The Ties That Bind (18 page)

"First, let me say that we know you were in Phyla
Herbert's room on the night in question."

He seemed to have expected the allegation, making a gesture
of resignation.

"The Pepsi can, right. I'm not exactly stupid."
He turned to Gail. "I'd do the same. Problem is, I'm not the guilty
party."

"We haven't made any accusations, Mr. Barker,"
Fiona said.

"You found them on the wooden arm of one of the
chairs. I went over it in my mind for days. Am I right?"

"I believe so."

"Surely, it's obvious," Barker said brightly.
"I made no attempt to remove my prints. She let me into the room. I came
in. Sat down. We talked for about fifteen minutes. Then I left. The fact is, I
had no reason to remove any prints, because I had no reason to cover up
anything."

"Then why did you lie to us?"

"As I told you before, I'm not crazy. I had no desire
to be implicated in this. Let's face it. Being implicated in something so awful
is not exactly a career builder. I read the story in the paper and I wanted to
distance myself. What I was hoping was that my fingerprints would have been
rendered useless by the person who had obviously come after me."

"Nonsense, Barker," Gail said, unable to remain
silent. "It was an oversight. You did a good job elsewhere. No one came in
after you."

Fiona turned and gave Gail an unmistakable look of rebuke.
This is mine now, was what she hoped her expression conveyed.

"Sorry," Gail shrugged.

"I was there no more than approximately fifteen
minutes," Barker said. "I saw that by the clock behind the hotel desk
when I passed it on the way out. It was eleven-fifteen. It was not quite eleven
when I entered her suite."

"Did she invite you in?" Fiona asked.

"Not exactly. I pressed her. I admit it."

"For what reason?"

Barker sucked in a deep breath.

"I wanted to sleep with her."

"Considering all the history you provided us with, one
would think that would be a monumental challenge."

"It was. But I could tell from the moment I was in the
room that she was not interested in anything more than a polite brushoff. She
made it clear she was not interested."

"You didn't press her?"

"Actually, she was standing in the middle of the room
and I attempted to embrace her."

"And what did she do?"

"She pushed me into the chair."

"And you stayed there?"

"Yes. Then she explained that she was not the least
bit interested in me, never had been, never would be."

"Did she say why?"

"No. Not directly."

"What does that mean?"

"I had the impression that she had another
boyfriend."

"Did she say that?"

"Purely a feeling on my part. Like she had pledged
fealty to someone."

"Someone?"

"Like a married man?"

Fiona sensed that Gail was studying her. When she turned
she saw a very troubled expression on her face, as if she disapproved of the
way Fiona was conducting the interrogation.

"Maybe. Somebody secret. Just a feeling, you
understand. It was the way she explained it, that she had no interest in me in
that way. Not that she ever had."

"People in my business would characterize that as a
red herring," Fiona said, shooting a glance at Gail, knowing she was
saying what Gail was thinking. "Shifting the emphasis to a dead end."

"I said it was just a feeling I had," Barker
said.

Odd, Fiona thought, how his intuition fit in with her own
theory.

"You make her sound very solicitous of your
feelings," Fiona said.

"She was. We were childhood friends. Maybe she didn't
want me to go home mad. As it turns out, going to her room has proved to be a
major disaster for me." He held up his hand. "Of course, I'm a
suspect, especially since I lied to you."

"You are and you did," Gail said. Again she had
crossed the line. This time Fiona shot her a sharp look of rebuke. Then, from
her pocketbook, Fiona took out the faxed sheets they had looked at earlier. She
started to outline what the sheets contained. Barker stopped her.

"I admit it. I've not been a good boy. I told you what
happened to me when I was sixteen," he said. "Believe me, that was
the truth. As for my conduct later, I admit everything. I'm too aggressive
sexually and I'm working on a more disciplined approach. In today's world I'm
vulnerable. I know it. By today's standards, I'm a female harasser..."

"I have a question for you, Barker," Fiona
interrupted. "Do you know anything about B and D or S and M?"

She felt Gail stir beside her. Peripherally, she could see
that Gail was confused by the question.

