Unnatural Acts (16 page)

“She says some guy got her drunk and raped her. She wasn’t wearing any panties, but there was no bruising, either internal or external, and she didn’t seem all that drunk, either.”

“You think she’s lying?”

“I’ve seen a couple of dozen rape victims in here, and she
doesn’t fit the mold. She’s not crying, not even looking upset, and, like I said, not a mark on her. Her first name is Carson.”

“Did you do a rape kit?”

“Yep. I found no semen in her vagina, but there was some on what pubic hair she has left after a major wax job. I’ll get you the kit.”

Viv walked over and pulled the curtain back a few inches. “Carson?”

The girl was stretched out on the exam table, and she lifted her head a bit. “Yes?”

Viv walked into the cubicle and pulled the curtain closed behind her. “I’m Detective DeCarlo. Dr. Edwards tells me you’ve been hurt.”

Carson put her head back onto the table. “I’m not hurt, just raped, that’s all.”

Viv pulled up a chair, sat down, and got out her notebook. “Tell me what happened.”

“I went over to this guy’s apartment for a drink and had a martini. He was doing coke and drinking brandy. He made a move, but I wasn’t into it and I told him so. He slapped me across the mouth, pulled up my dress, and ripped off my panties, and he raped me.”

Viv looked at the woman’s mouth—no sign of swelling. “What’s the man’s name?”

“Herbert Fisher. He’s a lawyer at some big-time firm.”

“Address?”

She rattled off the address. “The penthouse.”

“Did anyone see you go to his apartment?”

“Just the doorman.”

“What’s your last name and your address and phone number?” She jotted down the information. “Do you want to make a formal complaint?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just go to the newspapers and TV. If I sign a complaint, what are the chances of anything being done about it?”

“Frankly, based on what you’ve told me, not very good. It’s a he-said-she-said situation. He’ll likely maintain that the sex was consensual, and since you have no injuries, the DA would probably not go forward with the case.”

“Let me think about it,” Carson said.

Viv gave her a business card. “You can reach me at both of those numbers.”

Carson suddenly sat up and hopped off the table. She was at least four inches taller than Viv. “I’m going home,” she said.

“You should speak to the doctor first.”

The curtain was pulled back and Dr. Edwards entered and handed Viv a paper bag. “Here’s the kit. Where are you going, sweetheart?” she asked Carson.

“Home.”

“You’re sure you’re okay to travel?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Edwards took a form from her clipboard and handed it to Carson. “Give this to the cashier on your way out. She takes credit cards.”

“Okay, thanks.” And she was gone.

“That was not like any rape victim I’ve ever seen,” Edwards said.

VIV FOUND
her partner in the waiting room. “Sorry, I was interviewing a rape victim.”

“I spoke to the hit-and-run victim. She had nothing useful. Didn’t see a thing, didn’t remember anything.”

“Let’s go talk to the alleged rapist,” Viv said. “He lives near here.”

They got into their unmarked car and drove to the building. The doorman buzzed the penthouse repeatedly. “I don’t get it,” he said. “Mr. Fisher always answers immediately.”

“You think he could be ill or hurt?” Viv asked.

“I don’t know—there was nobody up there but a woman, and she left in a hurry.”

Viv flashed her badge. “Can you let us in? We just want to be sure he’s all right.”

“Sure, give me a minute.” He picked up the phone and asked for somebody to spell him at the desk, then he led them to the elevator and pressed the PH button. “Actually, he doesn’t usually lock the elevator door when he’s home. It opens directly into his foyer.”

The elevator stopped, and the two women stepped off.

“You want me to wait?”

“No, that’s all right. We won’t be long.”

The elevator door closed behind them.

“Mr. Fisher?” Viv called. “NYPD. Anybody home?”

Nothing.

Viv led the way into the living room, which was lit by lamps at either end of the sofa. A man was sitting on the sofa, his head back and lolling to one side. His fly was open and his penis exposed.

Viv walked over to him and shook him by the shoulder. “Mr. Fisher? Wake up. We’re the police.” There was no response. Viv peeled back an eyelid and the pupil contracted. “Well, he’s not dead.” She pinched his cheek, hard. Still no response.

“I think we need an ambulance,” Rosie said. “He could have OD’d. Look.” She pointed at a pile of white powder on a piece of brown paper on the coffee table. “There’s at least an ounce here.”

