“And because you need him to cover your ass,” Benton said. “Perception will be that Oscar called your office for help a month ago and you dropped the ball. Marino dropped the ball. No one will work harder to cover your ass than a person who needs to cover his own. That’s the cynical solution. But you’re lucky. He also doesn’t miss much. In fact, he’s probably the best person you’ve got in your whole damn squad. You just haven’t figured it out yet because he’s easy to underestimate, and now you’re biased. Let me guess. He took it upon himself to take a look at the scene, and he found what might be the most important piece of evidence. Her laptops. Where the hell were they? Under the floorboards?”
“Packed inside a piece of luggage in her closet. Obviously, something she planned to carry on the plane she was to take to Phoenix this morning. That and another packed suitcase,” Berger replied.
“Who found out she was planning on flying to Phoenix this morning?”
“Oscar said nothing about it to you last night?”
“He didn’t say anything to me about anything last night. He cooperated with the evaluation, and that’s it, as I’ve said. So her travel plans weren’t known last night? If not, who found out about them and how?”
“Well, that would be Marino, who’s a good investigator and doesn’t quit once he starts. All true. And he’s a lone ranger because he’s been out there long enough to know you don’t divulge information just because the other person’s a cop or even a prosecutor or a judge. People in criminal justice are the worst gossips and the least likely to keep their mouths shut when they should. You’re right about him, and it’s going to make him some enemies. I can see it coming, which is all the more reason what’s surfaced about him is so unfortunate. Apparently, he tracked down Terri’s parents in Scottsdale before anybody else—including Morales—did, and delivered the death notification. They mentioned she was planning to fly home to spend several days with them. That’s what prompted him to go to her apartment.”
“Let me guess,” Benton said. “No plane ticket lying around that might have given the cops a heads-up last night. Because these days everything’s done electronically.”
“Right.”
“That explains why I didn’t see any luggage in the crime scene photos Morales gave me.”
“Those photographs are from his search—the first search. I can see why the carry-on was missed last night. Not saying it’s good that it was, but I can see it.”
“You suspect it was deliberately hidden?”
“You mean, by someone like Oscar?”
“Wouldn’t make a whole lot of sense.” Benton thought about it. “If he’s worried about her computers, why didn’t he remove them from the scene? Why hide them in her closet?”
“People do a lot of things that don’t make sense, no matter how meticulously they plan a crime.”
“Then he’s pretty disorganized. If he’s the killer,” Benton said. “But one thing Terri wasn’t was disorganized, based on the photos of her apartment I’ve seen. She was extremely neat. A possible theory? She might have finished packing for her trip and put the luggage out of sight herself, because she was having company. I think it imprudent to assume Oscar planned any crime. I’m not ready to assume he killed her.”
“You know the old saying, Benton. Don’t search for unicorns. Start with the ponies. Oscar’s the first pony on my list. The most obvious. Problem is, we have no evidence. Nothing yet.”
“At least Oscar can’t beat you to the draw when it comes to whatever’s on Terri’s computers. He doesn’t have them, and he doesn’t have access to the Internet on the ward,” Benton said.
“And that was his choice. He doesn’t have to be up there. And that continues to strike me as extremely suspicious and cause me great concern about his mental stability. Whether we found the laptops or not, he must know we’d gain access to her e-mail once we determined her username or usernames, her provider. And that would lead us to his e-mail, because I can’t imagine he and Terri didn’t e-mail each other regularly. Yet he doesn’t seem to care. Were he not up here in isolation, he might have had a chance to rush home and start tampering. But he didn’t try that. Why?”
“He may not feel it’s necessary because he didn’t do anything wrong. Or maybe he’s not computer-savvy enough to tamper and get away with it. Or if he’s the killer and premeditated her murder, he did his tampering in advance.”
“Excellent point. Premeditation by someone who thinks he’s smarter than we are. He tampers in advance, then checks into Bellevue because he’s allegedly afraid the killer will get him next. In other words, he’s manipulating the hell out of everyone. And probably having a good time doing it.”
