Chapter Four
She stared at him. "And you think I'm the one who worries? What on earth would make you think that I'd pay to have myself kidnapped?"
"That's not what I think might happen."
She sighed. "Obviously, there is something here you don't want to tell me about, but in the end you know you're going to have to. Why don't you just make it easier on both of us?"
Lennie had to smile. "You been eavesdropping on our interrogations, or is this just a natural talent?"
"I'm taking a correspondence course. Don't try and change the subject."
"Okay. What do you want to know?"
"I want to know whatever it is you don't want to tell me."
"Look, Judith. . . Aw, hell. Listen, there are some not very nice people involved in all of this, you know."
"Uhhhhhh, yeah, Lennie – I figured that part out. I was the first one to see those tapes – remember?"
"Well, there are more of them now, and the stakes are a lot higher," he said, and then he did tell her what Tony had said about being afraid of Rapina's operation.
"But that has nothing to do with me."
"It potentially could have everything to do with you. Don't you see? Unless he's flown away to Mars, pretty soon Rapina is going to know we're looking for him. And I'm sure it's probably already all over the gallery that you had something to do with the arrests there this morning. It's not a stretch that someone – Rapina and/or one of his merry crew – might put it together."
"And come after me because you're. . . "
"You've got it. Satisfied?"
"You really think that could happen?"
"I don't know. I hope not, but, as I said, it's not impossible. So, first thing in the morning, I'm driving you to your mother's."
"You've. . . You've got to let me think about this."
"There's nothing to think about."
"Lennie. . . Lennie, just please don't be that way. I really can't stand it. I'm not necessarily disagreeing with you, but I want to think it through on my own."
"Well, while you're thinking, think about this – you want this abduction thing to stop, don't you?"
"Of course. You know I do."
"The only way that's going to happen is if we bring in Rapina. And I can't work on doing that if I'm constantly worrying about you. You can understand that, can't you?"
"Yes, sure. Sure, I can understand that."
"Then you'll go?"
"Isn't there some other way? I don't want to be stuck in Washington Heights away from you and with nothing to do for God knows how long."
"It might not be that long if we get lucky."
"But you can't say for sure."
"You know it doesn't work that way."
"So, this could be, like, weeks?"
"I sure hope not, but just consider it a little vacation. I'm sure your mother will enjoy having you around for a little while."
"Talk about worrying. Just what am I going to tell her?"
"I don't know. Maybe I can help you come up with something after dinner. I'm really hungry. It's late, so you want to order take-out?"
They ordered take-out but never did come up with any completely satisfactory story for Mrs. Schoenberg.
"How about telling her you're not feeling well and just want to get some rest for a few days?" suggested Lennie.
"Then we'll spend all day, every day, arguing about my going to a doctor. I can't handle that."
"Maybe you're having problems with me?"
"After what I went through to get her even to be willing to meet you? I don't think so."
"Okay – here's a good one. . . Your apartment's being renovated."
"It just was before I moved in, and it hasn't been all that long. And it would damn well have to be renovated before the next time she came over here. Also she would wonder why I'm not going to work."
"Well, neither of my ex-wives would believe I'm saying this, but when all else fails, there's always the truth."
"Oh, right. Let's see. . . 'Mother, Lennie's afraid professional kidnappers are going to come after me.' That'll go over really well."
"It really might be the best thing. You won't have any story to have to keep straight, and she can field phone calls in case anyone is looking for you."
"But she'll worry. And you know how she is."
"Well, then, just tell her that she's been right all along and that you've discovered you really do have Stockholm Syndrome after all. Let her go back to worrying about that."
Despite the situation, Judith nearly choked on her laughter. "Don't mention that, Lennie! You know it always cracks me up."
"At least it's the first time I've seen you smile all night."
"There's not been much to smile about. So, okay, I'll tell her the real story, and she'll just have to deal with it."
"Why don't you call her now and tell her to expect you first thing and that you'll explain when you get there?"
"Okay, good idea. Then let's get you to bed – to sleep. You've been up since four."
