“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.”
“Sir, did you know what your wife did?” Yolie asked him.
Dex didn’t answer her. Just sat there, gazing out at the Blush Noisettes.
Yolie tried again. “Mr. Farrell…?”
He blinked several times before he said, “We always talk things over. It’s the key to a successful marriage. That’s something you young people ought to remember for the future. Never keep secrets. Never go to bed angry. Talk everything out.”
“So you did know?”
“He just told you, Sergeant. We don’t keep secrets. We’ve been through so many ups and downs over these past thirty-seven years, haven’t we, Dex? This little episode-this is just one more thing.”
“It’s the only thing,” Yolie countered. “You murdered another human being, lady. Don’t you understand that?”
“What I understand,” Maddee replied, “is that I made a sacred vow to this man the day I married him. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. This right here is the sickness part. My Dex isn’t well. But I wasn’t about to abandon him when he needed me most. What kind of a wife would that make me?”
“The kind who has to take a little ride to New London with me,” Yolie said to her. “You and your husband both. Maddee Farrell, you are under arrest for the murder of Augie Donatelli. Dexter Farrell, you are under arrest for being an accomplice to the murder after the fact-as well as for multiple counts of public indecency, criminal trespass and malicious mischief. You both have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney and to have-”
“I’d like to phone ours before we leave,” Maddee told her. “And to finish dressing as well.”
“Of course.”
“Dex, do you want your seersucker or your madras?” Maddee asked him, as if they were off to the country club for a game of bridge.
He considered his reply carefully. “The seersucker, I think.”
Maddee went into the kitchen to make her phone call, which was quite brief. Then she went down the hall to their bedroom. Yolie stayed right with her, not trusting her one bit. When they returned Maddee had a yellow cotton sweater on over her summer dress. She was carrying her purse and her husband’s seersucker sports jacket.
As she helped him on with it Maddee said, “Sergeant, you don’t need to handcuff us, do you?”
“No, ma’am. That won’t be necessary. We’re just taking a little ride.”
“You’re very considerate. Thank you.”
They all left together by way of the front door. Yolie toting the black plastic trash bags of evidence. Maddee pausing to make sure the door was locked behind them.
