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Reading, he said, "Natalia Garelli, twenty-one, attends the University of Naples. She hosted a party in her flat for fellow students and friends. The victim, Frieda S., arrived at ten p.m. Alone. She remembered drinking and talking with some people--mostly Natalia or her boyfriend--but was a bit shy. She too is a student, just arrived from Holland. She vaguely recalls around eleven or midnight the defendant approaching her and talking. They both had glasses of wine at the table where they were sitting--this is downstairs--and Garry kept refilling her glass. Then they embraced and...limonarono...I do not know."
"Made out?" Sachs suggested.
"Si. Made out." He read more. "It was crowded so they went to the roof. Then Frieda has no memory until four in the morning, waking on the roof of the adjacent building and realizing she'd been assaulted. She was still quite drugged but managed to get to the wall separating the two rooftops. She climbed over, fell and was calling for help. Natalia, the hostess, heard her cries and got her downstairs into the apartment. Natalia's boyfriend, Dev, called the police.
"Investigators checked the door to the roof of the adjoining building but it was locked and did not appear to have been opened recently. Natalia told police that she suspected Serbian roommates living downstairs in that building--they'd been crude and drank a lot--but the police verified they were out of town. And dismissed anyone else in that building as suspects.
"A few witnesses on the roof--at the table for smoking, the smoking station--saw Garry and Frieda together briefly, walking to an alcove on the roof, where there was a bench, but that is out of sight of the smoking station. Between about one a.m. and two, only they were upstairs. At two a.m. Garry walked down the stairs to the apartment proper and left. Several witnesses reported that he seemed distressed. No one noticed that Frieda was missing. People assumed she'd left earlier. The next day there was an anonymous call--a woman, calling from a pay phone at a tabaccaio near Naples University. After she heard about the attack, she wanted to call the police and report that she believed she'd seen Garry mixing something into Frieda's drink."
"And no idea of her identity at all?" Rhyme asked.
"No." Ercole continued, "The call allowed the inspector to get a warrant to search his flat. That led to the discovery of traces of the date-rape drug on the jacket he'd worn the night of the party and the other articles of clothing."
Sachs asked, "Garry's story?"
"He admits that he and Frieda were drinking wine downstairs. And, again, making out. They went upstairs for more privacy. There were people at the smoking station, so they went around the corner to a deserted area and sat down and did more making out. But she grew tired and bored and less interested. About one thirty, he was tired too and he went downstairs and left the party. She was on the bench on the roof, drowsing, when he did."
"Tired too," Sachs suggested, "because he took a sip of her wine, which was spiked. His DNA was on her glass."
"Suggesting he didn't know about the roofie!" Ercole said, enthusiastic for just a moment, lost in the case. Then he went back to being guilty and nervous.
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Rhyme said, "One problem with the government's case: The DNA found in Frieda's vagina. It wasn't Garry's." He looked at Ercole uncertainly. He wondered if the graphic aspects of the crime would trouble a young officer who'd never worked an assault before, much less a rape.
The Italian officer glanced at Rhyme and caught his concern. "Capitano Rhyme, last month I ran an undercover operation to arrest men passing off inferior bull semen as that from prize animals. I surreptitiously videoed the collection process. I am someone who has made bull porn, so such matters are not bothering to me, if that's your question."
Rhyme nodded in amused concession. He observed that one line in the report was crossed out--bold strokes and a written note beside it. "What's that?"
"The words translate: 'Inappropriate and irrelevant, reprimand the interviewer.'"
"What's crossed out?" Sachs asked.
It took a moment to discern the words beneath the thick marker. "It is a note from one of the Flying Squad officers interviewing party attendees. The officer wrote that the victim was considered by some at the party to be quite the flirt."
"Ah. That offended the inspector," Sachs said. "Or Spiro. As it should have."
Blaming women for their own sexual assault was unforgivable...and a lapse that seemed to transcend national barriers.
Sachs said, "So what's the scenario, if he's innocent?"
Rhyme said, "Some man, Mr. X, has his eye on Frieda. He gets close and spikes her drink but it's crowded and dark, so the witness thinks it's Garry. Before X can move in and get Frieda to a bedroom or a deserted part of the flat, she and Garry go upstairs. X follows and watches them. Frieda starts to go under and Garry gets bored and leaves. When the roof is deserted, Mr. X carries Frieda to the roof of the building next door and rapes her."
Ercole asked, "Ah, but the drug residue on Garry's jacket in his apartment? How is that explained?"
Rhyme responded, "One way: being close to the man who did drug her. But remember, read the chart, Ercole, there was drug residue on other clothing too."
"Yes, what are the implications of that?"
"We don't know yet. It could be that Garry is guilty and frequently carries around date-rape drugs. Or that he is innocent and someone broke in to implicate him, scattering drugs on other items of his clothing, not remembering or knowing what he wore to the party."
Rhyme stared at the translated document. "And something I don't like. 'No Other Evidence Found.' There is always evidence. Ercole, do you know the name 'Locard'?"
"I don't believe I do."
"A French criminalist. He lived a long time ago. He came up with a principle that is still valid. He felt that at every crime scene there is a transfer of evidence from the perpetrator to the victim or to the scene. And from that evidence it is possible, even if very difficult, to determine the perp's identity or location. He was speaking of trace evidence, of course."
Ercole, some sixth sense kicking in, it seemed, said quickly, "Allora, I am happy to have helped you. Now I must go. I will see if Beatrice has made some discoveries, as she probably has. Moving us closer to the Composer. Our important case." He looked to Sachs for help. None was forthcoming.
