CHAPTER 55

Things were oddly calm. For all the anxiety and stress that Captain Winters, Chief Roark, and I were feeling on the drive over to the Augustino estate, we arrived and entered the house to find a scene that was subdued and quiet, with EMT and law enforcement personnel all going about their business in an efficient, seen-it-all before fashion.

We were met by the same trooper who had arrived in the nick of time and rescued me from the clutches of Bones and Puddy’s mother. He stood at the door to the study where I had sat with Sue Ellen only days earlier. His countenance was of a man bravely facing execution. His eyes looked unwaveringly and directly into those of Captain Winters. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“What the hell happened here?” Captain Winters demanded without any greeting.

“Mr. Augustino was found in his study this morning, about half an hour ago, by his cook. She was bringing him his coffee and breakfast,” the trooper answered.

“In his study?” Winters asked.

“Yes, sir. He was taking all his meals there, spending his nights there too. A bed had been moved into the room. It has its own bathroom, shower, and all,” the trooper answered.

“No one heard or saw anything at all in the night?”

“No, sir. Trooper Covell was on duty outside the study door. Troopers McNeill and Logan were posted outside the windows. The curtains in the room had been drawn earlier in the evening before. All reported that there was no activity last night and that things were quiet.”

“What were his movements? Who was the last person to see him alive?” Winters asked next.

Trooper Covell pulled a top spiral, three-inch-by-five-inch notebook out of his top left breast pocket and leafed through a few pages before coming to the one he wanted. “It appears that Mr. Augustino had been spending the majority of his time holed up in his study. Throughout the entire day, he had only left the room three times, for twenty-minute-or-so walks around his property. The rest of his time was apparently spent working on his computer and watching television, primarily his own network and movies.”

“He had access to a computer?” Winters asked. He didn’t seem happy to hear that.

“Only for word processing, sir. The Internet connection had been disabled to deny access to email or any on-line accounts. We’d also taken away his mobile phone, and there is no landline phone in his study. He had no contact with the outside world from his study--not even his attorney, who had to call and arrange visits with the trooper on duty.”

That all seemed to take the captain a step down in his aggravation level. “Go on,” he said.

Trooper Covell again consulted his notes. “The last person to see him alive was Mrs. Augustino. They had eaten a late dinner together in the study--that was about seven thirty--and were together about an hour. She left and came back about an hour later and then left Mr. Augustino alone for the night about an hour after that, about ten thirty.”

“And where is she now?”

“She is in the stables. She hasn’t given a statement. Thought it would be best to wait for you.”

“Right. Anything else?” Winters asked.

“Yes, sir...um...” the trooper began, again looking over his notes, “...the only other person to see him last night, after his last walk, was a Mr. Ronald Wesley. He brought Mr. and Mrs. Augustino their dinner, left, and then returned when Mrs. Augustino did and removed the dinner dishes shortly thereafter, at approximately nine forty-five p.m.”

“Okay, let’s go look at the body,” Captain Winters said, slipping on a pair of latex gloves that were handed to him. He put on a pair of white sanitary booties over his shoes and strode briskly into the room. I started to follow him but was stopped by Trooper Covell.

“I’m sorry, law enforcement personnel only,” he said, putting his hand up, nearly but not quite touching my chest.

“You can let him in, Trooper,” Chief Roark, said as she moved past me and toward the door.

Trooper Covell moved to block her way. “Sorry, ma’am, but this is state police jurisdiction. Neither of you are permitted--” he began.

Chief Roark stiffened a bit, obviously quite unhappy to be treated like a second-rate citizen.

“It’s okay, you can let both of them in,” Captain Winters said from inside the room, “but make sure he doesn’t touch anything.” He emphasized the he, meaning, of course, me.

Chief Roark gave the trooper a quick glance from his shoe tops to his hat, straightened her back, and strode past him. I followed, smiling, and nodded to the trooper as I passed. We were both handed a pair of latex gloves and booties by another state trooper. Chief Roark put hers on quickly and expertly. I had a bit of difficulty with the gloves because they were a little small for my hands. I managed to get most of my hand in, but not all the way through to the fingertips of the gloves, so the end of my fingers resembled the nipple of a baby bottle top. The booties slid on easier.

There, hanging from one of the horizontal beams in the exposed ceiling truss, was Tony. He was a sickly gray, his eyes closed and his head cocked to the right. The right side of his face was puffy and bruised, and probably as a result from when I had hit him days earlier. His lips were blue, and his tongue, dark and swollen, protruded slightly from his mouth. He was wearing red silk satin pajamas and was barefoot, his feet darker than the rest of his exposed body. A foot stool lay on its side below his feet, which were about a foot above the floor. There was a slight, sickly smell in the room but it was not particularly strong, owing, I imagine, to the open windows that let a warm breeze waft through the space. I wasn’t at all upset that this might be the way I’d always remember him.

