“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.