When he arrived at the 2-7 the next morning, Ed looked pointedly at the clock. "You're late, partner. We've got a lot of work to do this morning."
"I know, but I drove Judith to Washington Heights. She's going to stay at her mother's place for a little while."
"You're worried about them going after her, aren't you?"
"You think that's far-fetched?"
"Could be, but it's probably better being safe. How'd you get her to go?"
"Don't ask."
"That bad, huh?"
Lennie nodded. "So, what do you want to do first?"
"Well, I've got a pretty good feeling that we'll probably know who the vic is by sometime today, so let's you and I take Rapina's picture around to his previous digs and see if we can get a lead on where he might be now."
Starting with the most recent address Tony had given them, they went to all four of Rapina's last studios, and it was a descent from pretty posh to decidedly seedy. Sure, everyone remembered Rapina. No, no one knew where he might be now. And he always paid in cash. They were about to start on the sites of the "ordeals," when Ed got a call on his cell. Lennie could tell he was very pleased.
"Our vic has a name, Lennie – Mr. Blake Carswell. Some sort of big retail executive."
"Got an address, I hope?"
"On Central Park West."
"We might have guessed that. Let's go."
At Blake Carswell's apartment building, they first talked to the doorman.
"Mr. Carswell? Sure I know him. Nice enough guy, I guess."
"When did you last see him?"
"Oh, let's see. . . Now that you mention it, it's been a while."
"Like how long a while?"
"Last Thursday – or Friday, maybe. Definitely not since then."
"Do you know if he left town?"
"Can't say. I'm not here 24/7, you know. But I didn't see him leave with any luggage or anything like that."
"Is this him?" Lennie showed him the picture from the morgue.
The doorman recoiled. "What happened to him?"
"Is it him?"
"Yeah. . . Yes, that's him. He doesn't look so good there, but that's him all right. Is he dead?"
"We're going to need to get a look in his apartment," Lennie told him.
"You're going to have to talk to Mrs. Carswell about that."
"Mrs. Carswell? There's a Mrs. Carswell? Where's she?"
"In her apartment, of course. She just gave some tea party or something. All those lah-dee-dah ladies. Some charity thing. I think the last of them just left before you
got here, but she hasn't come out. This is gonna be a shock for her. Terrible thing."
"Thanks for your help."
"Sure thing." And he let them into the building.
In the elevator, Lennie and Ed just stared at each other.
"Her husband's been missing for almost a week, and she's giving a tea party?" Lennie wondered aloud.
"And she never reported him missing either. So, she apparently doesn't know. We're gonna have to tell her, Lennie. Always fun."
"Yeah, but I also want to find out where she thinks he is."
"That'll be interesting."
At the apartment door, they identified themselves to a uniformed maid. "Certainly. Please wait here. I'll see if Mrs. Carswell is available," she told them. In a few minutes she returned and said that Mrs. Carswell would see them in her study.
Her "study" looked to Lennie like one very fancy living room. Mrs. Carswell was seated on a sofa, her arm draped across the back of it. A woman as elegant as her setting, she did not get up. Lennie guessed her to be about Judith's age, but there the resemblance ended. She was blonde with hair wrapped so tight on the top of her head that he couldn't imagine why it wasn't giving her a splitting headache.
"Do forgive me, gentlemen," she said without a trace of a smile. "I've just hosted a little soiree, and I'm utterly exhausted. How might I help you today?"
"Actually, Mrs. Carswell, we're here about your husband," Ed told her. "Look, may we sit down?"
She languidly indicated a couple of armchairs but did not apologize for having left them standing.
"Do you know where your husband is, Mrs. Carswell?" Lennie asked.
"More or less. Not exactly."
"Not exactly?"
"Oh, it's the Cascades or something. One of those boring places where there are a lot of mountains and rivers. I don't really know."
Well, she's got the river part right, thought Lennie. "Haven't you heard from him?"
"No. Why would I?"
How about, for starters, because you're married? he wanted to ask, but instead he inquired how long Mr. Carswell had been gone.
"Oh, the end of last week sometime. I don't really remember."
"And it doesn't concern you at all that you haven't heard from him?"
