Chapter Five

            In the car, they worked their way through the Queens traffic to the address that hadn't been one on Tony's list. 

            "You think his studio will still be there, Lennie?  Or do you suppose it's already 'floated' away somewhere?"

            "All I know is what I'm hoping."

            Lennie's beeper sounded just as Ed was turning west on 495.  "Ed, it's Judith.  I doubt she's calling just to say 'hello.'"

            "Here – use my cell."

            He punched in the number, and Mrs. Shoenberg answered on the first ring.

            "Leonard?  Yes, Judith needs to talk with you right away."

            "Lennie?  You didn't just try to call from my place, did you?"

            "No. . . "

            "Then someone is there.  Lennie, I'm scared."

            "Did you pick it up?"

            "No, I almost did but then figured it was too late for you to be calling from there."

            "Good – good.  Judith, sit tight.  Keep having your mother answer the phone, but don't anyone answer the door.  I'll be back in touch from this number."

            "Lennie, be careful!"

            "Ed!  Judith's good-for-nothing doorman may just have given us a break!  I'm going to call for some uniforms to get over to her place!  Let's get on to Rapina's!"

            The warrant did indeed beat them there, and Ed and Lennie scouted out the building.  The address they had indicated that Rapina's place was the loft, and they thought it best to request backup before going in.

            The door was answered by a burly bearded man in a black turtleneck and a leather coat who looked vaguely familiar to Lennie. 

            "Mr. Rapina, he does not see visitors not invited," he informed them menacingly in heavily accented English.

            "I think he'll make an exception in our case," said Ed, flashing his badge and indicating for the two uniforms to go in.

            Another leather-coated figure, practically a twin of the first, appeared in the doorway and said, "Rapina, he not here."

            "Curious paradox," said Lennie.  "Someone who won't see us isn't in anyway.  And you know what?  I'm not very interested in the explanation."

            The two leather coats looked at each other uneasily and then stood away.  And then Lennie remembered that the perps on the videotapes usually were dressed more or less like these two guys. 

            As the detectives and uniforms entered, Ed closed the door behind them, and said to the two thugs, "Don't you gentlemen even think about going anywhere."

            Meanwhile, Lennie looked around the loft – a typical artist's studio but with a lot of electronic equipment strewn here and there.  In a far corner, a man was on his hands and knees alternately hammering, stapling, and sewing things on to a large black piece of canvas. 

            Lennie strode over to him and asked, "Coco Rapina?"

            The man did not look up from what he was doing but said, "If you know enough to have found your way here, you must know who I am."

            "Mr. Rapina, stand up, please."

            "I really can't be bothered right now."

            Lennie stepped across the black canvas and pulled the man to his feet.  It wasn't hard.  He was very slight, and he had dark olive skin, a goatee, and wild curly hair.

            "Please stop!  Can't you see you are messing. . . "

            "Mr. Rapina, we have a warrant for your arrest and to search these premises."

            "That is absolutely ridiculous," protested Rapina, trying to shake himself loose from Lennie's grip, but the cuffs already were on him.  "What could you possibly think I have done?"

            "How does murdering one Mr. Blake Carswell sound to you?  You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to. . . "

            "That is absolutely preposterous!" spluttered Rapina.  "Mr. Carswell is perfectly fine."

            "Yeah, everyone on a slab in the morgue is perfectly fine.  Maybe you oughta try it sometime.  You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."

            "So, you do. . . did know Mr. Carswell, correct?" asked Ed.

            Rapina opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it.  All he would say was, "I want an attorney."

            "Fine!" snapped Lennie and asked one of the uniforms, "Anyone, anything else here we should know about?"

            The answer was negative, so he said, "Okay, bag all of the cameras, tapes, and photos, and seal this place up.  Mr. Rapina and his two friends will be spending some quality time with us at the station."

            "We?" protested one of the leather-coats.  "We do nothing."

            "You work for him, don't you?" asked Ed.

            "Not like that," said the other.  "We are in-de-pen-dent con-tractors."

            "That's right," the first one agreed vigorously.

            "Well, right now, you're going to be independently contracting yo' butts into a squad car.  Bring 'em along!"

            On the way to the 2-7, Ed received a call and told Lennie, "Two more leather-coats were picked up at Judith's.  They were going through her address book, but it doesn't look like they touched anything else."

            Thank God for small favors, thought Lennie.  Her home being violated was going to be hard enough for her to handle.

            At the precinct, Van Buren asked, "Okay, what do we have?"

            "One Mr. Coco Rapina as per warrant, two associates caught in the act of breaking and entering – no problem there – and two others we've brought along for questioning.  Just hope we can hold them somehow because they look an awful lot like the abductors on those tapes," said Lennie.

            "Really?  Well, five in all!  Not a bad morning's work!  But didn't Tony indicate there were more of them?"

            "It's a start," pointed out Ed.  "Maybe the ones we have dead to rights will be willing to talk.  And if Rapina really didn't know that Carswell is dead, we might get the others out of him."

            "All possibilities," sighed Van Buren.  "Well, I'm going to get Abbie over here and see in what order she wants to tackle this mess.  We'll get Cordova to go through the cameras and tapes and stuff and see if she can spot Mr. Carswell.  And make sure our Mr. Rapina is comfortable until his lawyer arrives."

