Fury (The Butch Karp and Marlene Ciampi Series Book 17)

by Robert K. Tanenbaum

  “What if Alexis…I mean Michalik, comes after me?” Ryder said. “You know he said he was going to hurt me.”

  “He contacted you?” Rachman asked.

  “Yes…no…I mean, this was after he did it. He said if I went to the police, he was going to find me and hurt me,” Ryder said.

  “Was that in the police report?” Rachman said. “I don’t remember the threat, although I suppose the nature of the crime implies that there is a threat of retaliation later.”

  Ryder cursed herself. She didn’t want to make Rachman suspicious. “I thought I told the first officers. Maybe I forgot to tell the detective. I still don’t remember everything clearly or who I told what…. I think there’s some lingering effect of the drugs.”

  “Sure, sure, completely understandable,” Rachman said. “We just are going to have to be patient. Maybe conduct, or reconduct, a few interviews to make sure there are no holes for a defense attorney to exploit.”

  Ryder had said she understood and hung up. On Friday night, when there was still no word from Rachman, she’d decided to go see Vanders and make sure he got his story straight. After he’d repeated it verbatim a half-dozen times without a glitch, she’d gone to bed with him after taking another roofie, which had made the experience bearable.

  In the morning, however, she woke up in a foul mood. She felt fat, bloated, and got out of bed to look at herself in the mirror. Not seeing the imperfections she had imagined, she smiled…until Vanders came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her while he pressed his groin against her backside.

  “Ted, what did I just tell you about taking liberties,” she said, looking at him in the mirror. She expected him to back off.

  However, Ted’s lust had emboldened him. He figured she owed him big and that it was time he had a little more say in their relationship. After all, he’d done everything she’d said, to the letter—well, except the part about screwing her again in the morning while she was still passed out. He’d had to reuse one of the rubbers, but it had been worth it. And it didn’t matter; he could expose her plans.

  “Maybe you should be a little more cooperative if you want me to keep being a good boy. Sometimes you aren’t very nice to me,” he said, pouting.

  Ryder, who’d tensed when he touched her, relaxed and let his hands continue to roam over her body. She reached behind and started to fondle him. He groaned…and then screamed when she pulled his balls as hard as she could. She’d whirled around with her scissors in her hand and placed them as if she intended to turn him into a eunuch.

  Vanders cried again when he felt the pinch of the blades as they cut into his skin. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it. You’re nice. Please, don’t,” he begged. He felt like passing out but was afraid of what she’d do if he did.

  “You little piece of shit,” she snarled. “You ever threaten me again and I’ll cut your fucking balls off and cram them down your throat.” She squeezed the scissors a bit more. “We clear?”

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes,” he yipped, nodding his head rapidly. “Please, let go.”

  “Well, okay then, Teddy,” she said, smiling sweetly as she eased up on the scissors. “Just remember, not only would I find a way to get to you and your little nuts if you went to the police, but do you think they’re not going to care that you lied to them just so you could get laid? They’ll put you in prison where you’ll get laid every night by some big, hairy hillbilly.”

  Ryder withdrew the scissors, which she waved in front of one of his weepy eyeballs. She had a sudden urge to plunge it in but figured that might be tough to explain.

  “There, there, Teddy,” she said, lifting his trembling chin with the point of the scissors. “Just be a good boy…no more threats…and I might even throw you a bone from time to time.”

  Five minutes later, she walked out of the apartment. Stopping to fix her makeup, she noticed a shadow move away from behind the door across the hall. Nosy neighbors, she thought. I’m going to have to be more careful and disguise my face when I visit Ted the Idiot.

  Just thinking about him and his threat as she walked out to her car pissed her off. Just another guy trying to fuck her over. Well, someday Ted Vanders and his balls might have a fatal meeting with a certain pair of scissors. She laughed at the thought of Ted’s face as she dangled his nut sack in front of his eyes. Now that would be funny.

  Ted wasn’t laughing, however, as he inspected his wounded nut sack with a mirror in the bathroom. Jeez, he thought, I better never tell her about the condom breaking or she really will cut them off.

  15

  ONE OF THE GREAT THINGS ABOUT JOGGING DOWN A NEW YORK sidewalk accompanied by a 150-pound dog, Marlene thought, is that the crowd scatters like a school of herring when a barracuda shows up. Some of the fish did the New York shuffle, which was to look straight ahead at nothing and everything while skirting dog and owner without breaking stride. Others darted to the side and stood there staring at the dog as if it were some strange creature from another planet.

  For his part, Gilgamesh cruised along indifferent to the people—except that his enormous brown eyes seemed to click on each for a moment, assess the danger to his owner, and then move on to the next. He was happy just letting his teacup-size nose take in all the wonderful, to a dog, smells and being on a walk with Marlene. Occasionally a brave soul would stretch out a hand to give him a scratch, which he accepted without reaction, although on a word from Marlene he would have removed the appendage about up to the elbow.

  Marlene’s route took her to an apartment building on the East Side, actually not far from Ariadne Stupenagel’s loft. She was on her way to the Michaliks’. She’d called that morning and told Helena that she wanted to drop by and talk to her and Alexis.

