Yolie said patiently. “The woman you were with last night?”

  “Her name’s Terri,” Hal answered grudgingly. “She was a drop-in on Friday. Blonde, slammin’ good bod. Not a local girl.”

  “Terri’s last name?”

  “I wish I could remember. I just hooked up with her that one time. I think it began with an E… Edsen, maybe?”

  “Did she sign in?”

  “I’ll check.” Hal went over to the front desk for the sign-in book and returned with it. “Sorry, she just signed in as Terri E.”

  Yolie had a look for herself. “She pay you with a credit card?”

  “Cash. It’s like eighteen bucks for a drop in.”

  “You have a phone number or address for her?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, what did she tell you about herself?”

  “That she’d been staying in Dorset with friends for the week.”

  “Do you remember their names?”

  Hal shook his head. “All she said was that she was visiting an old college roommate and her dull husband.”

  “From…?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Visiting from…?”

  “New York. She was a New Yorker.”

  “There, you see? Now we’re getting somewhere.”

  “She told me she was heading back home today. Real sweet girl. We vibed real good when I worked her out. She stopped by yesterday to thank me and, you know, one thing led to another.”

  “She hit on you, is that what you’re saying?”

  “It happens,” Hal said with a shrug.

  “Did she say if she had a job?”

  “Yeah, some kind of cube-farm gig. A big outfit that recovers money for people who don’t know they’ve lost it, or inherited it or something like that. I don’t remember exactly. I was more interested in trying to get her top off than I was in her career.” Hal cleared his throat. “Sorry, don’t mean to be offensive.”

  “Not to worry, hon. I’ve heard worse. What time did you hook up?”

  “Eight-thirty. She met me at the espresso bar out in the food hall, then I drove us to the beach in my ride.”

  “Where’d you park?”

  “At White Sand Beach. We strolled down to this nice secluded little spot that I know about.”