            Lennie couldn't wait to get into the IR with Rapina, but he had to be patient until the artist's lawyer arrived.  They conferred for what seemed like a very long time, and then the lawyer, a Ms. Parnell said that her client "might" be willing to answer "some" of their questions as they pertained to the matter of Mr. Blake Carswell.  Well, that's really big of him, thought Lennie.

            Rapina was small and nervous, and didn't look at all like someone who could cause the kind of trouble he had.

            "Let's make this as short and sweet as possible," said Lennie, "Because, frankly, Counselor, I'm not much liking sharing the air with your client."

            "There's no need to get personal, Detective," the young woman snapped.

            "And you have no idea how personal your client already has made it.  Now what we want to know is did he sell his services to Mr. Blake Carswell?"

            Ms. Parnell nodded at Rapina, and he said, "No, I did not."

            "But back at your studio, you told us he was fine," said Ed.  "You recognized the name."

            The artist and his lawyer looked at each other for a long moment.  Finally, she said, "The question was did Mr. Rapina contract with Mr. Carswell.  He told you he did not."

            "Okay, Coco, let's try it this way," said Ed.  "Suppose you tell us everything you know about Blake Carswell."

            Ms. Parnell snorted.  "You think I'm going to let my client answer an open-ended question like that?  If you've got something specific you want to know, ask it.  Otherwise, we're all wasting our time."

            "You wanna play Twenty Questions?  Fine!" barked Lennie.  "Did you ever meet Mr. Carswell?"

            "No."

            "Mrs. Carswell?"

            "Yes."

            "And did she contract for your services?"

            "Yes."

            "To kidnap her husband?"

            "To abduct her husband."

            "Did Mr. Carswell ever consent to this abduction?"

            Rapina glanced at Ms. Parnell who nodded slightly and said, "It's best."

            "As far as I know, not explicitly."

            "'Not explicitly?'  What the hell does that mean?" asked Ed.

            Rapina dropped his eyes and said nothing.  A person very guilty of something, thought Lennie.

            "Look, Rapina, I'm watching you and your lawyer here, and it looks to me like she's explained to you that it's in your best interest to cooperate."  Lennie glanced at Ms. Parnell who didn't confirm that but didn't object either.  "It also looks to me," Lennie continued, "Like maybe you did something you're not so proud of.  Believe me, you're going to feel a lot better if you tell us about it now and have the chance to work something out with the DA rather than to have to tell a jury about it later."

            The lawyer looked as if she'd rather eat ground glass than agree but said, "The detective is correct, Mr. Rapina."

            Little by little, the story emerged.  Shortly after the "Urban Experience" opening, Elaine Carswell contacted Coco Rapina and asked to meet with him.  At his studio, she gave him a long song and dance about how very much she and her husband enjoyed the show but that Mr. Carswell was "wistful" that such an experience had to be "so contrived."  Her grand idea was that she would arrange an abduction for him as a surprise.

            "Naturally, I refused," said Rapina.

            "'Naturally?'  Why naturally?" asked Ed.  "I thought that was your whole deal."

            "Not to contract with third parties, Detective.  That would be. . .   Well, that could. . . "

            "What?" asked Lennie.

            "Well, get me into trouble."  And he glanced ruefully around the shabby IR.

            "It never occurred to you that contracting even with a second party for this sort of thing could get you into trouble?" Lennie wondered unbelievingly.

            Rapina shrugged.  "I wasn't breaking any laws.  I checked.  And it was a win-win situation.  I found the raw material of my art, and my clients found the excitement they craved."

            "Yeah, well, we heard all that crap from your friend Tony," said Lennie, not wanting to rehash it.  "Let's get back to you and Mrs. Carswell.  I assume she talked you into it?"

            "Eventually, yes."

            "What'd she do – double your fee?"

            "She offered, but I still said 'no.'"

            "So, what did do the trick?"

            Rapina at least had the grace to look embarrassed.  "She tripled it."

            "Okay, very important," said Ed.  "Did she ever mention to you about any medical condition her husband had."

            "No, she did not."

            "Did you bother to ask?"

            "Actually, I did.  We ask all our clients that, specifically things such as do they have a bad knee or back – something to which we would want to avoid injury if possible during the abduction."

            "So, what exactly did she tell you when you asked about her husband's health?" asked Lennie.

            "That it was perfect and the experience should be as realistic as possible."

            "And you believed her?"

            "I believed this was something she very much wanted to give her husband."

            "So, what did she contract for exactly?"

            "That was sort of odd, actually.  For as much as she was spending, we could have arranged something much more elaborate, but she maintained that he would be happy with a simple off the street snatch and a three-day Beirut-style hostage ordeal."

            Lennie and Ed just stared at each other, and even the attorney looked uncomfortable.

            "So, man, you were gonna, like, keep this guy bound and gagged for three days?  Is that what you're telling us?" Ed asked finally.

            "Well, we'd give him water, a little food, of course.  It's standard.  All in the book."

            "Book?  What book?"

