The Shimmering Blond Sister

by David Handler

  “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.” Which 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.”

  “Anyone see you?”

  “Nope.”

  “What do you drive, Hal?”

  “A Tahoe.” He gave her the year and license number.

  “You say Terri E met you at the espresso bar. How did she get there?”

  “She drove, I guess. There were a lot of cars parked there. The food hall’s open until midnight on Saturday night. When I brought her back it was still plenty busy.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Eleven-thirty or so.”

  “Where did you drop her?”

  “In front of the main entrance. She gave me a kiss, got out and then I took off.”

  “You didn’t see her get into a vehicle?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did she tell you where in New York she lives?”

  “In the City, I think. But I’m not positive. Like I was saying, I was—”

  “All about getting her top off. Yeah, I’m there.”

  The front door opened now and Kimberly came gliding in wearing her yoga clothes and a look of complete serenity.

  “Over here, Kimmy!” Hal called out, visibly relieved by her arrival. “This here’s Sergeant Snipes of the Major Crime Squad,” he explained as Kimberly approached them. “She’s investigating Augie Donatelli’s death.”

  Kimberly smiled at Yolie warmly. “Good morning, Sergeant. If there’s anything I can help you with please feel free to ask.”

  “Actually, I do need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Sergeant, could I borrow Kimmy for just one second first?” Hal interjected. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

  Kimberly said, “Hal, if this is about Beth’s party don’t worry about it.”

  “I didn’t sleep a wink all night,” he confessed miserably. “I totally embarrassed myself.”

  “And now you should let that feeling go.” There was no trace of annoyance in Kimberly’s voice. Only gentle kindness. Was Mitch witnessing the mystical power of yoga or the chemical effects of strong prescription antidepressants? He wondered—because her calm was pretty amazing. “It was just a silly moment, Hal. Silly moments are like those big puffy clouds in the sky. They blow away and then they’re gone. I believe in you. I want you here. So just forgive yourself and move on, okay?”

  He looked at her doubtfully. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I couldn’t be more sure.”

  “Well, okay. . . .”

  A young couple came in to work out. Hal headed for the counter to sign them in.

  “About those questions . . . ?” Yolie said to Kimberly.

  “Ask away, Sergeant.”

  “This is my cue to take off,” Mitch said.

  “No, please don’t,” Kimberly said to him. “Kenny will be here in a sec. He was going to take my class but I’m sure he’d much rather hang with you. Shall we go in my office, Sergeant?”

  “Or we can just talk right here,” Yolie offered, shooting a quick glance Mitch’s way. He knew why. She wanted him to be Des’s eyes and ears. Wanted him to report back to her. Soave wouldn’t play it this way, but Soave wasn’t around. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

  “Not at all, Sergeant. What is it you wish to know?”

  “Where you were last night at, say, nine o’clock.”

  “With Kenny at his mother’s place. I usually stay there with him when he’s in town. He’s not allowed to spend the night in my room until we’re married. Unlike Beth, my mother’s a little bit old-fashioned and a whole lot religious.”

  “Does she attend that lovely white Congregational Church?”

  “No, St. Anne’s on Old Shore Road. My folks are Episcopalian. Or, I should say, mother is. Father hasn’t gone to church in twenty years. But she goes every Sunday, come rain or shine. She’s there right now. I just helped her load up before I came here.”

  Yolie frowned at her. “Load up?”

  “Her car. She collects bags of old clothing for the Nearly New shop. It’s one of her causes. And, trust me, she is organized. Every item of clothing is bagged by category, by size, by gender. And she’s been reusing the same black trash bags for so long that they’re practically nothing but holes. But my mother never throws anything away. Is your mother like that, too, Sergeant?”

  “My mother OD’ed on smack when I was baby.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Yolie snapped. “I ain’t looking for your pity.”

  Kimberly flinched, taken aback. “At nine o’clock I was out on the porch.”

  “With Kenny?”

  “No, he’d gone inside to answer some e-mail on his laptop. ‘It’ll just take a minute,’ he says. It’s usually more like two hours. He’s a workaholic. I’m always trying to get him to chill out.”

  “Where was he answering this e-mail?”

  “In his bedroom. Our bedroom.”

  “Mrs. Breslauer has a ground-floor unit?”

  “Yes.”

  “There are windows in this bedroom, correct?”

  Kimberly raised an eyebrow at her. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Not a thing. Just trying to nail down whether you can be absolutely sure he was in that room at the time of Augie Donatelli’s death. And you can’t be.”

  “Kenny barely knew Augie. . . .” Kimberly’s lower lip began to quiver. “Besides, he wouldn’t have anything to do with violence. He’s not like th
at.”

  “Trust me, girl. Right place, right time, we’re all like that.”