“It’s a neat little pile,” Viv said. “It hasn’t been cut into lines, and I don’t see a straw or rolled-up bill that he could snort with. I wonder how much he’s had to drink.” She tapped the brandy snifter on the table. “Most of at least one drink.”

Rosie walked across the room to a bar and lifted a bottle of Rémy Martin cognac. “Looks like a fresh bottle. One drink missing, maybe.”

“I’ll call it in,” Viv said, reaching for her phone. “We don’t want him to die on us.”

Rosie came back to the sofa, pulled the man’s pants up until the penis fell back inside, then zipped it up. “We don’t want to embarrass the EMTs, do we?” She looked toward the end of the sofa, then walked over and picked up a pair of torn panties. “Looka here.”

Viv ended her call. “They’re on the way.” She looked carefully at the panties. “There’s a tear, but not the sort of tear that would get made when somebody ripped them off. You know, this situation is off. I’m going to get somebody up here to take prints.” She dialed another number.

DINO WAS
getting ready for bed when his phone rang. “Bacchetti.”

“Lieutenant, this is Viv DeCarlo.”

“What’s up, Viv?”

“I’ve got ahold of an alleged rape case, but everything’s a little off. Guy named Fisher, has a penthouse on Park Avenue. A young woman named Carson Cullers says he raped her, but there are no marks on her and no semen inside her. There’s other stuff that doesn’t add up, too.”

“What’s Fisher’s first name?”

“Herbert. Cullers says he’s a lawyer with a big firm.”

“Let me speak to Fisher.”

“I’m in his apartment, but he’s out like a light, and I can’t wake him up. I think there might be something in the drink he was drinking. I’ve called an ambulance.”

“Have them take him to Lenox Hill, and send your partner with him. I’m coming over to the apartment, and we’ll look at the scene together. Fifteen minutes.”

“Right.” She gave him the address.

Dino hung up and called Stone.

“Hello?”

“It’s Dino. I just got a call—some woman claims Herbie raped her, but my detective on the scene says her story looks hinky. Herbie’s unconscious in his apartment, and she can’t wake him. She’s called an ambulance to take him to Lenox Hill. I’m going to the apartment now.”

“I’ll meet you there shortly,” Stone said, then hung up.

Dino reached for his pants.

STONE WALKED
into the apartment and found Dino there with his detective. There was a technician dusting surfaces for prints, but no sign of Herbie.

“Stone Barrington, Viv DeCarlo,” Dino said. “Stone and I were partners in the squad about two hundred years ago.”

The two shook hands.

“Where’s Herbie?” Stone asked.

“On his way to Lenox Hill,” she replied. “You know him?”

“We’re with the same law firm. Give me the tour.”

“We couldn’t raise anybody, so the doorman took us up. We found Fisher unconscious on the sofa with his fly undone and his penis out. I couldn’t wake him, so we called an ambulance.”

“Did you talk to the girl?”

“Yes, that’s how I got into this. She was in the ER at Lenox Hill, complaining of being raped, but the doctor thought she might be lying.”

“What’s her name?”

“Carson Cullers. Lives a few blocks up Park.”

Stone nodded. “Getting any prints?” he asked the tech.

“Two sets on the glass,” he said.

Stone turned back to DeCarlo. “Fisher has an arrest record, so you can pull his prints. Might be a good idea to see if the girl’s prints are on file. It would save you a trip to her place.”

The tech opened a laptop and went to work feeding the prints through a scanner. “Okay, I’ve got hits on both,” he said. “They match the ones on the snifter, and they’re both on the martini glass, too.”

“Herbie makes her a martini and pours himself a brandy,” Dino said. “He hands her the martini glass, so both their prints are on it. But why are both their prints on Herbie’s snifter?”

“What was the girl arrested for?”

“Possession of a controlled substance—cocaine,” he replied. “She got a suspended sentence and rehab.”

“We got cocaine here,” Dino said, pointing at the coffee table, “but it looks undisturbed.”

“Well,” Stone said, “we know Ms. Cullers knows how to buy the stuff.”

“That’s quite a lot to leave behind,” Viv said. “I wonder why she didn’t take it with her.”

“Because she wanted us to find it,” Dino said.

Viv showed them the panties in an evidence bag and explained her theory about them.