Captain Winters looked around the room. “Has anything been touched?” he asked.

A trooper who was already in the room and appeared to have been overseeing things came forward. He held out a clear plastic evidence bag that contained a single eight-and-a-half-inch-by-eleven-inch sheet of paper.

“This was on the coffee table. It’s a suicide note, written to the wife and apparently signed by the deceased. There is an electronic copy of the letter on the computer as well.”

Captain Winters took the note and without removing it from the evidence bag scanned it quickly. “Damn,” he said and handed it to Chief Roark. I sidled over to get a look at it over her shoulder.

Dear Sue Ellen, it read. ‘I have tried to tell you how sorry I am and don’t blame you for refusing to accept my apologies. What I have done is reprehensible, and I realize that my actions have put our family, our children, at risk. That is the very last thing in the world I intended. By ending it all now, I hope that it will be easier for you and our children to begin moving forward with your lives. I also hope that someday you will understand that everything I did, I did for all of you, and the bitterness and anger you feel toward me will lessen.’ It was signed Tony.

“Okay,” Captain Winters said. “You can get him down now. Let the ME examine him. Any idea where he got the rope?”

“Well, sir,” the trooper in charge of things said, “there are lots of ropes in the stables. He may have brought it in with him after one of this walks. He did stop in to see his daughters when they were with their horses earlier today. It seems one of their horses got loose.”

“And no one was watching him?” Winters said.

“I’m still investigating that, sir, but it seems our troopers joined in to help corral the horse,” the trooper answered.

“What are we? A bunch of cowhands?” Winters asked incredulously, his aggravation level ratcheting back up. “I want the name of the troopers who was guarding him--or supposed to be guarding him. Corralling a horse,” said a clearly agitated Winters.

All the troopers in the room were suddenly studying the tops of their shoes, avoiding any eye contact with him.

While Captain Winters was putting the fear of God into his men, the EMT people, clad in those white sterile overalls and white booties over their feet that seemed to be standard EMT wear, had come into the room with a step ladder and set it up next to where Tony was hanging. One of them climbed up and untied the slip knot that was around the exposed beam while two others held the body as it was released. It appeared to be rather stiff. They carried it over and laid it atop a tarp that had been spread out on the study floor.

I stepped forward to look at the body. The rope was still around his neck when they laid him down. It was a one-inch nylon cord, about six feet in total length. The rope had been fashioned into a hangman’s noose with six turns in the knot, which was below his left ear, and had slipped tightly around his neck.

Doc Livingston, who I had not noticed up until then, came forward carrying a medical bag. He was also wearing one of those EMT suits and, pudgy as he was, I couldn’t help thinking that all he needed was a white chef’s hat and he’d look just like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. I stepped back and allowed him to pass. He kneeled beside the body, opened the bag, removed a pair of latex gloves, and easily put them on, snapping each at the wrist. Next, he pulled out a small black notebook, opened it to a blank page, and then scrounged around in his bag for a few moments until he found a pen. He made some notes on the page as he studied the body, probably about the rope and type of knot. He then loosened the noose and slid it up and over Tony’s head, placing it on the tarp beside the body. He examined the yellow-brown area around the narrow groove in Tony’s neck where the noose had made its imprint and scribbled a few more notes in his book. He opened each of Tony’s eyelids and examined the eyes. Finally he picked up and studied first Tony’s left, then his right, hand, looking closely at the knuckles and examining the finger nails. He gently placed both hands on the front of Tony’s body, at about his thighs, palms down. He jotted a few last notes into his book then, with a slight bit of difficulty and a mild groan, rose from his kneeling position.

“Well?” asked Captain Winters.

“It appears to be suicide. There are no signs of struggle on the body. The rope around his neck appears to be the one that killed him. He may have taken some kind of drug. His eyes are a little glazed, but I won’t know until I perform the autopsy.”

“How long do you think it took him to die?” Captain Winters asked.

“He appears to weigh about, I’d say, two hundred pounds--probably took between five and eight minutes. May I remove the body?”

“Not yet,” Captain Winters said. He came forward and kneeled next to the body. He essentially repeated all the things Doc Livingston had done only moments before, although he took a little longer examining Tony’s eyes. “What do you estimate was the time of death?” he asked without looking up.

“Well, a preliminary guess--it was a hot night so the air conditioning was probably running--judging from the degree of rigor mortis that has set in, I’d say between nine and twelve hours ago. I’ll be able to give you a more accurate time once I’ve got him back at the morgue.”