            "Well, I had gotten so busy with my work – the art – that I couldn't be bothered for every routine abduction.  I wrote it all out so my, um, assistants could carry out the arrangements on their own.  Of course, some clients prefer to customize their experiences, in which case I have to become more closely involved.  But Mrs. Carswell just chose a scenario straight out of the book."

            "So, what happened to Mr. Carswell?" Lennie asked.

            "Apparently you know more about that than I.  I had no idea he was dead."

            "What did you think happened to him?"

            "I assumed everything went according to plan.  He was in the completed column, and Mrs. Carswell didn't seem much interested in an artistic rendering of the event although I told her that with what she was paying I would throw that in for free.  She said she'd get back to me on that."

            "Hold it, hold it, hold it," said Ed.  "Back up to 'the completed column.'  What's that?"

            "Finished, done, inactive.  I never heard of any problem, so I figured all went well."

            "So, Mrs. Carswell never called you to find out about her husband?"

            "No."

            "Okay, Rapina, then I guess this is the Great Big Question – which ones of your little leather-coated elves did the Carswell job?"

            "I, um, couldn't say."

            "It's not in your famous book?"

            "Well, once it would have been, but since the gallery opening. . .   Well, quite honestly, we've been so busy that we've gotten rather sloppy about record keeping."

            "I think that Mr. Rapina has told you gentleman all he knows about this Carswell case.  I assume you are going to tell the ADA that he has cooperated fully?" asked Ms. Parnell.

            "Not until we have a complete list of everyone who's ever been employed in this little enterprise," Ed told her.

            Ms. Parnell glanced at her client who looked very scared.  He didn't say anything at all.  "I'll see what can be done about that," she said.  "Perhaps you better leave us alone now."

            "Not so fast, Counselor," said Lennie.  "There's another crime we want to question him about – a breaking and entering."

            "A breaking and entering?" asked Rapina, puzzled.  "I don't think we've done one of those for the longest time.  And even then we were always careful to arrange things in advance so that it wouldn't be a real breaking and entering."

            "Oh, this was plenty real, and it occurred just this morning."

            "Well, then it couldn't have been related to my work.  I have not made arrangements for any such experience."

            "And what if it turns out that the thugs who did it work for you?"

            "I would have to assume that they were engaged in some independent activity."

            "So, it would all be just a coincidence, would it?"

            Rapina held out his hands and shrugged.

            "Actually, quite a coincidence that the victim is an employee of the Lovell Gallery, wouldn't you say?"

            "Okay, that's enough," said Ms. Parnell, firmly.  "That's a matter that we're going to have to take up at another time after my client and I have had a chance to confer.  Now, what about the ADA?"

            "Oh, I imagine you're going to be talking to her sooner than you think," said Lennie.  "Come on, Ed – I need some air."

            Outside the IR Lennie and Ed found Van Buren and Abbie.  For a long moment, they all just looked at each other.

            "Did you get all of that, Abbie?" Ed finally asked.

            "Enough.  I've never heard anything like it."

            "Well, what's he guilty of?" asked Lennie.

            "You've got me there.  Maybe Man Two – reckless endangerment – but even that might be a stretch.  You're going to have to find the guys that actually handled Carswell.  Can you do that?"

            Lennie sighed and mentally prepared himself for long sessions with the leather coats.

            "Speaking of Mr. Rapina's associates. . . ," said Van Buren.  "Lennie and Ed, have you yet seen the two guys picked up at Miss Sandler's apartment?"

            Lennie shook his head.

            "Well, come look here.  I think you might find this most interesting."  She led them to another IR where those two leather coats were conferring with a lawyer.

            "See anything similar to the ones you brought in?"

            "Yeah," said Ed, "Apparently they all wear the same uniform.  So what?"

            "It's more than that.  Take a closer look."

            "Well, I'll be damned!" Lennie said.  "Their builds, hair, very similar features. . .   I thought the two at Rapina's place looked like brothers, but all four of them could be."

            "Or at least very closely related," said Van Buren.

            "You know," remembered Ed, "They did have a kind of an accent."

            "Some sort of ethnic crime family?" Lennie wondered aloud.

            "We'll have prints on the two from the breaking and entering soon enough.  Work that angle for now."

            It was a long and frustrating afternoon.  Lennie wished for some of the same luck they had had with Mrs. Carswell the previous morning, but it was not to be.  Rapina was too scared to name his employees, and none of the leather-coats would talk, not even the two who could get a deal on the breaking and entering charge.  The only thing they got was the name of one of that pair – Sergei Ivanov, with a couple of minor felonies on the record.  And Abbie got a material witness order for the two they picked up in Rapina's apartment.  So, at least five of them are off the street for now, thought Lennie.  I guess that's something.  Through Tony's lawyer, they also were able to ascertain that he was sure that Rapina had more than four assistants – just how many more he couldn't say, but more than four.  And, yes, they tended to be quite similar in appearance.

            "Well, what do ya say, Lennie – knock off and leave these Ivanovs for tomorrow?" asked Ed.  "I'm really not thinking straight any more today."

            "Yeah.  Yeah, that sounds like a plan," Lennie said thoughtfully.  "I'm going up to see Judith."

            "That maybe would be a good idea after what happened this morning.  She's probably pretty freaked."