"You mean whips and chains. Sadism and Masochism. B
and D means what?"

"Bondage and Discipline."

"You mean tying up, spanking ... things like
that?"

"Or variations thereof."

Barker looked puzzled. He shrugged.

"I may be a little aggressive, but when you get to
stuff like inflicting pain and enjoying it, I'm way out of it ... way way out
of that."

"May I see you privately for a moment, Fiona?"
Gail asked suddenly. Fiona exchanged glances with her and saw by her expression
that she was not pleased with the interrogation.

Outside in the deserted squad room, Gail said:

"He's having a joy ride. He's charming you with his
openness and I think you're falling for it. I'm sorry, Fiona, but I think
you're being much too gentle on him. You'll never break him this way."

"Maybe there's nothing to break," Fiona said.

"Well, I don't agree. You're even putting an alibi in
his mouth. This business about a secret married lover."

"I didn't put it there, Gail," Fiona said.

"This is the man, Fiona. Why can't you see it?"

Fiona mulled over an idea, then gave herself permission to proceed.

"Barker could be our man. I won't argue that point at
this time. But I'm still convinced this was consensual," she said.
"Requiring no aggression ... at least when the episode was begun."

"I'll never buy that. Trussed up like that,
blindfolded, gagged, her body written on, then abused. What woman would consent
to that?"

"It's theater, Gail. It wasn't meant to go beyond
that," Fiona said, watching Gail's expression of disbelief.

"With respect, Fiona, that's ridiculous," Gail
said. "You're saying that the girl was a willing participant in her own
humiliation."

"The humiliation part, yes. Not the business of the
pain," Fiona replied, pausing. "Not what he did back there."

"That's sick," Gail said with disgust. "She
was coerced, forced. Barker might have had a weapon, threatened her."

"I doubt that."

"Doubt that Barker did it?"

"Maybe that, too."

Gail shook her head vigorously.

"Why are you willing to whitewash him without first
trying to break him? That's what I don't understand. An attempted rape at sixteen,
a record of aggressive action against women. He's got the perfect MO for this,
Fiona."

"But no real S and M or B and D background,"
Fiona said. "You saw the props."

"Props?"

"The ropes, the leather blindfold, the gags, the
paddling evidence. Props."

"You seemed to know a great deal about that,"
Gail said. Fiona ignored the implication.

"The woman was theatrically posed for a B and D
session. The knots were carefully tied, the blindfold carefully administered.
Even the gag was put on with skill. None of this could be done without her
absolute trust and consent."

"I don't believe this."

Fiona wasn't sure whether this was a personal manifestation
of repugnance or an official denial. She had already determined that Gail
Prentiss was morally rigid in her sexual standards. If she had provided any
sexual favors, they had been, Fiona was certain, proferred reluctantly. There
was a sense of repression about her, Fiona decided, responding to her own
instincts based on a Catholic upbringing.

Gail's attitude about sex reminded her of her mother, whose
inhibitions in that regard sent her father off to a string of mistresses to
whose existence she cast a blind eye.

"People do it because it makes them feel good,
Gail," Fiona explained.

"And the dildo that tore apart her anus. Did that make
her feel good?"

"The work of a negative dominant. He got carried away.
He harmed her. In this context, that is perversity. The perpetrator of that is
guilty and, considering what the pathologist has found about the subject's
cause of death, I doubt if we could get the kind of sentence that Herbert
wants."

"Are you so sure Barker isn't into this D and B
obscenity?" Gail asked, avoiding any follow-up reference to Herbert.

"B and D," Fiona corrected, quickly adding,
"I can tell. He may not be ignorant of the practice but I suggest he's not
very conversant with the rituals."

Gail looked deeply into Fiona's eyes as if searching for
the hidden message.

"You should have let me interrogate him," she
said.

"Think I've blown it, Gail?"

"I'm not sure."

"I don't want to see a miscarriage of justice."

The remark, Fiona knew, was open to different
interpretations.

They studied each other through a long silence.

