“You’ve had only one glass,” Abney replied. “And half a martini at Sardi’s.”
“Then why am I so…” She couldn’t seem to get the words out.
Abney got up, took her by her left wrist, and led her toward the sofa. “Let’s get comfortable,” he said, then he pushed her arm behind her, pulled her to him, and planted a big kiss on her lips, grinding his crotch into hers.
Viv could stand up, but she didn’t seem able to resist him. Then she felt a hand under her dress, and, in one strong motion, Abney ripped off her panties. She tried to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Then she was on her back on the sofa. He kept the grip on her left wrist, over the watch, and undid his trousers with the other hand. Viv’s right hand was pinned under her own body, and she couldn’t get it out. She wanted to scream.
In the car, Rosie got on the radio. “Lieutenant Bacchetti?”
“I’m here, Rosie. What’s happening?”
“They’ve been in there a long time. Have you got a male detective nearby? I want to go in, but I ought to be with a date, in case Abney sees me. I don’t want to blow this.”
“I’m two blocks away, in my car, and I’m on the way.”
“I read you,” she said.
Viv’s ankles were over Abney’s shoulders, now, and he was fumbling to get inside her. She made a monumental effort to move and managed to get one foot against his shoulder and push.
“Hold still!” Abney snarled. “Don’t worry, you’re going to enjoy it.” His face was flushed, and he was breathing hard.
Viv started to struggle again, and he put his free arm across her throat and pressed hard. She couldn’t breathe, and she thought she felt something in her throat snap. Then she passed out.
Abney felt her go limp. “Shit!” he said aloud. He didn’t want a rag doll; he liked the resistance. Then he froze. She wasn’t moving, didn’t seem to be breathing, either. He reached for her throat to get a pulse and found nothing. Swearing, he got up and pulled up his trousers, then went to the rear door of the room and looked down the stairs. It was clear.
He went back to the table, slung her handbag over his arm, then went to the sofa, pulled her up into a fireman’s carry, and left through the back door, down the stairs to the alley.
Dino pulled up, and Rosie was out of the car, waiting for him.
“Let’s go,” Dino said.
“Don’t rush,” she said. “We don’t want to call attention to ourselves.”
They walked into the restaurant, and the headwaiter approached. “I’m afraid it’s going to be another forty-five minutes before I’ll have a table.”
“We’ll just have a drink at the bar,” Dino said. They took two stools, and Dino looked around. “I don’t see her,” he said. “Do you see Abney?”
“No,” she said. “They’re not here.”
Dino called the bartender over. “I was supposed to meet Ed Abney here. Have you seen him?”
“Sure, he’s in the upstairs dining room,” the bartender replied, nodding toward the stairway. “But he doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s up there.” He winked for emphasis. “Can I get you a drink? He won’t be much longer, if he’s true to form.”
Dino grabbed Rosie’s hand. “Come on!” he said, and ran for the stairs.
46
Dino ran down the upstairs hallway and tried the door: locked. He knocked. “Mr. Abney?”
“God knows what’s going on in there,” Rosie said from behind him.
Dino knocked again. “Mr. Abney, it’s the police. Open the door.” No response. Dino pulled his weapon, took a step back, and kicked the door open, splintering the jamb. Rosie followed him in. There were dishes and glasses on the table, but the room was empty.
Rosie opened one of the two other doors in the room. “Powder room,” she said.
Dino opened the other door and found the back stairs. “Let’s go!” He ran down the stairs, pushed open the fire door, and stepped outside. He found himself in an alley and it was raining. There was a dumpster and half a dozen trash cans scattered about.
“He’s got a car,” Rosie said. “The shortest way is back through the restaurant.” She tried the door, but it had locked behind them. “Shit!” she yelled. “We’ll have to go around!”
They started down the alley at a run, but as they ran, Rosie heard a sound like a car alarm, muffled as if from a garage, but there was no garage in the alley. “Wait!” she yelled at Dino, then she turned back, looking around.
“What is it?”
“I hear an alarm. Viv was wearing a wristwatch with a panic button.” She ran to the dumpster and pushed up the lid. Viv was lying inside in a pile of garbage, her eyes glazed.
“Give me a hand,” she said to Dino. Together, they lifted her out of the dumpster and laid her on the wet tarmac.
Rosie produced her cell phone and called 911.
“I can’t get a pulse,” Dino said, bending over Viv and gently moving her hair from over her face.
“We need an APB for Abney’s town car,” Rosie said.
Dino got on the radio. “License number?”
Rosie sighed. “I didn’t get it, and there are a million black town cars in this fucking city.”
DINO PACED up and down the hallway outside the ER, talking rapidly into his cell phone. “Rosie, do you know Abney’s address?”
“He lives in a hotel on the West Side, the Broadway Savoy.”
Dino got back on the phone. “Abney lives at the Broadway Savoy, on West Forty-sixth, west of Eighth Avenue. If he’s not there, try his office.” He made a beckoning motion to Rosie.
“West Forty-fourth, a couple of doors west of Sardi’s.”
Dino relayed the name and address. “The charge, for now, is assaulting a police officer.” He hung up.
“I could kill myself, not getting the license plate,” Rosie said. “That’s rookie stuff.”
“It might not have helped,” Dino said. “There are too many town cars.” He sat down on a steel chair in the hallway.
“What the fuck are they doing in there?”
A young doctor in green scrubs pushed through the doorway, followed by Viv on a gurney. “OR four,” he said to the orderly. “I’m right behind you.” He turned to Dino. “She’s been drugged. We won’t know what until the tox screen comes back, but it’s probably some sort of date rape drug. They’re everywhere. She’s also got a partly crushed trachea, so she’s headed for surgery. The drug may have saved her life. It slowed her respiration and heartbeat. If she’d been conscious and had panicked, she might not have been able to get enough air. OR four is on the third floor. I’ve got a reconstruction surgeon on the way in. She’ll be okay in a couple of hours. Gotta go.” He turned and ran down the hall after the gurney.
Dino sat down again. “I should never have let you two do this thing.”
Rosie sat down beside him. “We didn’t count on the restaurant, and once we knew about it, we didn’t count on the upstairs room. From what the bartender said, it was a regular stop for Abney.”
“He threw her in a fucking dumpster, like she was garbage,” Dino said.
“He must have thought she was dead, or he would have finished her off.”
Dino looked at her. “If you tell me she got lucky, I’ll transfer you to the Bronx.”
THREE AND A HALF hours later, a man in scrubs walked into the surgery waiting room. “Who’s the lieutenant?”
Dino stood up, and so did Rosie.
“Detective DeCarlo is in recovery and out of the woods,” the surgeon said. “I replaced about two inches of her trachea.”
“Replaced?” Dino asked. “With what? A plastic tube?”
The surgeon shook his head. “The real thing, from a cadaver.”
Dino’s face fell. “From a cadaver?”
“Don’t get all creeped out, Lieutenant, it’s a standard procedure these days. We transplant bone, cartilage, all sorts of body parts. It works. Her injury was below her voice box, so her speech won’t be affected. She’ll be on her feet in the morning and out of here in a few days.”