            Actually, Lennie was thinking that he was going to do a bit more than just see her.  He called to let her know that he was on his way, went and got her car, and plowed through some very heavy traffic.  On the way, he wondered if Mrs. Shoenberg had settled down at all or if that was going to be a battle.

            It was Mrs. Shoenberg who let him into her apartment.  He could tell she was less than pleased to see him, but at least she didn't rebuke him the way she had the other night on the phone.  She led him to the living room where Judith was waiting.  He immediately took her in his arms, and she clung to him tightly.

            "I will maybe, um, get us all a nice glass of tea, I think," said Mrs. Shoenberg, leaving them alone.

            "You okay, Judith?" he asked her quietly.

            She nodded.  "I am now.  I'm just so glad to see you."

            "Yeah, well, we've got to talk.  You, me, and your mother."

            "Come on – come over here and sit down.  You've got to tell me what's been going on.  You didn't say very much on the phone."

            "We've got Rapina, at least for now, but Abbie's not sure she can make the charge stick."

            "And his. . . "

            "Four of them, also under lock and key for the time being."

            "Do you think that's all of them?"

            He sighed.  "No, afraid not, honey.  We know it's not all of them."

            Judith's mother returned to the room with a tray of tea.

            "Thanks, Mrs. Shoenberg.  It's been a long day."

            "Mother, sit down with us here, please.  Lennie says we need to talk."

            "I certainly hope it's something about getting Judith out of this situation that you... "

            "Mother," Judith interrupted.  "You promised – you know you did."

            "Look, ladies, what I want to do is take both of you back to Judith's place where I can keep a better eye on you."

            Both women paled.  "Lennie, is that such a good idea?" Judith asked.

            "A better one than you staying here alone."

            "But they broke in there."

            "Yeah – see, I figure that's the point.  They likely won't try that again.  On the other hand, they do have this number.  These guys don't come across as real deep thinkers, but they may have enough brains to trace it, so I don't want you two alone here."

Judith considered this.  "I guess that does make sense, but, Lennie – my apartment?  Is it. . . "

"It's okay.  Really.  I was just there.  The super's already installed another lock."

            "But inside?  I mean. . . ?"

            "It's fine.  Apparently they were after only one thing.  All they touched was your phone and address book."

            Judith heaved a sigh of relief.  "I know I shouldn't be worrying about material things at a time like this, but. . . "

            "That's just natural, honey.  Everyone feels that way after a break-in.  I've seen plenty enough to know."

            "What about my place, Leonard, if we leave no one here?"

            "On the way in, I stopped by the local precinct and made sure that someone will be keeping an eye out."  Lennie didn't say so, but he was thinking that it might be a very good thing if some more of Rapina's gang did show up so that the local guys could nab them.  Because the two at Judith's were caught in the act, chances probably were slim that they had a chance to pass the Washington Heights number along, but maybe they did, or maybe they did since their arrest.  It was worth a shot.

            "Well, Mother," said Judith, "I guess we're going downtown."

            "Oh, I don't know," Mrs. Shoenberg said uncertainly.  "This is all so sudden.  How do we know it's the right thing to do?"

            "Look, Mother – Lennie's had a lot of experience with these things.  I'm sure what he's suggesting is best."

            Lennie actually had no intention of it's being a "suggestion" but didn't want to come on strong with the mother unless he had to.  Too much horrible history there.  The last thing any of them needed was for Mrs. Shoenberg to perceive this situation as being dragged from her home by police.

            Judith, Lennie was sure, was thinking pretty much the same thing.  He knew from what she had told him that it didn't take much for her mother to dredge up some very bad memories.

            "Mother, I'll help you pack a few things – okay?"

            "If. . .   If you really think. . . "

            Judith put her hand on her mother's and said firmly, "Yes, I really think it's what we need to do.  Lennie and his partner are making good progress on this case, so I'm sure it won't be for long.  You'll be able to come back here really soon."

            Although he knew he wasn't the mother's favorite person at the moment, Lennie decided it couldn't hurt to turn on a little charm.  "Come on, Mrs. Shoenberg.  You know this is going to be a real treat for me, don't you?"

            "And how is that, Leonard?"

            "Well, we're going to have to stop for dinner on the way, you know.  How often is it guy gets to walk into a restaurant with not just one but two gorgeous ladies?  You wouldn't deny me that now, would you?"

            The older woman regarded him dryly.  "I would suppose you are familiar with the term chutzpah?"

            "Familiar with it?" he laughed.  "Why, Mrs. S., I never leave home without it!"

            In spite of herself, Mrs. Shoenberg smiled.  "Well, I guess that you two have talked me into this.  I hope only that it will be the right thing."

            Once back at Judith's apartment after a pleasant enough dinner, things got a little awkward again.  While Mrs. Shoenberg was hanging up her clothes in Judith's guestroom, Lennie said, "She does realize, doesn't she, that I do, um, stay here?"

            "I, uh, couldn't say, Lennie.  I don't know what she does and doesn't realize about that.  She has her Old World ways, as you well know, and that's not something often discussed."

            "I'll sleep on the couch if you think that's best, but obviously I am not leaving."

            Judith sighed.  "No, you won't sleep on the couch.  I'm forty-nine years old, this is my home, and I already missed too. . .   Well, she's going to have to deal with it – that's all."

