“If you would conduct this questioning by speakerphone, it would save you the necessity of relating to me what she said, or even of taking notes. Though a recording couldn’t hurt.”
“Let’s make use of the cone of silence, shall we?” Stone said, leading the way to Dick Stone’s little office. The three of them entered the office, followed by Lance, Primmy, and Viv, who arranged themselves while Stone dialed the number he had been given.
27
Stone called the number, and the phone was answered by a young woman.
“May I speak with Carly Riggs, please?”
“Who’s calling?”
“This is United States Marshal Stone Barrington,” he replied, “and my partner, Dino Bacchetti.”
“You’re from the press, aren’t you?”
“I assure you, we are not. We are both duly appointed marshals.”
“Do you think I’m stupid? I’m a law student, nearly a graduate, and every law student knows that Dino Bacchetti is the police commissioner of New York City.”
“Would you like for Marshal Bacchetti to confirm his identity personally?”
“Yes.”
Stone handed the phone to Dino.
“This is Dino Bacchetti. To whom am I speaking?”
“You’re Dino Bacchetti, who I heard speak at Yale Law last semester, and you don’t even know who you are calling?”
Stone handed Dino the paper with the woman’s name.
“You are Carly Riggs?”
“I am. Why did it take you two guesses?”
“He’s a little slow,” Stone said.
“And you, you are supposed to be the buddy and former cop partner of Dino Bacchetti, the attorney?”
“That is correct. Also, a U.S. Marshal, duly appointed by a federal judge.”
“And what is the name of the judge?”
Stone looked at Lance, eyebrows up.
“Elizabeth Prior,” Lance said.
“And who was that speaking just now?”
“That was Lance Cabot,” Stone said.
“Oh, the director of the Central Intelligence Agency? You must think I’m a complete fool.”
“Your case has national security implications,” Stone lied.
“Oh? How is that?”
“Are you aware that your missing companion, Tim Scott, is an FBI agent?”
“What?”
“He wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Stone said.
“Now you expect me to believe that I could be in class with the guy for a year, a guy I had been sleeping with, without finding that out?”
“As I said, he was not allowed to tell you.”
“Why are we speaking of Tim in the past tense? Is he dead?”
“That is the assumption on which we are proceeding with this investigation.”
“Do you have any evidence that he is dead?” she asked.
“Do you have any evidence that he is alive?” Stone asked quickly.
“Well...”
“We are proceeding on your testimony to a police officer that you were both kidnapped and were together in a sinking boat, from which his body has not yet been recovered. Though people are trying, as we speak.”
“All right,” she said. “Let’s begin again, this time on the assumption that you three are who you say you are and not drunken practical jokers.”
“I assure you that we are who we say we are, and that there are no drinking or practical jokes involved.”
“All right, what do you want?”
“We believe that your case may be connected to other cases on which we are working, and we would like to hear your personal account of what happened to you from the time you left your class until you were pulled from the water.”
“I would feel more comfortable if I could see your faces,” she said.
“We are not in New Haven but in another state.”
“We could accomplish that by using Zoom. That way, we will be able to see each other.”
There ensued a quarter of an hour’s discussion on how to use the app, followed by explicit instructions. Finally, everyone could see everyone.
“All right,” Carly said. “I recognize Commissioner Bacchetti from his lecture and Mr. Cabot from newspaper photos, and you, Mr. Barrington, from a photo taken of you waltzing with the president of the United States. But who are the two women in the room?”
“One is Vivian Bacchetti, a retired police officer who is COO of a large security company. The other is a possible witness to a related crime. May we begin now?”
“All right,” she said, then drew a deep breath. She launched into a detailed description of everything she could remember about her kidnapping and rape.
“So,” Stone said, when she had finished, “there is nothing else you can tell us that would assist us in our investigation?”
“Well,” she said, “how about the names of the two men who raped Tim and me?”
“You know them?” Stone asked, astonished.
“Let’s say I recognized them,” she replied.
“Please explain.”
“The two men had the same startlingly blue eyes as each other, and the same eyes as the twins who conducted the criminal appeals class that I and Tim are taking. I believe they are Eben and Enos Stone.”
“Let me understand you. Your identification of these two men is based entirely on the color of their eyes?”
“I suppose you might say that,” she replied. “But they are uniquely vivid, identical, and exclusive to them.”
“Did you tell this to the police?”
“No. When I talked to the police, I didn’t yet remember where I’d seen them before.”
“Ms. Riggs,” Stone said. “You are a senior law student, by your own account. Can you imagine what a defense attorney for these twins would do to your testimony in cross-examination?”
“Well...”
“He would introduce expert witnesses who would testify that there are three zillion people with vivid blue eyes and that no one could identify a person on the basis of a few seconds’ glimpse of his eyes.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“You say these men spoke to you when you were tied to a bed?”
“That is correct.”
“Can you say, for certain, that their voices were identical to those of the twins who teach your class?”
“I suppose not. I hadn’t made that comparison.”
“Have you any other evidence to offer that would support your conclusion?”
“All right, I have not.”
“Then I think we will not detain you further. We thank you for your time.” Stone hung up. He was sweating a little.
“God help the courts when she starts practicing law,” he said.
28
Carly Riggs put down the phone and wondered if she was having bizarre hallucinations associated with the drug she had been given. If so, that had been a very long and detailed hallucination.
There was a sharp rap at her apartment door. She walked rapidly toward it, then slowed and looked through the peephole, something she almost never bothered with. What she saw were the two detectives, a man and a woman, who had interviewed her after she was found in the lake.
She had forgotten their names. “Who is it?” she called out.
“Detectives Doris Spelling and Maury Miller. We spoke to you at the hospital.”
Carly unlocked the door, let them in, and offered them seats in her small living room. The woman was carrying a shopping bag. “What can I do for you?” she asked.
“I’m afraid we’ve brought sad news,” Spelling said.
“Is it Tim Scott?”
“Yes. We found the boat with Tim’s body still in it. His parents have been notified and will be claiming the body.”
“I’ll write them a note,” Carly said.
“That would be kind of you. Also,” Detective Spelling said, holding out the shopping bag, “we found your clothes and handbag in a disused shed near the water. By the way, you were not in a lake but in the upper reaches of Quinnipiac River, where it is broad and may look like a lake. You were in East Rock Park.”