The shimmering blond sister bam-7

by David Handler

  Dex reached for his coffee and took a small sip, his hand steady as a rock. He didn’t respond. Or look at Mitch. Just gazed out the porch screen at the rosebushes that flanked the Captain Chadwick House’s front path. The Blush Noisettes that Maddee tended to so passionately.

  “I’ve been asking myself why the Flasher always strikes on weekends-which just happens to be when Kenny’s in town visiting Kimberly. I kept thinking there had to be some connection. Again, the obvious answer fell right into place: You do your thing on the weekend because Kimberly isn’t here on the weekend. She’s out of the apartment-over at Beth’s place with Kenny. Plus, who knows, maybe you’re a teensy bit conflicted about that. Daddy’s little girl across the hall, lying in bed naked in some geeky young stranger’s arms. But, hey, that’s a little Freudian for me so I don’t think I’ll go there. Armchair psychology is not my thing. I’ve never been a big fan of Spellbound, have you?”

  Dex continued to stare out at the rosebushes. He was very still. Scarcely seemed to be breathing.

  “Which isn’t to say that it belongs in the pantheon of Hitchcock’s truly awful films,” Mitch went on. “Such as, say, The Paradine Case. Which, interestingly enough, also happens to star Gregory Peck. He and Hitch were clearly not a match made in Selznick heaven. But Spellbound has never appealed to me. So heavy-handed. And, wowser, talk about icebox questions.”

  “Talk about… what?” Maddee asked hoarsely.

  “You still haven’t answered my question, ma’am. How long have you known? You may as well tell me. I can help you. I certainly don’t wish to hurt you. I’m a friend of the family. And we both know that Mr. Farrell already has a well-documented history of behaving, shall we say, eccentrically in public.”

  Maddee lunged for her coffee cup and took a sip, her own hand shaking so badly that Mitch could hear the cup clonk against her front teeth. “I think you’d better leave, Mitch. I think you’d better leave right this minute. I refuse to sit here and allow you to speak such-such vile, awful, despicable…”

  “Please stop talking now, dear,” Dex spoke up, his voice quiet but firm. “Kindly shut your mouth and keep it shut. Mr. Berger has shown me the courtesy of paying us a personal call on this matter. In return, I owe him the courtesy of the truth. It’s the only honorable thing to do. Although I’m afraid, young man, that you won’t understand the purpose behind this little undertaking of mine.”

  “I’d like to, sir. I really would.”

  “Very well. I’ll do my best to explain it to you,” he said to Mitch as Maddee sat there across the table from him in obedient silence, a stricken expression on her face. “Over the years, Mr. Berger, there have been occasions in my life that have called for me to act in an extraordinary fashion.”

  “By extraordinary you mean…?”

  “Kindly don’t interrupt me. I assure you that I will answer all of your questions at the appropriate time.” Dex folded his hands before him on the table and resumed. “Occasions that have forced me to invent an alter ego so as to do what needed doing. Whether it be escaping the bonds of a rigid, recalcitrant authority or the righting of egregious wrongs. Wrongs that could not be dealt with by traditional means. Maddee and I have endured a great deal of personal humiliation since we’ve returned to Dorset. Perfectly understandable. I put my faith in the wrong men and cost a lot of innocent people a lot of their hard-earned money. I ask for no sympathy. I fully deserve the scorn and derision that is directed at me wherever I go. But not Maddee. It isn’t fair that this good woman has been made to suffer along with me. She had no part in the institutional failures of Farrell and Co. She was an innocent bystander who wished nothing more than to retire in peace to this village that she loved. That’s not so much to ask for, is it? And yet I saw how the old biddies whispered about her behind her back. Shunned her, humiliated her. Made her grovel to regain their precious approval. A fine, caring lady like my Maddee. Someone of breeding and taste. Her folks were very, very fine people. She was quite a stunner in her day, too, my Maddee. You should have seen her in a bathing suit, Mr. Berger. She would have taken your breath away. And yet just look at how these awful women have treated her. They’ve made her sort through other people’s soiled clothing like a ragpicker. Deliver meals around town just like one of those high-school dropouts who drive for Domino’s Pizza. All because she wanted to book the Yacht Club for Kimberly’s wedding. I’ll have you know I paid for that club’s new dock out of my own pocket seven years ago. Yet now my Maddee has to beg her way back into their good graces. They’re intolerably vicious and cruel, these women. Believe me, each and every one of them richly deserved a dose of her own medicine. And that’s exactly what I gave them.”