            "Whatever you say, babe.  I'm sure not gonna try to argue myself on to the couch.  But I will try to be discreet, okay?"

            "Thanks, Lennie," Judith smiled.  "But I am going to have to warn you that she's a night owl.  She'll be in here until all hours watching TV.  So, when you want to go to bed, just go.  With any luck she'll be paying more attention to Leno than to you."

"If you're sure it'll be okay?"

"It'll be fine.  You've got bigger things to worry about right now."  Judith looked around her living room.  "Gosh, it sure is good to be back home, even if those two creeps were in here.  And what I'm going to do is get some disinfectant on that phone."

            "Good."  He knew that was a common way robbery victims had of exorcising the violation – it would help her get over it.

            Sometime before 5am, Lennie's beeper went off.  Blearily he tried to focus his eyes on the readout.  When he saw the number, however, he was wide awake – the 3-4 in Washington Heights.  Could it be?  Was it possible the long shot turned out to be real?

            Judith was awake by then.  "Lennie, what is it?"

            "Just sit tight, hon – I gotta make a call."  He punched in the number from the beeper.  "Briscoe from the 2-7.  What have you got for me?" 

            He smiled at what he was hearing.  "No kidding?  That's great!  Don't let them out of your sight.  We'll be there soon.  Thanks!"

            "So? " asked Judith.  "What?"

            Lennie hesitated.  Force of habit dictated that he say nothing about an ongoing investigation, but this did involve her.  On the other hand, she might not handle well knowing that. . .

            "Oh, for heaven's sake!"  She rolled over to the phone and punched *69.

            "Judith!" he protested.

            "Washington Heights!  Oh, my god, Lennie – you were right!"

            "Look, this is a good thing.  Really.  No harm was done, and it looks like we might have three more of them."

            "But if you hadn't. . . "

            "I did.  You're here.  You're safe.  Now don't worry about anything.  I've gotta get dressed and get with Ed."

            "You're leaving?"

            "Don't worry."  He was sure that under the circumstances he could get Van Buren to spring for an officer to keep an eye on the two women.

            At the 3-4, he and Ed found a very nervous detective named Nicholson.  "Look," she told them, "We shouldn't even be holding these guys.  They didn't do anything that we know of, and they won't tell us anything.  They were just in the vicinity and bore a general resemblance to the description you gave us."

            "Just let us get a look at them," Lennie told her.

            She led them to a holding cell where three more leather coats-regarded them sourly and threateningly. 

            "Oh, these are our guys, for sure," Ed told her.  "Thanks, Nicholson – we'll take it from here.  Lennie, I'm gonna call Carmichael."

            Ed excused himself to make the call, and Lennie regarded their latest acquisitions curiously.  As with the others he encountered yesterday, he had the same general impression of an air of stupidity mixed with cunning – always a dangerous combination.  They muttered to each other in what he guessed probably was Russian.

            "Okay, Lennie," said Ed, returning.  "Abbie says that if we're sure they're enough like the others, they're ours."

            "Okay, wrap 'em up.  They're going home with us."

            "Oh, and these fellas don't know just how much they're gonna enjoy themselves.  Abbie says that we're all having a little party – her, us, McCoy, and everyone involved up to their sorry asses in this abduction crap."

            As a 3-4 uniform was unlocking the holding cell, the leather-coats became excited.  "We go now?" asked one of them.

            "Yeah, you go now," said Lennie.  "With us."

            "No, no.  We cannot.  We go somewhere else."

            "See, that's not how it works," explained Ed.  "Your presence is requested elsewhere, and the DA gets pretty upset when you turn down his party invitation."

            "DA?  Ohhhhh." said the same one, as if he had just heard some very bad news.  "You mean Dee-strict Attorney?"

            "That's exactly who we mean!" Ed snapped.

            The leather-coats looked meaningfully at each other.  The one who had been speaking sighed and said, "Okay, we go, but first we have to stop.  Feed man.  Okay?"

            "Feed man?  What man?" asked Lennie, puzzled.  And then with a sick feeling it began to dawn on him exactly what was going on.

            "In gottic dungeon.  Time to feed him.  It's in book."

            "No, not dungeon man," protested another one of the three, speaking for the first time.  "Man at Gestapo.  Time we get man at Gestapo."

            "Indian lady," chimed in the third.  "Help Sergei with Indian lady today."

            "Not Indian lady!" said the first one and then turned almost apologetically to the open-mouthed cops.  "His English not good.  He mean lady captured by Indians."

            "What in the hell are these guys squabbling about?" Detective Nicholson asked Lennie and Ed.

            Lennie briefly put his hand across his eyes and sighed.  "I'd say that you really don't want to know, but I think that we're going to need your help – maybe a lot of it.  Ed, call Abbie back.  And Van Buren, too.  Tell them we're gonna be delayed – probably major delayed."

