Unnatural Acts (Stone Barrington 23)

Viv flashed her badge. “Can you let us in? We just want to be sure he’s all right.”

“Sure, give me a minute.” He picked up the phone and asked for somebody to spell him at the desk, then he led them to the elevator and pressed the PH button. “Actually, he doesn’t usually lock the elevator door when he’s home. It opens directly into his foyer.”

The elevator stopped, and the two women stepped off.

“You want me to wait?”

“No, that’s all right. We won’t be long.”

The elevator door closed behind them.

“Mr. Fisher?” Viv called. “NYPD. Anybody home?”

Nothing.

Viv led the way into the living room, which was lit by lamps at either end of the sofa. A man was sitting on the sofa, his head back and lolling to one side. His fly was open and his penis exposed.

Viv walked over to him and shook him by the shoulder. “Mr. Fisher? Wake up. We’re the police.” There was no response. Viv peeled back an eyelid and the pupil contracted. “Well, he’s not dead.” She pinched his cheek, hard. Still no response.

“I think we need an ambulance,” Rosie said. “He could have OD’d. Look.” She pointed at a pile of white powder on a piece of brown paper on the coffee table. “There’s at least an ounce here.”

“It’s a neat little pile,” Viv said. “It hasn’t been cut into lines, and I don’t see a straw or rolled-up bill that he could snort with. I wonder how much he’s had to drink.” She tapped the brandy snifter on the table. “Most of at least one drink.”

Rosie walked across the room to a bar and lifted a bottle of Remy Martin cognac. “Looks like a fresh bottle. One drink missing, maybe.”

“I’ll call it in,” Viv said, reaching for her phone. “We don’t want him to die on us.”

Rosie came back to the sofa, pulled the man’s pants up until the penis fell back inside, then zipped it up. “We don’t want to embarrass the EMTs, do we?” She looked toward the end of the sofa, then walked over and picked up a pair of torn panties. “Looka here.”

Viv ended her call. “They’re on the way.” She looked carefully at the panties. “There’s a tear, but not the sort of tear that would get made when somebody ripped them off. You know, this situation is off. I’m going to get somebody up here to take prints.” She dialed another number.

32

Dino was getting ready for bed when his phone rang. “Bacchetti.”

“Lieutenant, this is Viv DeCarlo.”

“What’s up, Viv?”

“I’ve got ahold of an alleged rape case, but everything’s a little off. Guy named Fisher, has a penthouse on Park Avenue. A young woman named Carson Cullers says he raped her, but there are no marks on her and no semen inside her. There’s other stuff that doesn’t add up, too.”

“What’s Fisher’s first name?”

“Herbert. Cullers says he’s a lawyer with a big firm.”

“Let me speak to Fisher.”

“I’m in his apartment, but he’s out like a light, and I can’t wake him up.

I think there might be something in the drink he was drinking. I’ve called an ambulance.”

“Have them take him to Lenox Hill, and send your partner with him. I’m coming over to the apartment, and we’ll look at the scene together. Fifteen minutes.”

“Right.” She gave him the address.

Dino hung up and called Stone.

“Hello?”