  “What about that poop sample you left on resident trooper Mitry’s welcome mat? Did she ‘deserve’ that?”

  Dex’s jaw muscles tightened but he didn’t respond. Didn’t care for inconvenient questions. Just sat there gazing at Mitch.

  “The resident trooper referred to Dex as ‘seriously disturbed’ on Channel Eight News,” Maddee explained, her voice quavering slightly. “It was very hurtful. Dex has been under a doctor’s care for these past two years. He knows-we know-that he has a problem with his… moods. He’s coping with his condition bravely. And, believe me, he’s never harmed a soul.”

  Dex nodded in agreement. “I’ve done no actual harm to any of the ladies, Mr. Berger. Merely taken it upon myself to mete out an appropriate measure of justice. You can see that, can’t you?”

  “Absolutely, sir. You’ve been making a statement.”

  “That’s correct. A statement.”

  “And no harm has come to anyone. Unless, of course, you count Augie Donatelli getting his brains bashed in. A man is dead, Mr. Farrell. That kind of throws your whole tit-for-tat thing out the window, doesn’t it?”

  Dex clucked at him reproachfully. “You don’t understand a thing.”

  “No, sir, I understand perfectly. It’s like Mrs. Farrell just said-you’ve never hurt a soul. And she’s the one person in the world who’s in a position to know that for sure.”

  “Because I love my husband,” Maddee said, gazing warmly across the table at him.

  “I don’t doubt that for one second, Mrs. Farrell. Tell me, when did you first realize that you weren’t the only one who was following Dex around on his nightly excursions?”

  Maddee shook her head at him. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

  “Did you know that it was Augie from the get-go?”

  She didn’t answer him. Went back to clipping her coupons instead. Snip-snip-snip. Her entire being focused on the task at hand. Snip-snip-snip.

  Mitch pushed harder. “I’m curious-how did Augie get onto him?”

  Again, no reply. Just that same snip-snip-snip…

  “Did Augie have the building staked out?” Snip-snip-snip. “Did he spot Dex sneaking home one night in his ski mask?” Snip-snip-snip. “Is that why you decided you had to kill him?”

  Maddee halted, gazing up at Mitch. She seemed quite calm. Almost serenely so. She was smiling at him. A kindly, motherly smile. As Maddee sat there like that, smiling, a strange noise began to emanate from her. A low moan that seemed to originate way down deep in her diaphragm. As it traveled its way up her throat, the moan became a feline roar-a roar that erupted out of her mouth at the same moment she sprang to her feet, kicking over her chair. “You’ve been spying on us, too, haven’t you?” she snarled at him, clutching those sharp little scissors in her fist. Her eyes bulged with rage. “Yes, you have. You’re a nosy little spy, just like that awful, filthy man was. Lurking there in the darkness. Do you know what happens to nosy little spies?” Now she raised those scissors high over her head. “They get their eyes poked out!”

  “I wouldn’t try that if I were you, Mrs. Farrell,” Mitch said quietly. “Not if you value your health and well-being.”

  Her husband said nothing. Just sat there.

  “Put those scissors down on the table right now, ma’am.
You’re in a great deal of danger.”

  Maddee gaped at him in disbelief. “From who? You?”

  “Not exactly, no.”

  “That would be from us, Mrs. Farrell.”

  Maddee whirled-and discovered that Des and Yolie were standing shoulder to shoulder just outside of the screened-in porch with their SIGs aimed right at her.

  “Drop those scissors,” Yolie ordered her. “Drop them right now.”

  Maddee wouldn’t. Just continued to stand there brandishing them high overhead.

  “Please put them down, Mrs. Farrell,” Des said.

  Maddee refused. She even took a step toward the two of them, opening the screen door wide. This was when the awful words “officer-assisted suicide” jumped into Mitch’s head.

  “Don’t do this, Mrs. Farrell,” Des pleaded. “We don’t want to hurt you. Just put those scissors down.”

  Maddee hesitated, glancing fondly over at her husband, then she turned back to Des and Yolie, her jaw clenching.

