Stuart Woods - New York Dead

They returned to Eggers’s office and sat down.

“Frank had a word with your banker yesterday – we keep our trust account at your branch, so we have a little pull there. You’re off the hook for the principal reduction they were demanding. You’ll still have to make the interest payment, though.”

“Thank you, Bill, that’s good news.”

Eggers handed him an envelope. “And here’s ten grand against your retainer.”

“You’re full of good news,” Stone said. “Thanks again.”

“Not at all.” Eggers looked at his watch. “There’s somebody I want you to meet, Stone. He’s due in here in ten minutes.”

“A client?”

“Son of a client. The father is Robert Keene, of Keene, Bailey amp; Miller advertising.”

“I don’t know them.”

“The three partners left Young amp; Rubicam fifteen years ago and set up on their own. Now they’re a medium-sized agency well known for good creative work. Warren Weld represents the agency, and I represent Bob personally. Bob Keene is as nice a guy as you’d want to meet.”

“And the boy?”

“That’s why I want you to meet him. I want your opinion. Bobby Junior is a senior at Brown, and there’s a daterape accusation against him by a girl student. She turned him in to the administration, and, when she wasn’t happy with the level of support she got, she added his name to a list of alleged date rapists on the ladies’ room wall in her dormitory. Bobby denies everything, and he seems credible. No criminal charges have been filed, yet, but if they are, and, if we feel he’s innocent, I want to go on the offensive – sue the girl for defamation, sue the university for allowing his name to remain painted on a bathroom wall, really blast them. And we’ll call in a top gun to defend him.

“On the other hand, if he’s really guilty, I’ll insist that he abjectly apologize to the girl and the administration, and try to avoid criminal proceedings and keep him in school. That would certainly be cheaper for his father, but Bob Senior is willing to do what it takes to defend the boy if he’s innocent.”

“What does the father think about the boy’s guilt or innocence?”

“Oddly, he doesn’t seem to have an opinion. I think that, what with the work it’s taken to build his business, he hasn’t spent a hell of a lot of time with the boy, and they’ve grown apart. We can’t solve that problem for them, but I hope we can give Bob Senior good advice on how to proceed.”

“I’ll be glad to meet the boy.”

“As a cop, you must have gained some insight over the years as to whether an accused man is guilty or not – I don’t mean reading the evidence, I mean reading the man.”

“I think I have. It doesn’t always work, of course. I’ve been fooled before; so has every cop.”

“I want you to question the boy, pull out all the stops, see if you can shake his story.”

“You want him cross-examined, as if I were representing the girl?”

“I want him questioned, as if he were a suspect.”

The phone on Eggers’s desk rang. “Yes? Send him in.” He hung up and turned to Stone. “Ready?”

“You be the good cop,” Stone said.

“Right.”

Bobby Keene was a large young man, whose neck was wider than the top of his head. Stone thought there had been a handsome face in that head once, before the boy had discovered weight training.

“Bobby, how are you?” Eggers said, sticking out a hand.

“I’m very well, Mr. Eggers,” Bobby said earnestly.

“Bobby, I want you to meet another lawyer who’s helping us out with your case. This is Stone Barrington; Stone’s had a lot of experience in this sort of thing, and I think he’ll be able to help us a lot.”

“Gosh, I hope so.” Bobby stuck out a ham-sized hand. “How do you do, Mr. Barrington?”

Stone kept a poker face, shook the hand limply, but did not return the greeting. “Sit down,” he said, and it was an order.

Bobby sat, looking worried.

“Tell me about it,” Stone said, sounding bored.

“Sir?”

Stone turned to Eggers. “Jesus Christ, Bill, is the kid stupid, or what?”

“Bobby,” Eggers said gently, “tell Mr. Barrington what happened on the evening you went out with” – he glanced at a pad on his desk – “Janie Byron.”

“Oh, of course, sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t know what Mr. Barrington meant.”

“Just tell me,” Stone said.

“Well, there isn’t much to tell. We went to a movie-”

“What kind of a movie?”

“An old one; a John Ford western.”

“Downtown, shopping mall, drive-in?”

“Oh, a drive-in, right outside town.”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, we got some popcorn, we ate it, we watched the movie, we made out a little.”

“Define ‘made out.’ Exactly.”

Bobby retained his earnest tone. “We kissed a few times.”

“Did you touch her breasts?”

“Well, yeah, she seemed to want that.”

“Oh, she said to you, ‘Bobby, please, please grab my tits,’ is that how it happened?”

“Well, not exactly.”

“Just how did she show you that she wanted you to touch her breasts?”

“Well, when I did, she didn’t object much.”

“But she did object.”

“Well, she played hard to get a little, I guess.”

“Then what happened?”

“We started to get heated up a little, and I-”

“Go on, boy, be graphic. We’re all grown up here.”

“Then she said she wanted to leave, she got all huffy and all, and so I took her back to her dorm.”

“Immediately?”

“As soon as I was sure she meant it.”

“How long did that take?”

“A few minutes, I guess.”

“How many minutes? Exactly.”

“Five, I guess.”

“Did you lie down on the seat of the car?”

“For a minute or two.”

“Did you get your hand in her pants?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you get your finger inside her?”

“Yes, sir, for a minute.”

“Did you get her pants off?”

“No, sir. I didn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Sir?”

“Well, it sounds to me like you were doing real well, there, Bobby; you got at her tits, you got your finger in her crotch, why stop?”

“I guess she didn’t want to.”

“If she didn’t want to, how’d you get your hand in her crotch?”

“Well, I-”

Stone leaned across to Eggers’s desk and picked up a legal pad. “It says here you forced her to have sex with you.”

“That’s a lie!”

“It says here, you ripped off her underwear, pinned her down with your weight, and fucked her against her will.”

“It wasn’t against her will!”

“So you fucked her, didn’t you?”

“No, I… you’re getting me confused.”

“It says here that when she got back to her dorm, her roommate took a cotton swab and collected a semen sample from her pubic hair and saved it on a glass slide. Her roommate is a biology major. That’s your misfortune.”

Bobby’s eyes widened, and his jaw worked, but nothing came out.

“Do you know what a DNA matching is, Bobby?”

“I… well, I read something in the paper about it.”

“Give me that lab report,” Stone said to Eggers.

Eggers promptly found a sheet of paper on his desk and handed it across to Stone.

Stone looked at the paper, an interoffice memo, and shook his head.

“Listen, I can give you the names of three guys who’ve screwed Janie Byron,” Bobby said. His face was red. “I-”

“I see,” Stone said. “So the guys at the frat house are going to back you, huh? They’re stand-up guys, so they’re all going to go into court and perjure themselves for you and risk going to prison.”