“It’s Ensor,” Des informed her. “Hal told you she worked for some New York outfit that recovers peoples’ lost assets, right? I surfed the Web sites of a gazillion companies until I finally found one called Equitrust. It’s headquartered in White Plains, not the City. I accessed their employee directory and found a Terri Ensor. Then I located a Gregory and Terri Ensor in West Nyack. Called them up and got Greg. Identified myself and asked him if his wife was home. Right away, he wanted to know why. I told him she may have witnessed a vehicular accident in Dorset last evening. He acknowledged that she was out here visiting a college friend, just got home this morning. He went and fetched her. When Terri got on the phone I told her I needed to talk to her about Hal Chapman. She said ‘Who?’ I said ‘You know, your trainer at the Dorset Fitness Center.’ After a really long silence she went ‘Ohhh…’ Clearly, Greg was still standing right there and she was scared he’d find out. I told her I just needed to know if Hal was with her last night at nine o’clock. She wouldn’t be called to testify in court. This was strictly off the record. But I needed to know.”
Yolie stared at her expectantly. “And…?”
“She backed him up, Yolie. Everything Hal told you.”
“That’s good work, girl. Thanks.”
“Excuse me, did I say I was done?”
“You’ve got something more?”
“I checked with Amtrak on the comings and goings of Kenny Lapidus over these past three weekends. The first weekend that our Dorset Flasher waved hello, Kenny bought himself a ticket on the Northeast Regional that left Boston’s South Station on Friday at 5:35 p.m. It arrived on time in Old Saybrook at 7:34. He caught a train back to Boston from New London at 10:20 p.m. on Sunday. Made it home just after midnight.”
“Why did he leave from New London?”
“The late train doesn’t stop in Old Saybrook on Saturday or Sunday.”
“So he was here in town while the Flasher was doing his thing?”
“He was here,” Des confirmed.
“No way,” Mitch protested as he turned the chicken on the grill. “Kenny’s not the Dorset Flasher.”
“I’m not saying he is, baby.”
“But Dawgie was all over his mother,” Very pointed out. “Kenny had a definite motive for swinging that bat.”
“How about the other two weekends?” Yolie asked her.
“Amtrak had no record of him purchasing tickets last weekend. He must have driven his Prius down. We already know he drove here this weekend. He told us so. What we don’t know is whether he got here on Friday in time to leave that little present on my welcome mat.”
Yolie considered this for a moment. “You think Captain Rundle would mind if you took a personal day tomorrow?”
“Captain Rundle would be thrilled not to see my long face hanging around his barracks. You want me to drive up to Boston and check out the security cams at the MassPike toll booths, am I right?”
“You are. Let’s nail down exactly when Kenny came and went. I’ll run his credit card receipts. Maybe he bought gas somewhere along the way.”
“You people are wasting your time,” Mitch argued insistently. “Kenny’s a total wimp. Hell, I used to protect him from playground bullies. Do you honestly think a guy like him could murder a retired police detective?”
“It doesn’t take balls to commit murder, dude,” Very said. “Just desperation.”
“We have to look at him, Mitch,” Yolie added. “These Flasher incidents coincide with his visits. The victim was putting the screws to his mom, like the lieutenant says. And he has no one to vouch for his whereabouts at the time of the murder. Kimberly told us he was in his bedroom sending e-mails, but he could have slipped out the bedroom window.”
“No way,” Mitch shot back. “If he’d gone out the window Des would have seen him. She was staked out right there.”
“True enough,” Des conceded. “Except the window wasn’t his only way out.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Kimberly was out on the porch, right? Kenny could have just tiptoed through the apartment without her knowledge and gone out by way of the front door of the building. Then I wouldn’t have seen him.”
“Maybe somebody else did,” Very said.
“Maybe.”
“Now that you mention it,” Yolie said, “that scenario plays for Kimberly, too. She was alone on the porch. No one to vouch for her. And she’s plenty strong.”
“Why would she kill Dawgie?” Very asked.
“Because Kenny wasn’t up for it. The man’s a wimp, like Mitch said. What we don’t know is why they’d go to such lengths to protect his mom. I mean, so what if Augie was hassling the lady? All she had to do was just Say No-unless he was a total creepaholic stalker, in which case Des would have gotten involved, right?”
“Actually… there’s a bit more to it than that,” Very put in slowly. “Another angle that I worked this afternoon with my man Mitch here.”
Yolie glowered across the table at him. “What angle?”
“Augie was absolutely convinced that Beth Lapidus and her married boyfriend, Vinnie Brogna, were up to no good together.”
“What kind of no good, Romeo?”
“It’s Romaine. Are either of you ladies familiar with the Seven Sisters?”
“Wait one second…” Des said. “Augie asked me that on Friday. I thought he was talking about the colleges. He called me a hick.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Dawgie.”
“So what is the Seven Sisters?” Yolie demanded.
“A somewhat legendary Jewish crime family,” he replied. “They got their start a hundred years ago on New York’s Lower East Side. And still exist to this day. I happen to know a little about them because I’m a member of the family. So is Beth Breslauer. We’re both descended from the same long line of thieves. The two of us are cousins.”
Yolie looked at Des in amazement. “Okay, I didn’t see that one coming, did you?”
“Not even.”
“Wait, wait, there’s more,” Mitch said eagerly. “Beth’s not the only one who’s connected to the family. Back in the thirties, when she was a young chorus girl, Bertha Peck-nee Bertha Puzewski-was the mistress of Beth’s grandfather, Saul, a big time racketeer.”
“Okay, now this is just plain whack,” Yolie said.
“Very,” Des agreed.
The lieutenant looked at her. “Yeah, Master Sergeant?”
“Um, it’s very weird.”
“I’m down with that,” he said, nodding, nodding. “Beth claims that she’s kept her thing with Vinnie a secret from Kenny. He doesn’t know about them. She never entertains the guy at her condo. Won’t even let him pick her up there.”
Des mulled this over. “So she’s saying she slipped out the back door last night to go meet Vinnie?”
“Exactly. Told us he picked her up down the block and the two of them hit the Mohegan Sun. Saw Linda Ronstadt. Got themselves a room.”
“The front desk can confirm whether or not her story’s the real deal,” Yolie said.
“Augie told you that Beth and Vinnie were up to no good together,” Des said. “You still haven’t told us what kind.”
“He thought they were working the Mohegan Sun. You know, snatching handbags, wallets, jewelry. Beth insists not, naturally. And her criminal record is spotless, but…”
“Wait, why am I just finding out about this now?” Yolie demanded, glaring at Very.
“Because I’m telling you about it now. You want to hear my thing or throw down?”
“Did Augie have any evidence to back that up?” Des asked.
“He sent me some photos that, in his opinion, show Beth lifting a lady’s bracelet. You can look at them and see what you think. Mitch has seen them.”
“And I don’t think they show Beth stealing a thing,” Mitch said. “Augie saw what he wanted to see.”
“The photos are inconclusive,” Very acknowledged. “They for damned sure aren’t anything a prosecutor could run with. And yet I’m positive that both Beth and Bertha were playing me this afternoon.” He took a drink of his beer. “I found another roll of film hidden in his apartment, Sarge.”
“Hidden where?”
“Inside a jar of mayo in the reefer.”