  “I want to take my dog for a run; then I’ll drop him off and be over,” Marlene said.

  “Oh, bring your puppy, too,” Helena replied. “I love dogs and had to leave my schnauzer at home when I came to the United States.”

  “Well, he’s considerably bigger than any puppy or schnauzer you’ve probably met.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Please, I insist. I would like to meet your dog.”

  Marlene agreed. She was proud of her dog and knew that Gilgamesh would enjoy the longer outing. She regretted forgetting to ask Helena if she owned a cat. As well trained as Gilgamesh was—he’d hold his ground if a bomb was going off next to him—there was one small flaw in his nature and it was that he loved cats. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  “Nice doggy,” said a voice behind her.

  Marlene and Gilgamesh turned, the latter emitting a deep, low rumble that was not quite a growl but a warning to stay back. Caught us both by surprise and that takes some doing, Marlene thought, as she sized up the stranger she saw.

  The man was obviously no threat. He was dressed sort of like a monk in a cowled brown robe that hung to mid-calf, revealing that he was wearing a worn pair of running shoes but no socks despite the cold and damp. It was hard to get a good look at his face because he kept most of it inside the hood and looked up at her sideways. But she saw he had the sunken cheeks and protruding eyes of someone who didn’t eat well or regularly. His legs and arms, what she could see of them, were filthy, and the fingernails on the hand he stretched out to her were long, yellow, and dirt-caked. He smiled, revealing that most of his teeth were also gone. “Can you spare a buck?” he asked.

  Marlene reached for her fanny pack. She was worth millions—exactly how much she didn’t know because she let others handle the details of her investments and disbursements, including generous donations to a variety of charities and nonprofit agencies—and could afford to be generous to the beggars who roamed New York’s streets. Some people said giving them money just encouraged more begging and contributed to whatever addictions they had, but she didn’t see the harm. If a buck toward a bottle of cheap gin could get some old guy through the day, then who was she to deny what little pleasure he had. She unzipped the pack she was wearing
and pulled out a five.

  The little man skipped forward and snatched the bill, apparently not worried that he had to pass so close to the Hound of the Baskervilles. Marlene had been ready to command Gilgamesh to sit tight, but still she was surprised that he appeared no more concerned than he would have been if one of the twins had run up to her.

  “Thank you, thank you, have a Merry Christmas, Marlene Ciampi,” the man yelled over his shoulder as he trotted off down the street.

  “Wait! How’d you know my name?” Marlene shouted. She wasn’t sure she liked strangers in monk’s costumes knowing who she was.

  The “monk” pulled up and looked back, most of his face still hidden in the cowl. “Why, everyone knows Marlene Ciampi,” he said and cackled. “I seen you in a newspaper once.”

  “Then can I know your name?” Marlene said, relieved by the simple explanation though she couldn’t remember the last time her photograph had been published.

  “Roger,” the man said. “Thank you for asking. It’s been a long time since one of you up-world people cared what my name was…. I was beginning to think it was ‘Fuck Off, Bum.’” The man cackled again and resumed his retreat.

  “Well then, have a Merry Christmas, Roger,” she called after him. Too late, she wondered what he meant by up-world.

  Marlene shook her head. Sometimes living in Manhattan was like living in the old Twilight Zone television show. She rang the buzzer across from the name tag that said Michalik .

  “Da?”answered a female voice.

  “Helena. It’s Marlene.”

  There was a buzz at the door and a click. Marlene pushed the door open and climbed up to the second floor, where Helena was standing out in the hallway.

  “Oh, my goodness,” the woman said, laughing. “You’re right…that is some puppy.” She bent over and patted her thighs. “Come, puppy, say hello.”

  Gilgamesh wagged his tail and looked up at Marlene with a question on his broad face. “Sure,” she answered, releasing his leash. “Go say hi.”

  The hound bounded down the hallway and nearly bowled Helena over. She grabbed him by the scruff on either side of his face as he licked hers.

  “Umm, I should have asked,” Marlene said, looking at the open door to the Michalik apartment. “But do you have cats?”

  Helena stopped playing with the dog and looked at her. “No. I am not a cat person,” she said. “Should I have a cat?”

  “Not if you want Gilgamesh to visit. How are you?”

  The smile dropped from Helena’s face. She shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I guess. Please, I’m forgetting my manners, welcome,” she said, stepping forward and giving Marlene a kiss on each cheek.

  Helena led the way into the small but comfortable and well-appointed apartment. Several Russian icon paintings hung on the wall in the entryway; vases of fresh flowers seemed to occupy most flat surfaces. Marlene noticed that the crib in the living room was already occupied by a half-dozen stuffed animals.

  “When are you due?” Marlene asked.

  “In June,” Helena said, brightening. She looked happily at the crib, but then her face fell again.

  The bedroom door in the back of the apartment opened and Alexis Michalik stepped out. Wow, Marlene thought, no wonder college coeds wanted a piece of this guy. The dark, wavy hair had just enough gray in it to qualify as highlights, and he had the deep, soulful brown eyes that qualified him as a poet whether he could write or not. He smiled and held out his hand though with one eye on the dog.