Captain Winters looked up at Doc Livingston. “That would make it...” He looked at his watch. “...between ten and one o’clock last night,” he said.

“Yeah, well, it would have to be later than ten-thirty. That’s when Sue Ellen left him,” I interjected, drawing disapproving stares from everyone in the room, except Doc Livingston, who gave me a little smile.

Captain Winters got up and walked over to inspect a table that Tony appeared to have used as a desk and computer that sat on it. I stepped forward to get a better look at the noose, bending over and reaching out to see just how tightly the turns in the knot had been wound.

“Hey, the captain said you weren’t to touch anything,” Trooper Covell called out, stepping between me and the body.

“Oh, yeah, right, sorry,” I said, straightening up, though I did manage to note from my brief inspection of the noose that it appeared the knot had been tied expertly.

“You said the wife...Mrs. Augustino...is in the stables?” Captain Winters asked the reporting trooper from across the room.

“Yes, sir. She’s with her daughters. Mr. Wesley and a friend, the vet, Dr. Cox, are also with her,” he said.

“Right. I’m going to go talk to her. Have this place thoroughly dusted for prints, though I doubt we’ll find anything unusual. Check the computer for anything besides the suicide note. Also check the bathroom, the medicine cabinet, under the sink--anywhere--for any drugs.”

“Yes, sir,” the trooper answered.

Captain Winters turned and left the room, Chief Roark and me trailing behind. We all removed our gloves and booties before leaving the house. We crossed the yard to the stables and entered to find Sue Ellen sitting on one of a few bales of hay, her daughters on either side of her. Each had an arm looped inside Sue Ellen’s arm that was on their side and their heads resting on her shoulders. Jackie was at one of the stalls, stroking their chestnut horse’s neck, looking concerned at the group on the hay bale. The other horse, a golden Palomino with a black mane, was poking its head out of its stall, seeming to share Jackie’s concern. Ronald stood protectively just off to the side of the family.

“Mrs. Augustino,” Captain Winters said as we approached. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yes, very sorry,” added Chief Roark.

I remained silent, feeling like any words I could say would be inadequate.

Sue Ellen was wearing a light blue, long-sleeved denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up to about her elbows, blue jeans, and her green muck boots. As before, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked up at Winters and Roark, her eyes strong and clear, yet seeming a bit tired. She took a deep breath. “Thank you,” she said.

I hadn’t seen her since a few days before Tony had admitted that he killed Stevie and Tony and we had our little run in at the river. I’d been busy, and, in a way, avoiding her, because I wasn’t sure she’d really want to have anything to do with me, seeing as I was the one who’d thrown her whole world into chaos.

Then she looked at me and gave that same sad, sweet smile I had seen on her face way back when it seemed everything had started, at Stevie’s funeral. I knew instantly and with the deepest sense of relief that we’d be okay. I gave her a slight smile back. She was a remarkable woman.

It was good to see Jackie. The last time I’d seen her was after she’d patched me up at her office, and I’d dropped her off before going back to Stevie’s place. It seemed like ages ago. She smiled at me. It was a nice smile.

I nodded hello to Ronald. He nodded back, matter-of-factly. His look was calm and composed, impossible to read.

“Mrs. Augustino, I’d like to ask you a few questions, just to follow up on the report my trooper gave me. Would you like to go somewhere more private?” Captain Winters asked.

“No--except, girls,” she said turning to each of her daughters, left and right. “Why don’t you give Cherokee and Goldie a little exercise in the paddock?”

“Yes, Mom,” each said.

They stood, bent over, and each gave their mother a hug, in turn, then walked over to their respective horses. We waited while they entered the stalls, put halters on the horses, attached the leads, and led the horses out of the stable.

“Are you sure you don’t want do this alone?” Captain Winters asked again, once they were out of earshot.

“No, I’m fine. I’d rather Ronald and Jackie were here with me,” she answered.

“What about him?” he asked, tilting his head in my direction.

Sue Ellen looked at me. Her smile turned warmer. “I’d like Wes to be here too,” she said.

“Mrs. Augustino, it seems you were the last person to see your husband alive. You were with him twice last night, is that correct?” Winters asked.

“Yes, early in the evening we had dinner together. Then I left him to say goodnight to the girls, spend a little time with them. It’s all been a little hard for them to understand. Then I came back to the study. We had...things to discuss,” she answered.

“What was his mood? Was he agitated? Depressed?” Winters continued.

She took a moment to consider the question. “No, in fact, for the first time in a long time he seemed...I don’t know...regular, not playing the big shot, if that makes sense,” Sue Ellen said softly.