            Lennie couldn't remember when he'd had a longer or more bizarre day chasing around the city.  Twelve hours later, by his count they'd found and released the man chained to a brick wall in the mock-up "gothic dungeon," the man tied to a chair in a facsimile of a Gestapo headquarters, the couple who were spending their honeymoon "bonding," as they explained, by being bound and gagged on a filthy mattress in a terrorist-style kidnapping, a man held on a "Death Row," the man hanging naked upside down in the court of Catherine the Great, and a woman in a S&M setting he didn't even want to think about ever again.  And that's not to mention having to call the Long Island cops to go find a guy being held for some reason Lennie never could figure out in a snowbound cabin and having to explain to a very disappointed lady in Central Park why she would not be being captured by Indians that day – and, no, they couldn't refund her money.

            "But where'd they get the snow?" wondered Van Buren as they reported to her that evening back at the 2-7.  "It's May."

            "Lieu," he said wearily, "I don't know where they got the friggin' snow, and I don't care.  You'll have to ask the LI guys about that one.  All I know is that we rounded up five more leather-coats in the process, and I'm hoping to God that's all of them."

            "What about the so-called victims?  Were they all okay?"

            "Yeah, more or less," said Ed.  "The guy in the dungeon was very hungry, and his wrists were bleeding a little bit, but he wouldn't even let us send him to the hospital.  We just got their names and addresses, told them to keep themselves real available, and got someone to run them home."

            "Yeah, and their undying gratitude was overwhelming," contributed Lennie.  "I've been called nicer names at drug busts."

            "Face it, Briscoe," quipped Van Buren, "I guess you're just not the stuff of fantasy!"

            Lennie was too tired and too disgruntled for a comeback.  "Idiots," he fumed.  "Every last one of them idiots.  There oughta be a law against it so that we could have arrested them, too."

            "Write Albany," Van Buren advised.

            "Yeah," said Ed.  "Maybe they'll call it 'Lennie's Law.'"

            "Oh, you two are a regular comedy act.   Why don't you do me a favor and take it on the road because right now I'm not much in the. . . "

Ed interrupted him, "So, now what do we do?" he asked her.

            "Well, let's see. . .   We have how many leather-coats now?"

            "Twelve," answered Ed.  "Plus Rapina, of course."

            "Oh, I forgot to tell you," said Van Buren, "While you guys were out running around Fantasy Island, Abbie got a line from OCCB on these guys."

            "Really?  Who are they?"

            "Well, we were right that they are mostly closely related – brothers, cousins, a couple brothers-in-law – most of them named Ivanov.  And most of them have at one time or another done some minor jobs for the Russian mob, but the word is that they're kind of flaky, so their involvement in any big time stuff is peripheral at best."

            "Oh, this just keeps getting better and better," Lennie griped.  "Russian mob wannabes – not even the real thing."

            "Yeah, well, you better be grateful that the real mob didn't get hold of this idea, or we might have a real mess on our hands," Van Buren told him.

            Lennie wondered if this wasn't a "real mess," what was.

            "Anyway," she was saying, "We can't lose sight of the whole point here – we still need to figure out what happened with Mr. Carswell and who made it happen with him.  Abbie and McCoy are going to have a little meeting with the lot of them at nine Monday morning, and she needs you guys there."

            "I hope they've rented out the Garden," muttered Ed.

Van Buren ignored him.  "With any luck, maybe by this time Monday this will be a closed case."

            "With any luck," Lennie echoed.  "Yeah, let's hope so.  I really don't want to hear the word 'abduction' ever again." 

            When he let himself into Judith's apartment a little while later, he found Judith curled up in an armchair with a book and Mrs. Shoenberg and Officer Kilcrease of the 2-7 together on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune.  Lennie walked him to the door and thanked him.

            "Hope you didn't get too bored," he told the young officer.

            "Nah, it was okay.  And these ladies are real good cooks.  I've pulled worse duty."

            "Haven't we all?" sighed Lennie, thinking of the day he'd just had.

            Back in the living room, Judith steered him into the kitchen so that they could talk away from the blare of the TV.  To hell with the ongoing investigation, he said to himself and told her everything that had happened since he had left that morning.

            She just stared at him, her big green eyes getting even bigger.  "Come on!  You made half of this stuff up, didn't you?"

            "Honey, I'm too tired to make anything up.  In fact, I've probably even forgotten a couple of the little scenarios we walked in on."

            She sighed.  "Well, I suppose when we put it in the greater context, we really can't be surprised."

            "We can't?" asked Lennie, raising his eyebrows.  "I'm surprised, and I thought I'd seen it all."

            She pushed the day's newspaper across the kitchen table to him.  "Check out the TV schedule.  How many of those bizarre reality shows do you see there on any night?  Even PBS has gotten in on the act.  People letting themselves in for all sorts of things.  How long could it be before someone else other than the TV networks decided to cash in?"

            Lennie pondered that.  "If you're right, and I hope you're not, there's nothing to stop this from happening over and over again.  More Mr. Carswells."

            "Exactly.  I guess it would be naive to think that this case would serve as any kind of deterrent?"

            "I've never found that that's the way it works.  Someone always thinks that he's going to be the one who will get away with it."

            "So, what happens now?"

            "Guess we go to the DA's meeting Monday and see what shakes out."

            "Well, how about around here?  Are we back to normal?  Can Mother go home?  Can I go back to work?"

            Lennie hesitated.  "Let's give it another day or so, okay?  It doesn't seem possible that we don't have them all, but who knows?"

            "I don't mean to complain, but this is getting really old, Lennie."

