“Time for bad cop,” Dino said. He left the room and appeared on the other side of the one-way mirror and sat down at the table.
“I’m Lieutenant Bacchetti,” he said to the woman. “I’m the detective’s boss. You’re in deep shit, young lady. We’ve got you cold on filing a false report, obstructing justice, drugging Fisher, and lying to the police. You’re going to do hard time.”
“I want a lawyer,” Carson said, and she was trembling.
“We’ll be glad to get you a lawyer,” Dino said, “and the minute he walks into this room, you’re cooked. He’ll tell you to shut up, and we’ll file the charges. Then we’ll show him the tape, and he’ll tell you to do a deal. But I’ll tell you what: you give us the truth in writing-the whole story about who put you up to this, agree to testify in court, and you can go home tonight, and your parents won’t know where you’ve been. Otherwise, you’ll sleep in a cell for a couple of nights, until your folks can post bail, and you’ll be convicted on the evidence you’ve already seen. Now what’s it going to be?”
“Can I have a drink of water?” Carson asked.
Viv went to a cooler and came back with a cupful. Carson sipped it and seemed to be thinking hard about her position.
“No charges?” she asked.
“Not if you tell us the absolute truth, sign the statement, and agree to testify. If you tell us even one lie, the deal is out the window, and your life as you know it will be over.”
Carson took a deep breath. “Dink made me do it,” she said.
“Dink who?” Viv asked.
“Dink Brennan, my boyfriend. His roommate at Yale, Parker Mosely, came to my apartment this afternoon, gave me the cocaine, and told me exactly what Dink said for me to do.”
Viv was taking notes. “And where does Parker live?”
“His parents live at 580 Park Avenue, but he went back to Yale. He lives in a dorm there.”
Dino ripped her notes from the pad and stood up. “You finish up here,” he said to Viv, “and get it all. Explain to her that her statement is being videotaped and recorded, and don’t let her leave until she signs the typed statement.”
“Yes, sir,” Viv said.
Dino left the interrogation room and went back to the observation room. Herbie took the paper from his hand and began to write. “Here’s the address and room number of his dorm,” he said, handing it back to Dino. “Tell your people they might get a disease if they touch anything in the place.”
“They’ll go in with a search warrant,” Dino said, “and I’ll bet we find drugs.”
Stone spoke up. “You know you don’t have anything on Dink yet. She didn’t get her instructions from him. You’re going to have to turn Parker, too.”
“Stone,” Herbie said, “can I talk to you alone for a minute?”
“I’ll go away,” Dino said, and left the room.
“What is it, Herb?”
“I’ve got a problem here, and so have you.”
“Marshall Brennan?”
“Exactly. He’s the firm’s client, and a very important one, and since you and I are both heavily invested with him, we don’t want to cause him any more pain than can possibly be avoided.”
“By having his son arrested and charged?”
“That’s it. Look, nobody’s been hurt here so far. She’s not going to charge me with rape, so it’s not going to make the papers and I’m not going to be fired from Woodman and Weld, and Marshall is not going to fire the firm, and my career won’t be over tomorrow.”
“You have a point,” Stone said. “How do you want to handle this?”
“Let’s do it a different way,” Herbie said, and began to explain.
34
Herbie awoke the following morning, still feeling fuzzy. He’d had only about four hours of sleep, but that would be enough. He called the rehab farm in Connecticut and made an appointment to see Dink, then he had a long conversation with the director of the farm. He showered, shaved, had a good breakfast, then transferred his security tape to his iPad and put it into his briefcase, along with a copy of Carson Cullers’s signed statement. He inserted a tiny recorder into the breast pocket of his tweed jacket, then he called Cookie and told her to clear his morning, that he had to see a client, which was true. He got out the Maybach and drove up to New Haven, thinking that, maybe, he should be driving something less ostentatious.
He drove through the gates of the farm and presented himself at the reception desk, then waited in a comfortable lounge that reminded him of a hotel he had once stayed in.
Dink appeared a few minutes later, dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, clean-shaven and finely barbered. “Hello, Herb,” he said cheerfully, offering his hand. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I had to wrap up a group therapy session. I’m glad you could come to see me.”
“Oh, I was in the neighborhood,” Herbie replied, shaking the hand. “Have a seat, Dink. We need to talk.”
Dink sat down, crossed his legs, and smiled broadly. “I want to thank you personally for getting me into this place. It has really changed my life, and they tell me I’ll be ready for release in a week or two.”
“You’re entirely welcome, Dink. But what I’m about to tell you is going to change your life again-and again for the better.”
“Well, that sounds great, Herb.”
“Of course, there’s an alternative scenario, but we’ll get to that later. Right now you should know that you’re not getting out of here in a couple of weeks. In fact, I think you’re probably going to be here for the remainder of this year and maybe for the year after, too.”
Dink’s face took on a scowl.
“What are you talking about?”
Herbie took the small recorder from his pocket. “I want you to listen to what Carson Cullers had to say last night.” He switched it on. “She said it to the police, and then she put it in writing.” As Carson began to speak, Herbie switched on his iPad, which began to play his security tape.
Dink listened and watched. “This is bullshit, Herb,” he said.
“Shut up and listen,” Herbie said. When the two tapes had played, he switched on the recorder and put it back into his pocket. “Now, what you’ve just seen and heard is enough to get you five to seven years at a very uncomfortable state institution, a place not nearly as nice as this one.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Dink said. “Carson is making this up. She’s crazy, you know-she has spells where she doesn’t know who or where she is.”
“Those probably come during sessions with the drugs you supply her,” Herbie said.
“And it’s her word against mine. You have no evidence tying me to this.”
“Your old roommate, Parker Mosely, is at this moment having a very long conversation with an NYPD detective lieutenant. I’ll have the recordings of that session for you in a day or two. And your stash of drugs has been located, so we can add another ten years to your sentence for that. You’re going to be well into your middle years before you see the light of day, Dink.”
“I want a lawyer,” Dink said sullenly.
“I’m the only lawyer you’re going to get, Dink. Have you forgotten that you signed a document making me your only legal representative for the foreseeable future? You also made me your legal guardian, upon your self-admission to this facility. Add while you are a patient here, you are, ipso facto, incompetent to change those agreements.”
“My old man won’t let you get away with this,” Dink said. He was looking very worried now.
“Your father has already had a long conversation with my associate, who is his good friend, and he has wholeheartedly approved of everything I’m telling you.”
“And if I don’t do what you want me to?”
“Oh, yes, the alternative scenario. In that case this facility will declare you competent, and you will be arrested and tried for your crimes. Carson and Parker will testify in court that you supplied her, through Parker, with drugs, then instructed her to entrap your attorney into a rape charge. You will be convicted and, when all charges are taken into account, sentenced to a term of fifteen to twenty years in a hard-core, non-country-club prison. Oh, and your father will wash his hands of you and disinherit you, as well. When you are finally released you will have to rely on the criminal and sexual skills you learned in prison to support yourself. Are you beginning to get the picture, Dink?”