"Of course not. He's on one of those fantasy survival trips. Foamy water boating or something. Is that what they call it?"
Lennie and Ed glanced at each other uneasily. Could it be the doorman was mistaken and this wasn't the right guy at all?
"Look, Mrs. Carswell, do you have a picture of your husband?"
"Of course. Somewhere." And she looked around the room. "There – over there." And she indicated the opposite wall of the room. "Try the third shelf down. There are some framed photos." She did not offer to get up.
Lennie did get up, and he compared their photo with a couple in the frames. He nodded at Ed, who heaved a sigh.
"Mrs. Carswell, I'm afraid we have some bad news for you," Ed began. "Your husband was found dead on Monday morning."
Her eyes widened, but she didn't otherwise move. "Blake? In the Cascades?"
"No, ma'am, right here in New York."
"But. . . But how could that be?"
"That's what we were hoping you could help us find out. Did you actually see him leave to go on his trip?"
Something caught Lennie's eye on the desk. It was only partially visible under a file folder, but he was sure it was another one of the "Urban Experience" brochures. It was hard for him to resist sliding it into full view, but he didn't want it to become the 4,607,532nd piece of evidence that he'd had thrown out by a judge.
Mrs. Carswell was telling Ed that she really couldn't remember if she had seen her husband leave on his trip.
She can't remember whether or not she saw her husband leave on a cross-country trip? he wondered. His own two marriages had been bad, but he was quite sure that either of his wives would remember something like that.
Lennie asked, "Mrs. Carswell, do you suppose we could get a look at where Mr. Carswell keeps his luggage?"
Her eyes widened even more than when Ed had told her Carswell was dead. "His luggage? Whatever for?"
"Well, if you can't say for sure that he left on that trip, how do you or we know if he really did leave?"
"Oh, that is absurd. Where else would he be?"
"The fact, Mrs. Carswell, is that he is in the morgue," Ed pointed out.
"Oh, yes, that's right – you told me that, didn't you?"
Ed looked at the woman very carefully. "Ma'am, are you okay? Forgive me, but I have to say that you are not reacting very appropriately."
She shrugged. "Who's to say what is appropriate, Detective? In your line of work, don't you find that people have various ways of reacting to sad news and grief?"
"Yes, ma'am, that is true, but it's very seldom that we come across wives who don't know where their husbands are for days at a time."
Again she shrugged. "Blake and I are independent people. I didn't keep up with him every second. Now, if you gentlemen are done, I'd appreciate it if you would leave me alone now. I expect that I will have to begin making some arrangements."
Not wanting to tip his hand, Lennie carefully considered his next question. Just testing the water, he asked, "Well, if you didn't see him leave on this trip, or don't remember if you did or not, is it possible that someone on your staff might have? Maybe helped him pack? Drove him to the airport?"
"I really have no idea."
"We're going to need to talk to them," Ed told her.
"That really would be utterly tiresome, Detective. I told you that I've just had a gathering here. Everyone is busy cleaning up."
"Ma'am, I'm afraid you really don't understand. You see, your husband is the victim of. . . "
"No, that's okay, Detective Green," Lennie interrupted him. "Mrs. Carswell has a lot to deal with here. We can come back at some more convenient time if it's necessary."
"Well, thank you," said Mrs. Carswell. "Good-bye."
When they were back in the elevator, Ed burst out, "Lennie, what in the hell was that, man? You finally losin' it? That woman is. . . "
"I know. Ed, I think I saw an 'Urban Experience' brochure on her desk."
"Whoa, Lennie! Are you sure?"
"About 95% sure. We've got a lot of checking to do. We're going to need to look at the exhibit guest list and the Carswell's LUDs – see if anyone ever dialed the number on the brochure. And we need to look for anything that proves one way or the other that Carswell actually ever even planned a trip to the Cascades."
It took them most of the rest of the day to track down these details, but the answers were yes, yes, and no. In fact, despite her grief at her boss' passing, Carswell's secretary nearly doubled over in laughter at the notion of her boss involved in any sort of wilderness survival or white water rafting.
