She unzipped his fly and took out his penis.
Herbie felt drowsy. He took another pull on the brandy and set the glass on the coffee table.
She teased him erect, then took him into her mouth.
31
Detective Third Grade Vivian DeCarlo walked into the emergency room at Lenox Hill Hospital and looked around for her partner, Rose Mahon, who was supposed to meet her there to interview a hit-and-run victim. No sign of Rosie.
“Hey, Viv,” a young female resident in green scrubs said to her.
“Hey, Liz,” Viv replied. “How’s it going?”
“Now that you mention it, I’ve just examined a rape victim, and you might want to talk to her. She’s behind the curtain, there, in exam one.”
“What’s her story?”
“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 Remy 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.
32
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.