  “Not Kenny!” Tears began to spill from Kimberly’s blue eyes. So much for yogic serenity. What was it J. Z. had said about her? She feels everything. “How could you even think such a thing?”

  “Just doing my job,” Yolie responded coolly. “Where was Mrs. Breslauer at this time?”

  “All tired out from playing hostess. She told us she felt like crawling into bed and watching something stupid on TV.”

  “You’re saying she was in her room, too?”

  “That’s right.”

  Meaning that Kimberly didn’t know that Beth had slipped out the back door of the Captain Chadwick House just before Augie’s murder and taken off on foot. Or that she was lying to provide a cover for Beth. Not that Mitch considered Kimberly particularly devious or conspiratorial. But how did he know for certain what lay underneath that sunny calm of hers? Did she feel hatred and rage just like other people did? Was she capable of acting on such dark human emotions? The short answer: he didn’t know.

  Kenny came in the door now and headed straight for the front desk to make things right with Hal. His manner was totally cordial. Hal’s was, too. Smiles all around before the two of them bumped knucks.

  Then Kenny moseyed over their way. “Okay, Berger, this time I know I’ve got you,” he said eagerly. “Ready? Here goes: ‘You want me to hold the chicken?’ ”

  “ ‘I want you to hold it between your knees,’ ” Mitch answered promptly. “That’s Jack Nicholson to the coffee shop waitress in Five Easy Pieces. Give it up, Lapidus. You’ll never beat me.”

  “This man is a freak!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in dumbfounded amazement. “Kimmy, would you mind if I grabbed a coffee with him instead of taking your class?”

  She squeezed his hand. “Of course not.”

  Mitch said, “I’ve been pumping iron for the past hour. I should jump in the shower real quick.”

  “Don’t bother. I work with computer weasels, remember? If they change their socks once a week it’s a miracle.”

  “Mr. Lapidus, I’m Sergeant Yolanda Snipes of the Major Crime Squad,” Yolie spoke up. “I’m investigating Augie Donatelli’s murder. Don’t wander too far, okay? You and me need to log some face time.”

  Kenny swallowed nervously. “We do? How come?”

  “Routine stuff. No big deal.”

  “Okay, sure. We’ll be right outside in the food hall.”

  As Mitch and Kenny started for the door, Yolie grabbed Mitch and said, “If you speak to our girl, tell her I’ll be in touch. I intend to keep her in the loop and busy. I don’t want her to go crazy.”

  “Yolie, that makes two of us.”

  Most of the food stalls were closed on Sunday morning. But the bakery and espresso bar were doing a brisk business. The village’s early birds liked to gather there over coffee to peruse the newspapers and gab away.

  Mitch and Kenny ordered lattes and found a table. Mitch was still thinking about Yolie’s line of questioning. He couldn’t imagine that Beth, Kenny or Kimberly had anything to do with Augie’s death. And yet, Augie had been borderline stalking Beth. And Beth had slipped out at the time of his murder. Kenny, it appeared, could have easily done the same. And Kimberly could have been unaware—or was playing dumb.

  Across the table, Kenny was studying him intently. He had a serious look on his face. “I’m glad you’ve done so well, Berger. I’ve followed your career. Never miss one of your reviews. And I-I saw your wife’s obituary. I thought about sending you a card but I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

  “Are you kidding? Of course I would.”

  “Listen, this is kind of weird, but if I ask you something, man to man, will you promise to tell me the truth?”

  “I promise.”

  “What the hell’s going on with my mom?”

  Mitch took a sip of his coffee. “I’m not sure what you mean, Lapidus.”

  “I mean, do you know who she’s seeing? Because she’s got a man in her life, I’m positive. Not that she’s said one word to me. Which isn’t like Mom at all. We always tell each other everything. We’re best friends. No secrets. Not ever.” Kenny broke off, breathing in and out. “I’m figuring whoever this guy is, she’s really ashamed. Like maybe he’s married or something. Since Dorset’s such a small town I thought maybe you’d heard some blowback or-or—”

  “Slow down. What makes you so sure she’s seeing someone?”

  Kenny blinked at him. “I’m no dummy, okay? Last night she told us she was going to crawl into bed and watch TV. Maybe she fooled Kimmy—but not me. Who puts on perfume before she climbs into bed alone? Mom slipped out the back door, Berger. I heard her. I didn’t hear her take her car out of the garage. So I’m figuring this guy must live within walking distance. Any idea who he might be?”

  Actually a prime candidate did pop into Mitch’s mind. A good-looking free spirit in his early forties whose girlfriend worked nights. J. Z. lived within walking distance of the Captain Chadwick House. And Beth would not want Kenny or Kimberly to know that she was getting it on with Kimberly’s ex-husband. Because that was, well, sick. So sick that Mitch didn’t even want to go there. Not out loud anyhow. “The guy doesn’t have to live within walking distance, Lapidus,” he said. “He could have been waiting down the street for her in his car.”