"You've got to understand, Detectives, that he not only wasn't at all the type for that sort of thing, but with his heart condition. . . "
"He had a heart condition?" asked Ed.
"Yes. It wasn't a secret. He was looking at some surgery in the long term, but he wasn't quite yet a candidate for it. He was supposed to take it easy on physical activity. But even if he were in perfect health, Mr. Carswell in a tent? You just don't know how funny that is. He was a wonderful man, but his idea of roughing it was Atelier rather than Le Cirque"
"So, if you knew that there was no way he'd be on a wilderness holiday, just where did you think he's been all these days?"
"Mrs. Carswell called me last week and told me that he had had to take a sudden trip out of town. Since I didn't hear from him, I figured it was a family emergency, and I didn't pry – just did the best I could to field things here in the office."
"We're going to need a copy of Mr. Carswell's schedule for the last three weeks," Ed told her.
"Certainly."
Back on the street, Lennie said, "This isn't adding up at all."
"The wife was lying through her teeth. I think we need to chat a little further with her – this time at our place."
"Yeah, but it's late. Let's put a watch on her for now and deliver that invitation in person tomorrow morning. I like to save the really fun stuff for when I'm fresh."
Ed agreed that they probably had made enough progress for one day, and Lennie went home. He'd really intended to go to his own apartment, but he wound up at Judith's and couldn't exactly figure out why. Finally, he admitted to himself that he already was missing her. He dialed her mother's number.
"Oh, it's you," Mrs. Schoenberg greeted him frostily. "I was beginning to think you really cared about Judith, Leonard. How could you do this to her?"
He sighed and guessed he was back to Square One with the mom. He could hear Judith's voice in the background. ". . .not his fault. . . . . .explained to you. . . . . . me the phone. . . . . .please. . ." Finally Judith came on the line.
"Lennie. How's it going?"
"Somewhat better than it sounds like it's going there. Maybe I gave you a bum steer about that going with the truth thing."
"Oh, we couldn't have done anything else," she sighed. "She'll settle down – eventually. Have you made any progress?"
"Yeah, some. We're not there yet but maybe closer."
"And you're not going to tell me any more than that, are you?"
"Sorry, no. Look, you suppose I could come over there for a little while? It's strange being home and not seeing you."
"I'd love for you to, but you really don't need to put up with what you'd have to hear here right now. Just get your rest, and concentrate on the case like you said."
He knew she was right. He said goodnight and promised to call again tomorrow. Damn you to hell, Coco Rapina, he thought. Hardly ever did he take cases personally, but this one was screwing with his life, and he wanted it over.
Bringing Elaine Carswell in was a predictable headache. Why did so many of the very wealthy think that rules didn't apply to them? After they danced that whole dance with her and finally had her in the IR, Lennie asked her again if she wanted a lawyer. She had threatened several times to call one but hadn't followed through on it. He'd rather she did than make up some story later about how they had prevented her from doing so.
"Why would I?" she asked, every word clinking like an ice cube on glass. "You tell me I am here 'voluntarily.' Why don't we maintain that fiction for a while?"
"Mrs. Carswell, you do understand why you're here, don't you?" asked Ed. "You know why we have to talk to you again?"
"I know what you said, but, really, I fail to see why we couldn't have this conversation at my home. This hardly is the sort of place that I. . . "
"You see, people who don't lie to us get to stay on their own turf," Lennie explained to her, "But you don't play it straight and you wind up coming over to play at our house."
She just glared at him.
Ed sighed. "Why the cock and bull story about your husband being in the Cascades?"
"I told you what my husband told me. If he lied to me, that's not my fault."
Lennie dropped his head and smiled. Crooked rich people had not only the propensity to be pains in the ass but fortunately also tended to be very stupid. He practically could get a meter maid off the street to handle this one and go take himself a three-hour lunch.
"You know, Mrs. Carswell," he said, "I'm like a kid in a candy store with you. I don't even know where to start."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Why didn't you tell your husband's secretary that he was going to the Cascades?"
"It's none of her business where he goes."
"And no one saw him leave?"