            "I know, doll," he sighed. "I know."

            On Monday morning, finding himself uncomfortably squeezed into a conference room with Ed, Abbie, McCoy, Rapina, Rapina's twelve henchmen, Ms. Parnell, and another defense attorney, and one other person he'd never seen, Lennie once again wished for this case to be over.  Even though it really only had been a week since Mr. Carswell's body was found, it seemed like forever.  He supposed it was because the whole abduction artist crap had come up so long before it actually turned into a case.  He thought back to the morning Judith had first alerted him to what was going on at the gallery.  Good thing she did, he speculated, or we probably wouldn't all be sitting here today hopefully about to wrap this up.  If it hadn't been for that brochure, we never would have had a clue about Carswell.  Still, he never recalled a case having such an impact on his personal life, and he didn't like it at all.

            McCoy and Abbie glanced at each other, and he nodded at her to begin. 

            "Seeing as it is rather close in here, I'm sure that we all would like to make this short.  Here is our position on this matter:  Unless we turn up anything more, the charge we are bringing against Mr. Rapina is Manslaughter Two, reckless endangerment.  The other. . . "

            "That is absolutely outrageous!" protested Ms. Parnell.  "My client has done nothing illegal."

            "Our position, Ms. Parnell," said McCoy, "Is that your client ran a business that recklessly endangered the lives of how many people we don't know, but we do know Mr. Carswell, and he is dead.  Therefore, Man Two."

            "You'll never make it stick, Mr. McCoy.  And, by the way, where is Mrs. Carswell – since she's really the one responsible for this little gathering?"

            "We are dealing with Mrs. Carswell, and she is not your concern.  And if it hadn't been Mrs. Carswell who brought us all here together on this fine morning, it would have been someone else.  Sooner or later, it would have been someone else.  So, there you have the charge, and we'll talk with you later about a plea if you are so inclined."

            "Oh, we'll be talking, all right," fumed Ms. Parnell.  "In front of a judge.  I'm going to be drawing up a motion. . . "

            Abbie held up her hand.  "Not now, okay?  You draw up all the motions you think necessary, but right now we have more ground to cover.  The charge against these other gentlemen is Murder Two, depraved indifference."

            Now it was the turn of the other defense attorney to splutter.  Then the person Lennie hadn't recognized began to interpret for the Ivanovs.  A little back and forth with the lawyer, and then general consternation among the leather-coats.  Abbie and McCoy waited calmly.  Lennie looked around for a water cooler.  There wasn't one, and he couldn't have gotten to it if there had been as sandwiched in as they all were.

            "How can you possibly bring a charge like that?" asked the Ivanovs' lawyer.  "Is it your position that all twelve men are responsible for Mr. Carswell's death?"

            "Until we know otherwise," replied Abbie serenely, "Yes, it is."

            "However," McCoy put in, "If and when we learn which one or ones are responsible for this. . . " and he tossed several photos of Mr. Carswell's body on to the conference table, "We will drop the charges against the others, with the exception of the two who already are charged with breaking and entering."

            "But. . .   But how do you propose to ascertain. . . "

            "We don't," Abbie said.  "That's your problem.  You can get back to us on that.  Meanwhile, we have stated the charges.  And now, if you will excuse me, it's rather warm in here."

            With that, she and Jack snapped shut their briefcases and left the room, leaving behind them a general uproar.  Lennie and Ed hastily followed them.

            In the corridor, Abbie leaned against a wall and closed her eyes.  "Whew!" she said.

            Lennie found a water cooler.

            Ed turned to McCoy.  "So, how's this all gonna play out?"

            "I have no idea," he replied.  "The ball is in their court.  All I can tell you is that our positions are firm."

            "You'd really let all those others go if you find the two or three or whatever who did in Carswell?" Lennie asked.  "Even the ones picked up heading for Mrs. Schoenberg's place in Washington Heights?"

            "We might think we know that they were planning to intimidate a police officer and obstruct an investigation, but I doubt we ever could prove it."

            "And the others we picked up doing all that crazy stuff to people?  If that wasn't reckless endangerment, I don't know what is."

            "To you or me, Lennie," Abbie explained, "Or most other reasonable people, but after what you saw the other day, you must know that we're an endangered species."

            "Yeah, well, I guess I can't deny that."

            "What about Mrs. Carswell?" asked Ed.  "She gonna wiggle out of it?"

            "I wish I knew," sighed McCoy.  "We offered to plead her on Murder Two with a very generous sentencing recommendation in consideration of her having provided information about Mr. Rapina, but she won't take the deal.  Wants to go to trial."

            "Will you win?"

            "Technically, it's a good case, but with a defendant that rich?  Who ever knows?"

            "Hell of a system you got going here, Counselor," observed Lennie.

            McCoy shrugged.  "Best one we've got."

            "Listen, guys," said Abbie, "You did some really good work on this.  And your friend Judith, Lennie – remember I told her that night we went to the exhibit opening that she might have helped a lot?  Well, tell her it turned out that she did."

            "Absolutely," agreed McCoy.

            Lennie didn't quite know what to say.  "Well, I, um. . .  Thanks.  I'll tell her."

            "Well, let's get out of here," suggested McCoy.  He indicated the conference from which loud voices were coming.  "I don't particularly want to be around when that little party breaks up."