  “That’s true,” Kenny conceded.

  “What time did Beth get home?”

  “Four o’clock in the morning. I was wide-awake all night waiting for her.”

  “Did you talk to her about it?”

  “No,” he said abruptly. “She’s a grown woman. Her love life really isn’t any of my business. But I need to know. Seriously, Berger, you’d tell me if you knew anything, right?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Kenny sat there gripping his coffee container tightly in both hands. “Mom’s been through such a world of hurt ever since Irwin died. Irwin made her happy. Her life was a pleasure. Trust me, that wasn’t the case after my father took off. When you knew us back in Stuyvesant Town, wow, every day was a struggle for Mom. All she ever did was work her ass off and take care of me. She never had any time for herself. Not that she ever complained.”

  “Do you ever hear from him?”

  “From who?”

  “Your father.”

  “I have no father,” Kenny shot back. “I think he’s out on the West Coast somewhere. He’s an accountant or auditor of some kind. He remarried, started another family. But I don’t know how many kids he has or-or what their names are. I don’t want to know. I want nothing to do with that bastard. A guy who bails on his young wife and son the way he did. Leaving us to fend for ourselves. What kind of a man does that? When Kimmy and I start our family, believe me, those kids will know they have a father who loves them. No one should have to grow up like I did.”

  “And yet you did damned well, Lapidus.”

  “No thanks to him. It was Irwin who was there for me. Not that he ever got in my face or anything. He understood that he wasn’t my father. But he gave me a push when I needed one. Taught me to believe in myself. Irwin wasn’t a flashy sort of guy. A nebbish, really. But solid. And he worshiped the ground Mom walked on. Every morning at breakfast he’d tell her how beautiful she was. He was good to her. And he left her real fiscally fit.” Kenny paused, running a hand through his thatch of hair. “Which, being honest, is my real concern. Mom’s sitting on a mondo pile of dough. Not surprisingly, there are a million sleazeballs out there looking for a rich widow to prey on. She’s a prime target. Trusting and kind. And still plenty attractive for a woman her age, don’t you . . . ?” Kenny peered at him. “Wow, Berger, you just got real red all of a sudden.”

  “From my workout. I really should have taken that shower.” Mitch sat back in his chair, sipping his latte. “I think you’re underestimating Beth. She strikes me as plenty savvy. But I’ll mention your concerns to Des. She can smell a shark from a mile
off. Seriously, she’s like Robert Shaw in Jaws. There’s no need for you to worry about some schmuck moving in on Beth. It won’t happen.”

  “That’s awesome, Berger,” he said gratefully. “Thanks.”

  “No prob. Except now I have to ask you something weird. Because there’s something I still can’t figure out.”

  “You want me to explain what I do for a living?”

  “Oh, hell no. I’d never understand. This is about the Dorset Flasher.”

  “The late Augie Donatelli, you mean.”

  “Actually, they don’t know for sure that Augie was the Flasher.”

  “Really? Stupid me, I just assumed. What do they know?”

  “That the Flasher has been operating on the weekend. And that, by a strange twist of circumstance, you happen to visit Dorset every weekend.”

  “Wait, are you asking me if I’m the Dorset Flasher?”

  “No, absolutely not. But I do keep wondering if there’s some connection between your visits and his activities.” Mitch’s gaze locked onto Kenny’s. “Is there?”

  “Very good question,” Kenny answered forthrightly. “I’ve been wondering about that myself. I solve analytical problems for a living, okay? That’s actually what I do. And ever since this nut started waving his meat up and down the block I’ve been thinking: Why does this always happen while I’m here?”

  “And where has your thinking taken you?”

  “Berger, I don’t have the slightest freaking idea.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Des showed up at the Troop F barracks in Westbrook right on time, only Captain Rundle wasn’t there. Which is not to say that her troop commander’s small, plainly furnished office was unoccupied. Captain Richie Tedone of Internal Affairs was standing at the window watching the traffic whiz by on Interstate 95.

  Soave’s older cousin—and Yolie’s one-time flame—was a key Waterbury Mafia player. A ball buster who’d been positioned in Internal Affairs so as to weed out anyone and everyone who dared to challenge their hold on power. The Brass City boys, according to the Deacon, always made sure they had a designated thug like Richie in IA. He was a chesty lug nut in his late thirties with tight, curly black hair and a twenty-inch neck. He wore a cheap, shiny black suit and an air of tremendous self-importance. The man was way smug. Also way into looking Des up and down as she stood there in the office doorway, his eyes unbuttoning her uniform, helping her off with her shoes and socks. She hadn’t met a Brass City boy yet who didn’t have a chocolate fantasy.