"Blake's a private person. He doesn't announce his every move."
"And there's no credit card record of payment to a travel agent or airline?"
"I know nothing of such details. As I said, if he was lying to me, it's hardly my fault."
"Okay, Mrs. Carswell, here's a great big one," said Ed. "Your husband had a heart condition that restricted physical activity, and you just let him go off on a wilderness adventure?"
"When Blake took a notion in his head, there was no talking him out of it."
"Even if it might kill him?"
"I'm not his mother."
Lennie briefly considered asking the woman on what planet she had been born, but he decided just to make short work of it. "How'd you enjoy 'Urban Experience,' Mrs. Carswell?"
"I beg your pardon?"
He placed a brochure from the exhibit on the table in front of her.
"Oh, um, yes – the exhibit at the Lovell Gallery. I attend so many."
"Mrs. Carswell, are you sure that there isn't something you want to tell us? Now would be a very good time."
The woman put her head in hands. Her shoulders heaved slightly once or twice. Lennie tried to figure out what was going on with her.
When she looked at them again, she was dry-eyed and composed. "All right, Detectives. I was trying to spare my husband's memory, but if you know this much, I might as well tell you the rest."
So pat, thought Lennie. What bullshit are we going to hear next?
"The floor's all yours," Ed urged.
"Well, when we attended that exhibit, it really fired my husband's imagination. He got to thinking about all the things he no longer could do because of his heart condition."
Like the whitewater rafting the secretary told us he wouldn't be caught. . . Well, strike that last part, but, still. . . And Lennie just let her go on and see how deep a hole she could dig herself.
"And he. . . Well, he decided that he wanted to prove something to himself."
"By getting himself kidnapped?" Ed asked. "Is that what you're telling us?"
"Yes. If you've put this brochure in front of me, you know what it says. Testing the subjects' limits? Well, Blake was just so devastated about his medical condition that he wanted to prove to himself that he was still a man. You understand?"
Lennie and Ed glanced unbelievingly at each other. "So, why the Cascades story?" Ed finally asked,
"If. . . Well, if he weren't going to come home, that's what he would have wanted people to think."
Lennie asked his Higher Power for strength. "What he would have wanted people to think instead of what?"
"Instead of that he engaged this artist's services."
"So," asked Ed, "He made arrangements to have himself kidnapped?"
"Yes, I told you – that is correct."
"Okay, Mrs. Carswell, let me get this all straight. . . " Lennie, who had been standing, took a seat at the table opposite the woman. "You know your husband has called this artist, engaged his services, and it's five or six days later, and you're not getting worried that you haven't heard from him?"
"Detective, this artist is in very high demand, and, if you will excuse me for stating the obvious, Blake and I are in a position to afford the very best. He didn't tell me the details, but I naturally assumed that he would contract for the top-of-the-line abduction with all the flourishes. So, I supposed that he was off having the time of his life. Why would I be worried? Apparently something did go wrong, but I had no way of knowing about it."
Lennie once again speculated on the possible extraterrestrial origins of the woman across the table from him. Take it, Ed, he mentally willed his partner.
"So, Mrs. Carswell, you definitely are telling us that your husband contracted with this abduction artist?" Ed asked.
"For the third time, that is correct. I just didn't think. . . Well, I'm sure that if that is what caused Blake's death he wouldn't have wanted it in his obituary. So, instead I told you about his dream of the mountains and rivers adventures. That's all I can tell you. May I go now?"
"There's just one more little thing," said Ed. "Since you're the grieving widow here and all, we've been trying to give you every possible chance, but do you know about a little investigative tool we have called LUDs?"
The woman very nearly yawned. "No, Detective, I have very little knowledge of your work, and, I assure you, far less interest."
Lennie broke in. "LUDs, Mrs. Carswell, tell us what phone calls are made from what number to what number and when. And we're wondering why two calls were made from your home number to the one on the brochure during times people can place your husband elsewhere."
"I would suppose your records are in error."
"They're not," Ed told her. "I think you have a whole lot more explaining to do."
Elaine Carswell was silent for a moment and then said, "I would like to call my attorney now."