“I’m objectively presenting possibilities,” Benton said. “Here’s another one. He’s not the killer but knows everyone will suspect he is, and by checking into Bellevue, he earned the right to see me, to see Kay, and perhaps convince somebody who matters that he’s innocent and in danger.”
“Don’t tell me that’s what you really believe.”
“What I believe is he thinks Kay is his sanctuary. No matter what he did or didn’t do.”
“Yes, he has her because he can’t trust me. I believe my new moniker is ‘superbitch.’ ” Berger smiled. “Or at least I hope it’s new—the super part of it, anyway.”
“In his mind, you dissed him.”
“If you’re referring to when he called my office a month ago—like half the crazies in the city do every day? True. I wouldn’t talk to him. Nothing unusual about that. A lot of calls I never even hear about, much less take. He referred to me as a ‘superbitch.’ Adding if something bad happened, it would be my fault.”
“And who was it he said this to?” Benton said. “Marino? During their phone conversation last month?”
“It’s on tape,” she said.
“Hope that never makes its way into the press.”
“That certainly wouldn’t be helpful. Because something bad did happen. Very, very bad, indeed. There’s no question we have to be careful with Oscar Bane. Ordinarily, I’d be much more vigorous with someone in his situation. And by the way, I do suspect he murdered his girlfriend. It’s what makes the most sense. And that certainly would make his paranoia situational. He’s afraid of being caught.”
She picked up her briefcase as she pushed back her chair, and her skirt hiked up enough for him to see the hollow between her slender thighs.
“Without proof,” Benton said, “we shouldn’t dismiss what Oscar says. It’s possible he’s being followed. We don’t know for a fact he’s not.”
“That, Nessie, Bigfoot. Anything’s possible. Seems to me, no matter what, I have a PR bomb ticking, a legal bomb ticking, because we didn’t take him seriously when he called last month. And what I don’t need is the Little People of America picketing One Hogan Place. I definitely don’t need another problem. Seems I have more than my share. Which reminds me, and I’ll just say it.”
She paused to collect her coat, and they passed through the crowded cafeteria.
“If there’s a scandal,” she said, “do I need to worry that Kay might discuss it on CNN? Could that be why Oscar gave us no choice about getting her here? He wants the news coverage?”
Benton stopped at the cashier’s desk to pay the bill.
When they were outside the cafeteria, he said, “She would never do that to you.”
“I had to ask.”
“Even if she were the type, she can’t do it,” Benton said as they walked toward the atrium. “She’s either his physician or she ends up your witness.”
“Not sure Oscar thought of all that when he demanded an audience with her, demanded she pay a house call,” Berger said. “Maybe he thought he was giving her some grand pre-interview.”
“I don’t know what the hell he thought, but I shouldn’t have talked her into it. I shouldn’t have let anybody talk her into it.”
“Now you’re sounding like a husband. And by anybody, you obviously me
an me.”
He didn’t answer.
Her high heels clicked on polished granite.
“If and when Oscar’s charged,” she said, “it may turn out that what he’s telling Kay is the only information we ever get that might be remotely reliable. It’s good she’s examining him. Good for a number of reasons. We want him happy. We want him treated extremely well. We want him safe and everyone around him safe.” She put on her coat. “When Marino interviewed him over the phone, Oscar started throwing around the term hate crime. He said he was a little person, made that point repeatedly to Marino, who of course didn’t understand what a little person was. Had to ask him. Oscar, by now quite agitated, answered, ‘Fucking dwarf.’ Said that’s why he was being followed, targeted. It was a hate crime in progress. . . .”
Berger’s cell phone rang.
“Kay’s going to have to be told Marino’s here,” she added as she put on her wireless earpiece.
She listened for a moment, and anger touched her face.
