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“Please,” she said, patting the sofa next to her. “Sit here.”
Herbie had already had a drink and half a bottle of wine, and the girl was looking very good. What the hell, he thought. “Give me a minute, will you? I have to go to the powder room.”
“Of course,” she said.
Herbie got up and left.
Carson opened her purse, took out a prescription bottle, and shook two small pills into her hand. She put them on the glass coffee table, took a razor blade from her purse, and chopped them into powder, then held Herbie’s brandy snifter at the edge of the table and raked the powder into his glass. She stirred it with a finger, watching it dissolve, then licked her finger and put the glass back on the table.
Herbie came back from the powder room, sat down beside her, and raised his glass. “Cheers,” he said.
Carson smiled. “Cheers, indeed!” She took a gulp of her martini and rested her hand on his thigh.
“So, tell me about Dink,” Herbie said, taking a sip of brandy.
“As far as I’m concerned, Dink is history,” Carson said. “I’m sick of his behavior. I’m here because he told me about you, and I thought you sounded interesting.” She
moved her hand up his thigh a bit.
“Well, that’s flattering,” Herbie replied, taking another sip. He rested his head on the back of the sofa cushion and felt her hand move up farther.
“What are you looking for there?” he asked, sipping more brandy.
She moved her hand up to his crotch. “This,” she said.
“Well, now that you’ve found it, what’s next?”
She unzipped his fly and took out his penis.
Herbie felt drowsy. He took another pull on the brandy and set the glass on the coffee table.
She teased him erect, then took him into her mouth.
31
Detective Third Grade Vivian DeCarlo walked into the emergency room at Lenox Hill Hospital and looked around for her partner, Rose Mahon, who was supposed to meet her there to interview a hit-and-run victim. No sign of Rosie.
“Hey, Viv,” a young female resident in green scrubs said to her.
“Hey, Liz,” Viv replied. “How’s it going?”
“Now that you mention it, I’ve just examined a rape victim, and you might want to talk to her. She’s behind the curtain, there, in exam one.”
“What’s her story?”
“She says some guy got her drunk and raped her. She wasn’t wearing any panties, but there was no bruising, either internal or external, and she didn’t seem all that drunk, either.”
“You think she’s lying?”
“I’ve seen a couple of dozen rape victims in here, and she doesn’t fit the mold. She’s not crying, not even looking upset, and, like I said, not a mark on her. Her first name is Carson.”
“Did you do a rape kit?”
“Yep. I found no semen in her vagina, but there was some on what pubic hair she has left after a major wax job. I’ll get you the kit.”
Viv walked over and pulled the curtain back a few inches. “Carson?”
The girl was stretched out on the exam table, and she lifted her head a bit. “Yes?”