Outside the IR, Lennie asked Van Buren, "Arrest her now or later?"
"Not until she gets her lawyer and we talk to Abbie. I'll call her and stall Carswell and her lawyer just as long as I can. Why don't you guys use that time to see what you can turn up as far as a motive? Start with Mr. Carswell's will and follow the money – it's usually the quickest route."
Lennie and Ed did so and were not surprised to find out that except for a few insignificant bequests, Elaine Carswell was going to get everything.
"Well, that was easy enough," said Lennie, "But now I'm wondering why it wasn't enough for her to spend it while he was still around. Didn't look to me like he was depriving her in any way."
"Unless she wanted to spend it with someone else."
"A boyfriend!"
"I'd put money on it, Lennie. Okay, so who knows about women's boyfriends?"
"Their girlfriends – learned that one from Van Buren. Let's go back and talk to that doorman about who was at that tea party yesterday."
Again, it was almost too easy. They got several names of women right in the neighborhood, and fortunately the idle rich loved to gossip as much if not more than the working class. From three women all too happy to dish, they got the same name – Dan Bianski, a young soap opera heartthrob and thus someone who should be easy enough to find.
"You know, Lennie, Carswell might be going at it hot and heavy with this Biansky, but I doubt that she'd bring him in on her scheme. He's an idiot."
"You a closet soap fan, Ed?"
"No, but I did see him on Celebrity Jeopardy. To say he has air for brains would be slandering the good name of air."
"Still, let's check with the soap production company."
They did and learned that Dan Biansky was four weeks into a six-week leave of absence to do a film on the West Coast.
"So, that means he was gone before the exhibit opened. You could be right, Ed – maybe she didn't see any reason to get him involved and then just present him with her lovely self. . . "
". . . and her husband's lovely money. . . "
". . . when he gets back."
"Think it's enough for motive?"
"It's enough to take to Carmichael."
Van Buren blinked in surprise to see them back so soon. "You guys didn't give up that fast, did you?"
"Give up? Lieu, I am deeply offended by your underestimation of our investigative abilities. You send us out for motive, and we bring home motive."
"It's not a pizza, Lennie. This better be good."
"How'd you go for she gets everything and she's been doing the horizontal tango with a TV star practically half her age?"
"Wow. I'd have to say that's pretty good."
"Yeah – well, just remember it come evaluation time. So, did Carswell's lawyer show?"
"He's with her right now, and Abbie should be here anytime."
"This is all very good work, gentlemen," the ADA told them when they laid everything out for her, "But let's not lose sight of our main goal here."
"Coco Rapina," sighed Lennie. "I know – believe me, I know."
"Yes, and his crew. Do you think she can give him to us?"
"It's possible," said Ed. "She made her calls to him since he vacated the last address Tony gave us. But what are you going to have to give her? I'd hate to see this lady walk. She's got an iceberg where a heart should be."
"That's what I want to think about very carefully. And I'm going to have to talk to Jack. So, let's leave it this way. If, when she and her lawyer finish, she wants to tell us anything helpful, fine – but don't let on yet how much we want Rapina. If she doesn't say anything helpful, there's no reason not to arrest her. It's too late for her to be arraigned today, and a night on Rikers might encourage a more cooperative spirit."
"Gotcha, Counselor."
Just then, Carswell's lawyer emerged and informed them that his client was ready "to clear up this misunderstanding."
Lennie, Ed, Van Buren, and Abbie exchanged "This-oughta-be-good" looks.
Back in the IR, Ed said, "Mrs. Carswell, we understand you have something more to tell us."
"Well, yes, you didn't quite give me the chance before, but. . . "
Yeah, yeah, yeah, thought Lennie, because it was you who stopped the conversation by asking for a lawyer.
". . . I did make those calls because I wanted to ensure my husband's safety during the abduction experience."
"But who made the original deal for the abduction?" asked Lennie.
"Oh, really, Detective – this is becoming so incredibly boring. I think this must be at least the fourth time I've told you that that was my husband."
"And there are no records of any phone calls to the artist from any phone your husband used – why?" Ed wanted to know.