“We’ll see about that,” she said. “This is completely unacceptable. . . . Did I expect it? Well, it’s become the pattern, now, hasn’t it, but I hoped . . . No, no, no. I can’t. Certainly not in this case . . . Well. I’d really rather not . . . Yes, she is, but due to certain circumstances, I hesitate . . . Indeed, I did. Who the hell hasn’t seen it?” She looked at Benton. “Then maybe you understand why I don’t want to do that . . . Uh-huh. I’m hearing you. I got it loud and clear the first time you said it. I suppose I could find out if she’s willing and get back with you. But I wouldn’t blame her for wanting to get the hell out of here, catch the last shuttle to Logan. . . .”
She ended the call.
They were outside the hospital now, on the sidewalk. It was almost four, and getting dark, and very cold, and their breath was as thick as smoke.
“Marino doesn’t mean to hurt people,” Benton felt compelled to say. “He didn’t mean what happened.”
“You’re saying he didn’t mean it when he raped Kay.” Matter-of-factly as she put on gray mirror-finished glasses that hid her eyes. “Or is what’s all over the Internet today untrue? I wish to hell you’d sent him to some office other than mine. He’s fully involved in this goddamn case, and there’s no way to keep the two of them apart indefinitely. You have to talk to her.”
“What’s in that gossip column gives a false impression.”
“A forensic linguist would have a field day with that statement. But I’ll take your word for it. What’s on the Internet’s a complete fabrication. Glad to hear it.”
She pulled on kid-leather gloves and turned up the collar of her shorn mink coat.
“I didn’t say it was completely untrue,” he replied.
He stared at the distant Empire State Building, lighted red and green for the holidays, a warning beacon flashing atop its spire to remind aircraft to stay clear. Berger placed her hand on his arm.
“Look,” she said in a gentler tone. “You should have told me the real reason Marino left Charleston, left Kay, is because of what he did to her. I’m going to work very hard at being understanding. I know what it must have done to you. Of all people, I should know.”
“I’ll fix it.”
“You won’t fix anything, Benton. What you’ll do is move forward. All of us have to move forward and be smart each step of the way.”
She removed her hand from his arm, and it felt like rejection.
“It’s astonishing you’d do anything to help him,” Berger added. “You’re quite the friend to him, I must admit. But if we’re talking motive? My guess? You hoped if you helped him, covered up for him, it would make what he did untrue. But now the world knows. You want to guess how many calls I’ve had today? About that goddamn column?”
“You should ask him. He was drunk. Don’t fire him.”
“Every rapist I’ve locked up was drunk or on drugs or both or it was consensual or she started it or it didn’t happen. I won’t fire him unless he brings it upon himself. I’ve decided this is Kay’s battle. Not yours. Not Lucy’s. Although I fear Lucy’s not likely to see it that way.”
“Kay’s dealt with it.”
Hands in her pockets to ward off the cold, Berger said, “Really. Then why this big to-do about her not knowing he works for me? Why the secret? I thought it was all about his walking off the job, decompensating because of you and Kay, because he was jealous—which has always been as obvious as the Empire State Building you seem fixated on. He decided it was time to let her go and clean up his act. Stupid me. I never called Kay to corroborate your story. I didn’t ask for references. Because I trusted you.”
“He’s tried. He’s tried harder than anyone I know. That should be obvious to you. You’re around him. You need to ask him about him. Let him tell you what he did,” Benton said.
“For the record, you lied to me.”
She was looking for a taxi.
“For the record, I didn’t lie. And he didn’t rape her.”
“Were you there?”
“She said it didn’t go that far. She never pressed charges. To her it’s a private matter. It’s not my place to talk about it with you or anyone. She didn’t even tell me at first. Yes, fair enough. Delusion, my head in the sand. Poor judgment, probably. But what was in the gossip column this morning is distorted. Go ahead and ask Marino. I assume he’s seen it. Or he will soon enough.”
“And Lucy? Just so I know what to expect.”
