Unnatural Acts (Stone Barrington 23)

“You’ve had only one glass,” Abney replied. “And half a martini at Sardi’s.”

“Then why am I so…” She couldn’t seem to get the words out.

Abney got up, took her by her left wrist, and led her toward the sofa. “Let’s get comfortable,” he said, then he pushed her arm behind her, pulled her to him, and planted a big kiss on her lips, grinding his crotch into hers.

Viv could stand up, but she didn’t seem able to resist him. Then she felt a hand under her dress, and, in one strong motion, Abney ripped off her panties. She tried to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Then she was on her back on the sofa. He kept the grip on her left wrist, over the watch, and undid his trousers with the other hand. Viv’s right hand was pinned under her own body, and she couldn’t get it out. She wanted to scream.

In the car, Rosie got on the radio. “Lieutenant Bacchetti?”

“I’m here, Rosie. What’s happening?”

“They’ve been in there a long time. Have you got a male detective nearby? I want to go in, but I ought to be with a date, in case Abney sees me. I don’t want to blow this.”

“I’m two blocks away, in my car, and I’m on the way.”

“I read you,” she said.

Viv’s ankles were over Abney’s shoulders, now, and he was fumbling to get inside her. She made a monumental effort to move and managed to get one foot against his shoulder and push.

“Hold still!” Abney snarled. “Don’t worry, you’re going to enjoy it.” His face was flushed, and he was breathing hard.

Viv started to struggle again, and he put his free arm across her throat and pressed hard. She couldn’t breathe, and she thought she felt something in her throat snap. Then she passed out.

Abney felt her go limp. “Shit!” he said aloud. He didn’t want a rag doll; he liked the resistance. Then he froze. She wasn’t moving, didn’t seem to be breathing, either. He reached for her throat to get a pulse and found nothing. Swearing, he got up and pulled up his trousers, then went to the rear door of the room and looked down the stairs. It was clear.

He went back to the table, slung her handbag over his arm, then went to the sofa, pulled her up into a fireman’s carry, and left through the back door, down the stairs to the alley.

Dino pulled up, and Rosie was out of the car, waiting for him.

“Let’s go,” Dino said.

“Don’t rush,” she said. “We don’t want to call attention to ourselves.”

They walked into the restaurant, and the headwaiter approached. “I’m afraid it’s going to be another forty-five minutes before I’ll have a table.”

“We’ll just have a drink at the bar,” Dino said. They took two stools, and Dino looked around. “I don’t see her,” he said. “Do you see Abney?”

“No,” she said. “They’re not here.”

Dino called the bartender over. “I was supposed to meet Ed Abney here. Have you seen him?”

“Sure, he’s in the upstairs dining room,” the bartender replied, nodding toward the stairway. “But he doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s up there.” He winked for emphasis. “Can I get you a drink? He won’t be much longer, if he’s true to form.”

Dino grabbed Rosie’s hand. “Come on!” he said, and ran for the stairs.

46

Dino ran down the upstairs hallway and tried the door: locked. He knocked. “Mr. Abney?”

“God knows what’s going on in there,” Rosie said from behind him.

Dino knocked again. “Mr. Abney, it’s the police. Open the door.” No response. Dino pulled his weapon, took a step back, and kicked the door open, splintering the jamb. Rosie followed him in. There were dishes and glasses on the table, but the room was empty.

Rosie opened one of the two other doors in the room. “Powder room,” she said.

Dino opened the other door and found the back stairs. “Let’s go!” He ran down the stairs, pushed open the fire door, and stepped outside. He found himself in an alley and it was raining. There was a dumpster and half a dozen trash cans scattered about.

“He’s got a car,” Rosie said. “The shortest way is back through the restaurant.” She tried the door, but it had locked behind them. “Shit!” she yelled. “We’ll have to go around!”