  “Put ’em down!” Yolie said once more.

  Now Mitch heard it again-that same low moan coming out of Maddee. The one that would soon turn into a roar. She was going to charge them.

  “Don’t do it,” Des warned as Maddee took another step toward them. “Please, Mrs. Farrell.”

  This was when Mitch dove for her. He tackled Maddee to the wooden deck, her body under his. She went down hard-but not without a fight. She wrestled with him, snarling and gasping. His hand found her right fist, the one that was wrapped around those scissors. He pinned her fist to the floor. But she still wouldn’t let go of the damned things. She was amazingly strong.

  By now Des and Yolie had charged inside. Des stomped on Maddee’s wrist with her shoe. Maddee’s hand immediately went dead, her fist opening like a clamshell. Yolie snatched the scissors away from her.

  “You see, Des, this is why I’ve never gone in for coupon clipping,” Mitch explained. “It’s much too dangerous a hobby. What took you so long anyhow?”

  “We had to search through two whole bins before we hit the jackpot,” responded Yolie, who was still wearing a pair of white latex crime-scene gloves.

  “But I was right, wasn’t I?”

  Yolie nodded at him. “You were right-about all of it. Dunno how.”

  “I don’t either.” Des looked at him in amazement. “I swear, boyfriend, sometimes you scare me.”

  Yolie went back outside for a pair of bulging, black plastic trash bags and dumped them on the floor.

  Maddee’s eyes widened when she caught sight of them. And the last bit of resistance went out of her. Her body slackened. She was subdued now. And unhurt-aside from a bruised wrist. Mitch helped her back up onto her feet and into her chair.

  Her husband continued to take all of this in with no expression. In fact, Dex Farrell barely seemed to notice the two large, gun-toting black women who were standing there on his porch.

  “Happily, you ladies got here just in time,” Mitch informed them. “Mrs. Farrell was just about to tell me how and when she realized Augie was following Mr. Farrell around.”

  “I knew about Dex’s activities from the beginning. That very first night he slipped out of our condo,” Maddee explained quietly. She sounded weary now. Utterly exhausted. “We retire early. By nine, nine-thirty at the latest. Always have. Wall Street men keep early hours. Dex thought I was asleep, but I don’t sleep very well. I haven’t in years. I heard him go into the bathroom and get dressed. I had no idea what he was up to but he was being so-so secretive that I became concerned. I threw on some dark clothes, put a scarf over my head and followed him. Not that I would have recognized him unless I’d seen him leave our unit with my own two eyes. He wasn’t dressed at all like his usual self. He had on a black nylon windbreaker, jeans, a pair of sneakers…”

  “And don’t forget the ski mask,” Mitch said.

  “He could have been anyone. Except he wasn’t anyone. He was the man I’ve loved for thirty-seven years.” Maddee reached across the table and put her hand over Dex’s, smiling at him.

  “A real stunner, Mitch,” he said softly, his eyes blank and lusterless. “She would have taken your breath away.”

  Yolie glanced down at the trash bags on the floor. “I’m not going to open up these bad boys again. Don’t want to compromise any evidence. But the Flasher’s whole outfit is bundled up in this one here,” she said, poking it with her foot. “Including a mud-caked pair of Chuckie T. All Stars and the ski mask, which will provide us with excellent samples of Mr. Farrell’s DNA-his saliva, nasal secretions, hairs from his head. A ski mask is what the forensics people call a target-rich environment. Your own outfit is in that other bag, Mrs. Farrell. Dark blue slacks, long-sleeved blouse, purple scarf. Your garden gloves, hiking shoes. Everything you were wearing on Saturday night when you were out there keeping watch over your husband. I have zero doubt that we’ll find traces of Augie Donatelli’s blood all over them. You’re bound to produce blood spray when you beat a man’s head in with a baseball bat.” She turned to Mitch. “Lay it on me, hon. How did you know where we’d find this stuff?”

  “Basic human nature, Yolie. It’s all perfectly good clothing-including the ski mask. Mrs. Farrell couldn’t destroy it. Not when there are needy souls out there who could wear it. It’s just not in her nature to waste anything.” To Maddee he said, “You delivered a load of used clothing to the Nearly New shop at St. Anne’s yesterday morning. Kimberly told us she helped you load up your car before church. You’re a smart, careful person. You didn’t dare bring that ski mask and clothing to the Nearly New. We’re talking about incriminating evidence. But you could toss it in one of those Goodwill bins behind Christiansen’s Hardware, figuring it would get carted halfway across the country and no one would ever be the wiser. Clever move, ma’am.”