“I want to know what’s in that brandy glass,” Dino said.

The tech opened another briefcase and went to work on a computer analysis of the liquid in the glass.

“How the hell did Herbie get mixed up in this?” Stone asked.

“Who knows?”

“She is a very beautiful girl,” Viv said. “Lots of guys would have gotten mixed up with her.”

“Hey,” the tech said, “I’ve got a hit on the analysis. There’s Ambien mixed with the brandy. It’s a sleeping pill, and it looks like a hefty dose. He drank most of it, too.”

“I’m going to the hospital,” Stone said.

“Me too,” Dino replied. “Viv, you pick up the girl on suspicion of filing a false report. Take her back to the precinct and milk her dry before she can lawyer up. I’ll be over there later.”

“Yes, boss,” Viv replied, then left.

Dino and Stone took a good look around the apartment.

“Nice place,” Dino said. “I didn’t know Herbie had taste, except maybe in clothes.”

“Herbie packs a lot of surprises,” Stone said. “He made senior associate at the firm in two years. Never been done before.”

“Come on, we’ll take my car,” Dino said.

AT LENOX HILL
they found Herbie in an ER cubicle, being attended by a young female resident. Dino made the introductions. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s still out. We’ve sent blood and urine to the lab, but we may not have results for a while.”

“He was drinking brandy, heavily laced with Ambien,” Dino said.

“Are you sure about that?”

“We can run that test on the scene these days.”

“In that case, I know what to give him. I’ll be right back.” She left the cubicle.

Dino peered at Herbie. “Sleeping like a baby,” he said.

“Drooling like one, too,” Stone said. He picked up a tissue from a box at bedside and wiped Herbie’s mouth.

The resident returned with a hypodermic. She unbuttoned Herbie’s sleeve, swabbed a vein, uncapped the hypo, and injected it. “Watch this,” she said, recapping the hypo and tossing it into a disposal unit.

Herbie’s eyelids began to flutter, and in a moment he opened his eyes and looked around. “Holy shit,” he said. “This looks like a hospital.”

“That’s because it is,” the resident said. “You’re in the ER at Lenox Hill.”

“How are you feeling, Herbie?” Dino asked.

“A little fuzzy around the edges,” he said. “Last thing I remember, a beautiful girl had her face in my lap.”

Even the resident had to laugh.

HERBIE SAT
in the backseat of Dino’s car. “Okay,” he said, “what the hell happened? How’d I go from getting a blow job to the ER?”

“The girl drugged you,” Stone said. “She put more than one Ambien in your brandy glass, then she went to the ER and said she’d been raped.” Stone told him the rest of the story. “Who is Carson Cullers?”

“She’s Dink Brennan’s girlfriend,” Herbie said. He told Stone and Dino how she came to be in his apartment.

“Dink had to have sent her,” Stone said. He explained to Dino who Dink was.

They parked in Herbie’s garage and went upstairs.

“There was an ounce or so of cocaine on the coffee table,” Dino said. “My tech took it into evidence.”

“I don’t remember anything about cocaine,” Herbie said. “I never touch the stuff.”

“You were set up, pure and simple,” Stone said.

“Listen, Herbie,” Dino said, “you get some sleep. Stone and I are going to the precinct and see what the girl is saying.”

Herbie showed them out. He was starting to undress for bed when he remembered something. He got dressed again.

STONE AND DINO
were sitting in an observation room, watching through a one-way mirror while Viv DeCarlo questioned Carson Cullers.

“I told you, he hit me in the mouth, and he ripped off my panties and raped me.”

“Let me tell you the problems I have with your story,” Viv said. “First of all, there isn’t a mark on you anywhere, including your mouth. There was no semen inside you. Fisher was drugged with Ambien. Nobody believes you, Carson, not the doctor who examined you, not my boss, and not me. Now, you’re looking at some serious charges here, and if you want to walk away from this without doing time, you’d better start telling me the truth. Let’s take it from the top: why did you go to Herbert Fisher’s apartment?”

The door to the observation room opened, and Herbie walked in.

“I told you to go to bed,” Dino said. “Let us handle this.”

“Has she told you anything?” Herbie asked.

“Yes, a lot of lies.”

“Have you got a VCR in this joint?” Herbie asked.

“Right over there,” Dino said, “under the TV screen.”