Chief Roark stepped forward to stand beside Captain Winters. “He was spending all his time in the study--his nights there. Was there animosity between the two of you?” she asked.

Sue Ellen stiffened and her eyes flared for a moment. “Animosity? He killed my brother, he put my daughters’ future in jeopardy, we might lose everything, the dry cleaners--” She looked around at the stable. “--have to sell this, all the property. Would you blame me if there was animosity?”

“Yet you had dinner with him? Met with him alone later that night?” Chief Roark continued, ignoring her question.

Sue Ellen took a breath, a deep one. “As I said, we had things to discuss...our daughters’ schooling this fall, where we’d be sending them after all this. He wanted to let me know what kind of deal he was going to make with you, or whoever he had to make a deal with, other things--and, despite how I felt, he was still my children’s father. For their sake, I had to...had to...I don’t know...accept things...” Sue Ellen said, her voice trailing off at the end.

I noticed that Chief Roark and Captain Winters shared a brief look.

“Your husband left a suicide note...” Captain Winters began.

“A note? May I see it? What did he write?” Sue Ellen asked.

“Our forensic team is looking at it,” he continued. “You can have it shortly. But in it, your husband wrote that he ‘put your daughters at risk.’ That seems like an odd choice of words. You yourself used ‘jeopardized.’ Is there something we should know?”

Sue Ellen looked back over her shoulder at Ronald. He looked down at her and gave her a reassuring nod. She turned back to us. “There were threats, at the dry cleaners, at TSN, at the lawyer’s office.” She was wringing her hands. Her voice grew a little shaky, though she tried to control it. “They said that if Tony testified, made any kind of deal, not only would they kill him but all of us--my daughters.” Her voice trembled. “They said they’d kill my daughters.”

Chief Roark leaned her head close to Captain Winters. “The Crawfords,” she said quietly.

Captain Winters nodded in agreement. “And how did Tony react to these threats?” he asked.

“At first, he was the old Tony, he just dismissed them. He said there was no way anyone could get to us, that they were just trying to scare him. Last night, like I said, he was...well, last night he brought the threats up and said he’d take care of it. I asked him how. He said I’d see. I assumed it was part of the deal he was making with you--or whoever,” she answered.

Again, Captain Winters and Chief Roark looked at each other and nodded, seeming to be sharing the same thoughts.

“One last question. Doc Livingston suggested there’s a possibility your husband had drugs in his system. Do you know anything about that?” Captain Winters asked.

“Drugs?” Sue Ellen said. She looked down at her hands for just a moment. “Um...I um...I got a prescription for Valium after...when...well, you know...I needed something. I told Tony and he asked me to give him a few, said he was having trouble sleeping. I didn’t see the harm. I didn’t give him that many.”

“How many?” Chief Roark asked.

“In all, over the past few nights...five, maybe six,” she answered.

“Did you see him take the Valium each time you gave it to him?” Chief Roark asked.

“No, he put them aside, said he’d wait until he was going to bed.”

Captain Winters inhaled and let out a long puff of breath through his lips. He was silent for a few moments. He tapped the finger and thumb tips on each hand together in front of him. He looked at Ronald. “Mr. Wesley, besides Mrs. Augustino, you were the last person to see Mr. Augustino alive, when you came for the dishes. How did he look to you--his mood,” he asked.

“Well, actually, I didn’t see him. He was in the bathroom when I went into the study,” Ronald answered.

“How about before that then, when you brought him his meal.”

“Seemed like the same old Mr. Augustino. He really never had much to say to me. Didn’t last night. I just laid the food out on the table and left,” Ronald replied.

“Okay. I think that’s about it then,” Captain Winters said. He looked at Chief Roark. She nodded. “At this time, there’s no reason for us to suspect that your husband’s death was anything but a suicide. We will keep a few men around the property for a few more days--have them escort you or your daughters if you need to go anywhere, considering the threats, but I think now that your husband is dead...well, I don’t think you or your daughters are in danger anymore.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Sue Ellen replied. “What happens next--to Tony? I’ve got to--” Her voice broke, the first real sign of emotion she’d shown up to now. “--to begin making arrangements for his funeral.”

“Doc Livingston will conduct a post-mortem examination of the body. I don’t expect it will tell us much we don’t already know--or suspect. The body will be released in a day or two.”

“All right then. Again, thank you,” Sue Ellen said.

“You’re welcome, ma’am, and we are sorry,” Captain Winters answered.

Chief Roark nodded solemnly. They both turned and walked out of the stables. I stayed.

We all stood quietly for a few moments.

Then I turned to Sue Ellen. “Okay, tell me what really happened,” I said.