"I think you owe it to me to let me try," Gail
said.

"Are you appealing to my sense of fairness?"
Fiona countered, tamping down her irritation.

"Yes."

Fiona mulled the point. She concluded that, in the light of
their diametrically opposing views as to Barker's guilt or innocence, she had
better accede to Gail's demand. Gail, Fiona had learned, was a fiercely
tenacious hunter who needed a shot at her prey.

"Alright, hotshot, do your thing," Fiona said
with obvious reluctance, but without visible rancor. After all, she reasoned,
Gail was unaware that she wasn't playing with a full deck.

"I will," Gail said through tight, unsmiling
lips.

The conversation seemed ended and Fiona turned to go back
into the room. She was recalled by Gail's voice.

"How do you know so much about this, Fiona?"

"This?"

"The bondage stuff."

It was to be expected, of course. It was one of those
issues she had wrestled with last night. To tell or not to tell. Not yet, she
decided, hopeful that she might find a solution long before such a confession
was required, if ever.

"Lots of research," Fiona replied, which was
partly true. Indeed, the subject was not as esoteric as it seemed. The sex
squad regularly provided information on various sexual practices, but, as Fiona
knew from personal experience, it was disbursed as a catalogue from a freak
show, with the psychological factors glossed over and related only to the
criminal aspects of the practices.

"I thought you forgot me," Phelps Barker said
when the women had returned. From his sudden change of expression Fiona could
tell he had sensed the changed dynamics in the room. Although they took the
same chairs upon their return, Gail moved hers inches closer to Barker.

"I'm afraid you're still on our mind, Barker,"
Fiona said.

"Am I still a hot suspect?"

His attempt at recapturing his old wisecracking arrogance
fell short.

"Yes," Gail said ominously. There was no
mistaking her attitude. She paused for a moment, extracted a small notebook
from her pocketbook and opened it. "I'd like to go back to your assertion
about the young woman who accused you of rape when you were a teenager."

"I've explained that."

"Not to my satisfaction," Gail insisted. His
forehead crinkled as he turned toward Fiona, who nodded slightly in what was
meant to be a gesture of reassurance. Gail's questions were a gauntlet he had
to go through. She hoped he was up to it.

"Why would you have needed a go-between to negotiate a
settlement if you were innocent?"

"I've already explained that," Barker said
calmly. "It was a conspiracy to get money from my father."

"And you did not rape her?"

"Absolutely not. She consented to the
intercourse."

"She claimed you held her down, spraining her wrist,
that you stuffed her panties in her mouth to stop her from screaming and that
you threatened her with a knife, which you held to her neck after cutting her
on the arm to show her you meant business."

The blood drained from his face and his lips began to
tremble. Again, Gail had been privy to information that she had withheld from
Fiona. Only this time Fiona did not accept it silently.

"Where did that come from?"

"Mr. Herbert."

"Why didn't you tell me this, Gail?"

"There is more to this than meets the eye,
Fiona," Gail said firmly. "May I proceed?"

"We'll discuss this later," Fiona said.
Experience had taught her that one must never display police dirty laundry in
front of a suspect. On a level playing field, Fiona would have promptly taken
her aside, chewed her out, threatened charges and put in for a partner change.

"Kiss and make up girls," Barker said, in another
abortive effort to get his old élan back. His ashen face belied the attempt.
Gail turned to him again.

"Are my facts wrong, Barker?"

"Her facts were wrong," Barker shot back.
"She concocted the story. It was all a lie. She consented eagerly. I told
you the truth." His voice became shrill, his entire face beet red.

"Truth? You don't know the meaning of that word. I
talked to the woman herself."

"Probably on welfare with nine kids."

"She's an accountant, Barker," Gail said
triumphantly.

"She signed her name to an agreement..."

"Cash for silence," Gail hissed.

"I'll sue her ass." His nostrils flared and
flecks of saliva rolled down his chin.

"There was also another part of that original
agreement," Gail said. Fiona turned quickly. Gail raised her hand as if to
say "Don't interrupt. I know what I'm doing."