            "For sure," said Abbie.  "I've seen enough of those thugs for one day."

            "Okay.  Call if you need us for anything more on this," Ed told her.

            On their way back uptown, Ed asked Lennie, "You gonna get your life back now, bro?  You and Judith?"

            "I intend to.  I know it's been only a few days, but. . . "

            "I know what you mean.  This one's been playing with my mind ever since that morning at the gallery.  Never could have quite pictured it coming to this, though."

            "Well, you called it that morning, Ed.  'A homicide waiting to happen.'  Isn't that what you said?"

            "But who knew it'd be our case?"

            "Yeah, who knew?  You know what still worries me, though?"

            "What?"

            "Do you suppose we got all the current 'victims?'  I mean, I hope to God that there isn't someone still strung up somewhere waiting for food and water."

            "Yeah," Ed agreed.  "I was thinking about that, too.  But don't you think that seeing how much trouble those leather-coats know they are in that they would have told about it?  It sure as hell isn't in their best interest to have another dead body turn up."

            "I hope you're right, but with a brain trust like that, how can anyone be sure what they'd do?"

            "Well, we can't think about it, Lennie.  We did all we could."

            Back at the 2-7, Van Buren apparently agreed because she told them to finish their reports and then take the rest of the day off.  Actually, Lennie had been planning to ask for it.  He wanted to put as much distance between himself and this case as possible – and, as Ed put it, get his life back.

            Back at Judith's, he sighed when he found Mrs. Schoenberg watching The Seeking Heart.  Another reminder. 

            "Oh, Leonard," she said, "I forgot to tell you thank you for letting me know that Warren will be coming home from Antarctica.  I was so happy when Judith told me."

            "You're welcome, Mrs. S.  I'm glad everything's going to turn out okay."

            "Now how in the world did you find that out?  I didn't know you were interested in the stories."

            "Well, I, um, don't have much time for that, but it turned out that my partner and I had to drop by the show's production company one day, and that's how I heard it."

            "My, what an interesting job you have!"

            He smiled.  "Sometimes."

            The woman's attention drifted back to the soap, and Lennie wondered where Judith was.  Their first order of business was going to be to return Mrs. Schoenberg to her home.  Not that the mom wasn't a nice enough lady, at least when she wasn't on his case, but it'd been a week since he had been alone with Judith.  He walked into her bedroom where she was just hanging up the phone.

            "Hey, you," she smiled, surprised to see him.  "What are you doing home in the middle of the day?  Everything's okay, isn't it?"

            "Better than okay.  We've closed this damned Carswell case."

            "Really?  Well, come here – tell me what's happened."

            He sprawled across the comforter on the bed with his head propped on his hand and told her what had happened at the DA's that morning.

            "So, no matter what, you mean that some of those thugs are still going to be running around?  Is that safe?"

            "Probably not.  I'm sure they'll get themselves into some kind of trouble, but since Rapina was the brains behind the abduction crap, at least they probably won't be doing any more of that.  I don't think we have to worry about them.  And something else you might like to hear. . . "

            And he told her what Abbie and McCoy had said about her.

            "Really?" she asked, her eyes widening.  "They said that?  It never seemed that Abbie had a problem with me, but Jack McCoy said that, too?"

            "He agreed completely.  You're not going to have to be worried about running into him anymore.  You see, it's like I've been telling you – people come around."

            "I'm just glad that I'm not making your life so difficult any longer."

            "You never, ever did that.  Not that you're not a lot of trouble, of course, but I love every minute of it."

            She began to blush deeply as she always did when he teased her, and he loved seeing it.

"So, who were you talking to when I came in?"

            "Sadie.  Catching up on all the gossip from the gallery."

            "Well, I hope she told you that they've fired Kirkpatrick and Tony and taken that damned exhibit down."

            "Um, no, actually.  But Tony hasn't been seen since the day you arrested him."

            "That's because he spent a few nights on Rikers.  If he has any sense, he won't be back.  Kirkpatrick?"

            "Still there as if nothing happened.  I doubt the gallery owners know what he did.  He told everyone that his arrest that day was a 'misunderstanding.'"

            "You know, for two cents I'd go to the owners myself."

            "Leave it alone, Lennie.  Maybe he's learned his lesson."

            "And 'Urban Experience?'"

            "Well, you're not going to like this.  I wish I could tell you that it's history, but Sadie says it's still drawing and selling."

            "Oh, for God's sake!"  Wasn't this case ever going to go away?

            Judith shrugged.  "I don't know what anyone can do about it.  At least now there won't be any Rapina to call.  I guess it's just going to have to run its course."

            Lennie wondered if he could get her to leave that place and find another job.  He'd talk to her about that later.

            "So, what do you think?  It's not that I'm, um, trying to get rid of her or anything, but do you suppose your mother might like to go back to her place?  I mean, since I have the afternoon off and all, we could drive her up there."

            Judith smiled.  "Yes, you are trying to get rid of her.  And, yes, she is very much ready to go.  She's never been comfortable for long in unfamiliar surroundings.  So, that sounds like a plan to me.  Then what?"

            He grinned at her.  "Then you and I are coming back here – alone."

The End