  “Hell, you’ve been nothing but clever,” Des said to her. “When I answered Bertha’s 911 here on Friday you went out of your way to play the frightened victim. Telling me how scared you were you’d be the Flasher’s next victim. But you made one small mistake, Mrs. Farrell. The Goodwill truck only empties out those bins once a week-on Tuesdays. So the evidence hadn’t left town yet. It’s just been sitting in that bin ever since you dropped it there yesterday on your way to church. It would still be sitting there if Mitch hadn’t put two and two together. He’s the one who advised us to pop the locks and start searching. Sure enough, there it was. But I still don’t get it, Mitch. How did you know?”

  “Because of something Mrs. Farrell said to me yesterday when I was here with Lieutenant Very. She was out in the backyard working on the Captain Chadwick roses. I happened to say how nice they looked. And she said it wasn’t easy, what with the insects and diseases and ball-playing louts. I kept thinking what ball-playing louts? There’s nobody living here but well-heeled older adults, right?”

  Des studied him curiously. “Right…”

  “Until, wham, it hit me just now as I was driving down Dorset Street. That’s when I saw them.”

  “Saw who?”

  “Phillip and Peter Sidell moseying down the sidewalk kicking a soccer ball back and forth to each other. Phillip and Peter who live two doors over in a small place that doesn’t have much of a backyard. Certainly nothing like the four acres or so of lawn that this place has. Phillip who suffered a full-blown freak-out last night.”

  Des nodded her head slowly. “Because he knows who killed Augie. They both do. They looked out of their bedroom window and saw her running from the scene. Must have. But I couldn’t get them to admit anything.”

  “Because they’re totally petrified of this lady. Why is that, Mrs. Farrell?”

  “Those boys trampled one of my Blush Noisettes just like a pair of wild animals,” Maddee explained matter-of-factly. “They uprooted it. Broke its branches. Nearly killed the poor thing. So I told the little hooligans that if I ever caught them kicking their damned soccer ball into my roses again I’d sneak into their bedroom in the night and take my
pruners to their little dickies.”

  Mitch drew his breath in. “Okay, that sure would have given me night terrors when I was twelve. In fact, it still may. But I’m not clear about one thing: How did you come to be in possession of Augie’s Louisville Slugger?”

  “I can answer that,” Des said. “Augie told me he’d found her in his apartment Friday morning searching through his trash for recyclables. Or so she claimed. What he didn’t tell me-what he didn’t know-was that the real purpose of her visit was to grab that bat from under his bed. How did you know it was there, Mrs. Farrell?”

  “Augie told me it was,” Maddee replied. “He said that even though he felt completely safe in this neighborhood he’d slept with his Mickey Mantle bat under his bed for thirty years and was not about to change his ways. He was a stubborn man. Also a filthy one. There was dust everywhere. Stacks of dirty dishes, soiled underwear…”

  “You stashed it here,” Des continued. “And when Dex slipped out on Saturday night you brought it with you to use as a weapon on Augie. Augie was on to him and you had to do something about that. I was tailing Augie myself that night. He left his apartment, crossed the backyard and perched there in the darkness, waiting. I didn’t know why. Now I do-he was waiting for Dex to come tiptoeing out of the building. When Dex took off into the night Augie went after him. I tailed Augie. And you were tailing all three of us. As soon as you had a clear swing at him you used that bat to take him out.”

  “He fell to his knees, groaning, when I struck him,” Maddee recalled. “I surprised him more than I hurt him, I do believe. It was so dark I wasn’t sure where I’d hit him. So I hit him again-this time with greater force and accuracy. After that, he didn’t make a sound. I dropped the bat and ran back to the house. Bagged up my clothes, washed myself off and waited for Dex to return, hoping and praying that he’d make it home safe. And he did.” She gazed at him, her eyes shining with love. “My husband needed me, Master Sergeant Mitry. That awful man meant to do great harm to my Dex. It was up to me to protect him. I’d do it again if I had to.”