“There might have been a few more. One-off’s during dungeon scenes. I wouldn’t even be able to tell you their real names. A lot of that was private and anonymous.”
She nodded and took the sheet back. “I’m prepared to turn this over to the police as evidence that I was your, shall we say, facilitator. That you turned to me for help finding partners. That I would have known that you were seeing Lisa. In fact, this list might be helpful, if we can get a list of dates Lisa claims you two were together and compare them with your known dates you were with submissives.”
I rubbed my temple, grimacing at the fact that things had come to this. “I hate the fact that my sex life will be evidence and that any jury and judge, and any interested parties, can look and see how active I was.”
“Yes, it sucks,” she said and looked at me squarely. “And you had better brace yourself. If the police think they have enough evidence, they could arrest you or at least, make you suffer a lot of questioning. These so-called emails from you to Lisa have me worried. They should have written them off by now, with their forensic team. I don't know why they haven't. Hopefully, we'll find out more today.”
I sat in mute silence for a moment. “Do you think they could arrest me? None of what she says is true.”
“They don’t know that. All they know is that she’s making these statements and giving dates, times, and making allegations. Plus, they have the letters… The husband is always the first suspect in any murder or attempted murder. Always.”
“But it’s not true,” I said, frustration overwhelming me. “Can’t they see that she’s certifiable? She’s nuts at best, a sociopath at worst. None of it happened and she’s fabricating this story to cover her ass or get me in trouble as some kind of revenge.”
“I know that,” Lara said. “The police might suspect that, but if they can’t rule you out somehow, then they’ll have to act. It depends on the DA and how she wishes to proceed.”
The DA. I hadn’t thought about her. “What kind of DA is she?”
Lara shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “She’s new. She’s hoping to be a hotshot and she wants to make a name for herself, according to a few of my friends inside the DA’s office. I have no idea whether she’s for us or against us, in terms of her attitude towards BDSM. That’ll count for a lot. If she’s a religious type, she might be out to prove something to her constituents.”
“Great,” I said. “I already had to deal with the editor, who has a reporter with her sights set on hurting the kinky crowd. Will I have to deal with a DA out to prove herself?”
“That’s the way the system works,” Lara said. “But don’t worry too much. There is no real evidence. There isn’t. I know this is all a lie she’s concocted. Sooner or later, the police will figure it out as well. The most important thing is to be as open and transparent as possible with them. Cooperate. When they realize she’s suffering from some kind of erotomania delusion about you, they’ll back off and focus back on her alone.”
I sighed and rubbed my chin, the grizzle in serious need of a trim. I’d let myself go a bit lately, what with the late nights with Sophie and the general sleeplessness.
“What are they going to ask me today?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Everything they’ve alre
ady asked you when you were in the hospital. They’ll be looking for consistency. If you tell a slightly different story each time or if your story is consistent. If you change your statement in any way. That’s why it’s important to be absolutely truthful and fully disclose everything.”
“How can I prove I didn’t fuck her in the damn broom closet at Carnegie Hall?”
“Who were you with?” Lara asked.
“One time, I was with one of the donors to the foundation. We’d gone out for dinner and then to hear a concert. I can give you his name. Steve Benson. He’s from California and was in for the week so we got together. I’ve been there a few times in the past five years. I’ll have to think about it.”
She nodded. “You make sure you write down every time you were at Carnegie and who you were with. We should be able to refute her claim.”
Finally, it was time to go, so we stood and I buttoned my jacket.
“I’m not feeling all that confident about this,” I said.
“Don’t worry too much,” Lara replied, coming around her desk, squeezing my shoulder to give me courage. “We have the truth on our side. They must have a psych consult, and they must see she’s nuts. Until then, we should be careful, that’s all.”
We drove to the precinct house and my driver dropped us off in front. We walked up the stairs to the main desk. They knew Lara there and the desk clerk smiled at her and took her name, then motioned to the waiting area while we waited for the detectives to come for us.
I waited for Lara to sit before I did and then I tried to calm myself, even though I knew I had nothing to hide. What I feared was that the detectives would be so prejudiced against BDSM practitioners that they’d see guilt where there was none. They might be more sympathetic to the so-called victim of a sadist than looking for the truth.
I hoped I was imagining things, and that my sense of how it could go was wrong.
Finally, a couple of minutes later, Detective McDonald came around the corner and nodded at the two of us.
“Come right this way,” he said to Lara and then tilted his head towards me.
He was joined by Detective St. James as he led us down a couple of hallways to an interview room in the interior of the building. It was small, with no windows. There was a lone table in the room with two chairs on one side and two on the other. Lara and I went behind the table and took our seats. McDonald and St. James sat down across from us.
“First of all, thank you for agreeing to come down and speak with us further, Dr. Morgan,” he said and flipped open a file. “We want to ask you a few questions, clarify what happened the day your wife was attacked.”