"I assume it is your job to discover that sort of thing, Detective. If it is any help to you, you might consider that he might have used a pay phone."
Both Lennie and Ed barely managed to suppress smiles. "A pay phone? One of those dirty things used by the great unwashed?" asked Lennie. "How many of your husband's friends and associates do you suppose we can find to tell us they've ever seen Blake Carswell use a pay phone?"
She shrugged. "I have no idea. This is all I can tell you."
"And now that this matter has been cleared up," said her lawyer, "I assume that Mrs. Carswell is free to. . . "
Lennie went to the woman and grasped her shoulders. "Stand up, please, Mrs. Carswell."
Ed intoned, "Elaine Carswell, you are under arrest for the murder of Blake Carswell. You have the right to remain. . . "
That evening when Lennie phoned Judith at her mother's place, he was surprised and concerned to hear her answer. "Judith, why are you answering the phone? I thought we agreed. . . "
"It's okay, Lennie. After what you had to hear last night, I ordered caller-ID for her. If the call is from one of our numbers, I'll pick it up. If not, I'll let Mother get it."
"Okay – good idea. So, how are you doing over there?"
"Oh, not too bad. Doing some drawing, a little reading, watching the soaps with Mother – okay, but pretty boring."
"The soaps? She watch one called The Seeking Heart?"
"Yes – actually, she loves it. Why would you ask?"
"It came up today. You see a guy on there named Dan Bianski – plays a character named Warren?"
"I didn't know the actor's name but, yes, I saw a character named Warren. But it looked to me like he's being written out. Going to look for his lost brother in Antarctica or some such nonsense. Mother's all upset about it because he's her favorite, and she's afraid he's going to get killed."
"Would you date him?"
"Date him? Are you crazy? He's a pretty boy, but he's probably young enough to be my son. Why are you asking such a bizarre question?"
"Was just wondering about something we found out today. And tell your mother not to worry. I have some inside info – Warren will be back in a few weeks."
"I'm sure she'll appreciate that, but it leads me to ask – have you and Ed been doing anything other than watching soap operas? Like anything to do with clearing this case so that I can come home?"
"Actually, I'm sure you'll hear about this tomorrow, but we arrested the victim's wife."
"His wife? Really? What about Rapina?"
"We're not quite there yet."
Judith sighed. "Soon, Lennie?"
"It could be. Just wish us the same luck we had today, and it could be soon."
"You know I do. Lennie?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't want to be all clingy or anything, but I, um. . . I mean, I. . . "
"I miss you, too, Judith."
He heard her draw her breath in sharply. "You do?" she asked dubiously.
"Well, think about it – can you remember the last time we didn't see each other for two days, even it was only for a few minutes?"
"I. . . I guess that's true. I just didn't know you were keeping track."
"I wasn't – not until this happened."
"Well, um, it would be really great to get back to normal, wouldn't it?"
He sighed. "We're doing our damnedest. You just stay put, and be careful."
They said goodnight, and Lennie slept better than he had in the last three nights. In the morning, just as he was about to leave for the precinct, Judith's phone rang. He considered letting the machine get it, but on an impulse he picked it up. A nervous girl's voice was on the line, asking for Judith. Lennie vaguely recognized it as belonging to Sadie, a quiet young woman who was Judith's part-time assistant and an art student at Manhattan College.
"Sadie? This is Lennie. We've met, remember? Do you have a message for Judith?"
"Well. . . Well, not a message exactly. It's just that a couple of men have been calling for her here."
"A couple men? Why do you say a 'couple' men?"
"The voices. The voices weren't the same. A couple had accents."
"Sadie, this is kind of important. Can you tell me everything you remember about these calls?"
"Let's see. . . I wrote the first one down here on her calendar the day before yesterday. It was at about 10:45."
"What'd he say?"
"Just that he needed to talk to Judith. I figured she was just late coming in, so I told him that."
"And then?"
"Later in the day, at about 1:30 another man called and said the same thing. By that time, Mr. Kirkpatrick had told me that Judith wouldn't be in for 'a while.' I didn't know exactly what that meant, but it's what I passed along."