“She’s seen the column, of course,” he said. “She’s the one who called me about it.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t kill him on the spot, as much as she adores her Aunt Kay.”
“She almost did.”
“Good to know. Not so long ago, she would have. You owe me a favor.”
A taxi perilously swerved toward her and lurched to a halt.
“I need Kay to drop by the morgue tonight,” she said. “And you’re just the person to ask her.”
She climbed inside the taxi.
“The phone call I got a few minutes ago?” She looked up at him and said, “I need Kay to examine the body, if she’s willing. I’m afraid Dr. Lester’s playing her usual games with me. We’re tracking her down. She’s getting her ass back to the morgue asap and will cooperate if I have to call the goddamn mayor.”
She pulled the door shut. Benton stood on the sidewalk in the cold and watched Jaime Berger’s yellow taxi speed away, cutting off two other cars to a cacophony of angry honks.
9
Scarpetta examined long, shallow abrasions on the left side of Oscar’s upper back as he volunteered how he got them.
“He was already inside, and he attacked me,” he was saying. “He ran off, and I found her. The police didn’t believe me. I could see it on their faces. They think I got hurt because I struggled with her. You can tell, can’t you? That I didn’t struggle with her?”
“It would be helpful if you’d describe to me what you were wearing last night,” she replied.
“You can tell these injuries aren’t from my struggling with her. They won’t find my DNA under her nails. She didn’t scratch me. She didn’t fight with me. We never fought. Maybe just an argument now and then. She was already dead.”
Scarpetta gave him a moment, he was crying so hard.
When he was quieter, she repeated the question. “Last night. What were you wearing when you got into the struggle with—?”
“I couldn’t see him.”
“You’re certain it was a him.”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what time this was?”
“Five o’clock.”
“Exactly?”
“I’m never late. All the lights were out. Even the entrance light was out. All her windows were dark. It didn’t make sense. She was expecting me. Her car was there on the street. I parked behind it. There were empty spaces. Because it was New Year’s Eve, and a lot of people were gone. I took my coat off and left it on the passenger’s seat. I had on a T-shirt a
nd jeans. She likes me to wear tight T-shirts, sleeveless ones. She loves my body. I work on it because she loves it and I’d do anything to please her. She loves sex. I couldn’t be with a woman who doesn’t love sex.”
“Regular sex, rough sex, creative sex?” Scarpetta asked.
“I’m very considerate and gentle. I have to be. Because of my size.”
“What about fantasies? Such as bondage. It’s important I ask.”
“Never! Never!”
“It’s not a judgment. A lot of people do a lot of things, which is fine. As long as it’s all right for both of them.”
He was silent and uncertain. Scarpetta could tell he had a different answer than the one he wanted to give.
“I promise, there’s no judgment,” she said. “I’m trying to help. It doesn’t matter what consenting adults do as long as it’s all right for both of them.”
“She liked me to dominate,” he said. “Nothing painful. Just hold her down. To wrestle her down. She liked me to be strong.”
“Hold her down how? I’m asking because any information can help us figure out what happened.”
“Just hold her arms down on the bed. But I never hurt her. I never left a mark on her.”
“Ever used any types of bindings? Handcuffs? Anything like that? I’m just making sure.”
“Maybe her lingerie. She likes lingerie, to dress in very sexy ways. If I tie her hands with her bra, it’s very loose and I never hurt her. It’s just an idea, a suggestion, never real. I never spanked her or choked her or did anything real. We pretend, that’s all.”
“What about to you? Did she do these things to you?”
“No. I do them to her. I’m strong and powerful, and that’s what she likes, to be taken advantage of, but only the idea of it, never for real. She’s very, very sexy and exciting, and tells me exactly what she wants, and I do it, and it’s always amazing. We always have amazing sex.”
“Did you have sex last night? It’s important I ask.”
“How could I have? She was gone. It was so awful when I walked in and found her. Oh, God. Oh, God!”
Scarpetta Page 11