"Were there any more calls?"
"Yes. One yesterday. And then one just now, which is why I'm trying to call her now. These men sound like it's really important to get in touch with Judith, but they wouldn't leave messages."
"Sadie, look, if you get any more calls like this, tell them that Judith has been briefly out of town on a project but that you expect her back almost any time. Can you do that? As I said, this is very important."
"Well, yeah, sure," she said uncertainly, "But what if they ask me any other questions?"
"That's all you know. Okay?"
"Sure. That's what I'll say. Is Judith okay?"
"Judith is fine. Thank you very much, Sadie."
When he ended that call, Lennie dialed the precinct and left an order with the desk sergeant for a stat order of the gallery's LUDs. Likely the calls were coming from that damned unlisted cell of Rapina's, but there still was a chance that they might not be.
Then he dialed Abbie Carmichael who wasn't in yet, but he asked for and spoke to Jack McCoy who was. Probably been there all night, Lennie thought. "Jack, what's the chance of holding off on that arraignment, or at least making sure that it doesn't get into the papers?"
"Slim to none, Lennie – unless you can give me some very good reason."
"We can't tip Rapina that we're that close to him." And Lennie explained the phone calls to Judith. "There's a chance that Mrs. Carswell can give us his present location."
"That might involve giving her a deal we don't want to."
"Think about it, Jack. You can get one broad who offed her hubby, or you can get Rapina and stop this shit from happening again."
McCoy didn't speak for a moment. "Okay, Detective, I'll do what I can to delay the arraignment. You and your partner meet Abbie at Rikers and have another go at Mrs. Carswell. I'll authorize Abbie to offer her consideration in exchange for any information that might pan out."
"Thanks, Counselor."
"I know you've been in this one for the long haul, Lennie. I hope it will work out."
Two and a half hours later, Lennie and Ed were with Abbie, Mrs. Carswell, and her lawyer in a conference room at Rikers. Mrs. Carswell looked a lot worse for wear for the night she had spent.
"Look, Mr. Mackey," Abbie began, "We're prepared to be generous with your
client, but she's going to have to give us some more solid information than she did yesterday."
"We don't have any idea to what you might be referring, Miss Carmichael, and as for my client's arraignment being delayed, we are going to file a very strong. . . "
"Save it, Mr. Mackey," Abbie told him. "It's truly in Mrs. Carswell's best interest that we don't arraign her yet. We want to know everything about the deal she made as to her husband's abduction."
"She's told you. . . "
Lennie was losing whatever little patience he had left. "We know it was you who set this up. What we want to know now is did you ever meet with Coco Rapina?"
Mrs. Carswell and her lawyer conferred in whispers.
"What could we expect if Mrs. Carswell were to give you that information?"
Lennie drew in his breath sharply. Then she did meet with him. If we can find out about it quickly enough, maybe he'll still be there.
"I can tell you what you can expect, Mr. Mackey, if she doesn't," said Abbie. "What you can expect is that we'll proceed with what we have, and that includes layers of lies, knowledge of her husband's heart condition, phone calls to the abduction service, and one whopping motive. Sounds pretty good to me for at least Murder Two."
The woman and her lawyer conferred again, this time at some greater length. In frustration, Lennie banged his hand on the back of the chair where he was standing.
Finally, the lawyer said, "Suppose Mrs. Carswell were to give you an address where you might be able to find Mr. Rapina if he were still available there?"
"We'll take that information and get back to you," answered Abbie. "What you can expect is that your client won't be in any worse shape."
"And that's all we're getting?"
"For now, that's all you're getting," Abbie said firmly.
The attorney sighed. "Go ahead, Elaine. All it can do is help you."
"All right. I did meet with Mr. Rapina. Is that all? May I leave here now?"
Lennie flipped open his notepad and thrust a pen at her. "Where? Write it down!"
She wrote out an address in Soho, and Lennie snatched up the pad.
"Get us a warrant, Counselor?"
"You bet. You guys go on ahead, and it'll be waiting for you. And good luck."
Go to Chapter Five --