  “Alexis Michalik,” he said. “Helena told me about how you have offered to help us. I cannot thank you enough.” He looked at Gilgamesh and laughed. “I did not know that they allowed you to keep bears as pets in New York City.”

  Marlene liked Alexis immediately, just as she’d liked Helena. But she felt compelled to set the record straight. Butch had warned her that the Michalik case might not be winnable. In the time she’d spent protecting women from the men who abused them, she’d met plenty who seemed like Prince Charming on the outside, only to find they were monsters inside. “As I told Helena,” she said. “I’m willing to look into your situation. If I don’t take the case as your lawyer, I might be able to recommend someone who will. But we need to talk and I’m going to have to ask you to be absolutely honest with me…and Helena.”

  “What do you mean?” Helena said.

  “We’ll get to it,” she said. “But first tell me how you two met.” This part wasn’t necessary for what she needed, but she’d found through long experience that when she had to ask difficult questions, it was good to throw a few softballs first to loosen up.

  “I was a student at the university in Moscow,” Helena said, drifting into the tiny kitchen and reemerging with a pot of tea and three cups.

  “I was an architecture major—to draw buildings, you know—but my roommate was a poetry student and deeply infatuated with Alexis. To be honest, I was not much a fan of poetry—especially Russian poetry, which is always so dark and moody—”

  “Unfair,” Alexis complained. “This first poem I wrote to you compared you to spring on the steppes—‘a rush of flowers on heaven’s stairs.’”

  “Yes,” Helena said, but then rolled her eyes, “with the obligatory ending that if I would not be his, winter would come to the steppes and freeze his heart for all eternity.”

  Marlene laughed.

  “Anyway, I would much rather go dancing…to the Rolling Stones, preferably,” Helena said. “But he was so cute and earnest with his poems—”

  “And she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen,” he finished her sentence. “I knew as soon as I spoke to her after the reading that she and I were meant for each other.”

  “What about your roommate?” Marlene asked.

  “When she learned that Alexis had asked me out, and I’d said yes, she threw all of my clothes out the window of our apartment.”

  “Which was good for me because she had nowhere else to go but my place,” Alexis said.

  They’d married soon afterward, but life was a struggle in Moscow for a poetry professor. Even though Alexis had won several prestigious international poetry awards, and several of his books had been published in Europe, his salary barely kept them above the poverty line. Helena had to quit school to work as a secretary, but even then they could not make ends meet.

  The offer to teach as an endowed chair at New York University where he would be paid nearly four times the amount they made from both their salaries combined had seemed like a miracle. They had both fallen in love with America and hoped to be allowed to remain.

  “I am a Russian in my soul,” Alexis said. “I love my native land. But the end of the Soviet Union did not bring the economic boom everyone hoped for; it brought even more corruption and gangsters. If you wanted justice, you had to pay for it. There was no hope that things would get better. Here it is better. You can dream, and while Americans may not speak as highly of their artists, they pay them better. So, I am Russian in my soul, but becoming an American in my heart.”

  If only we all felt as strongly, Marlene thought but cautioned herself against letting this poetic man sway her with words when his actions might not have been so noble.

  “So,” Helena said, changing the subject, “you said you wanted to talk to us about Alexis’s case.”

  Marlene looked at the younger woman and saw the fear in her eyes. She didn’t want to hurt her but this had to be done. She turned to Alexis. “Like I said, I need to ask you some questions before I’ll take this case. And let me warn you, you have to be completely honest with me, no matter how painful the answers, or I’m out of here. Understand?”

  Alexis hung his head and sighed. “Yes, I will be honest,” he said. “Ask.”

  “Then tell me the truth about your relationship with Sarah Ryder—from the beginning and right through to when you last spoke with her,” Marlene said. Rather than ask specific questions at the moment, she wanted to see if he would try to downplay certain
aspects or lie. But he didn’t.

  He spoke about how he’d met his accuser, the helpful student and friend. “She was—how do you say this, flirting—yes, flirting. I know now that I should have…um…nip this in the bud, but I admit I found it to be flattering and I thought harmless.”

  “Was there any physical contact?” Marlene asked.

  “None. Well, except that she liked to hug and seems to be infatuated with the European custom of kissing on the cheeks. But nothing else, not until just before the incident when she kissed me on the mouth and told me that she was in love with me.”

  “How come you did not tell me this?” Helena interrupted angrily.

  Alexis shrugged. “I did not think it was a big deal. I told her that I enjoyed her friendship, but that I did not feel the same…that I was already married to the woman that I loved.”

  “I don’t suppose you made any sort of dated notation about this incident with Ms. Ryder?” Marlene asked. “A memo in a file or an email?”

  “No. It was a kiss. I told her that it could not happen again, and she seemed to accept that…she said we could be just friends.”

  “What happened after that?”

  Alexis leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling with his hands clasped in front of his stomach. “Nothing. She was just the nice, helpful student struggling to complete her master’s thesis, which is why I agreed to see her that evening in my office. I was feeling somewhat guilty as her adviser because I had been so focused on trying to complete the translation of my book. I felt I owed her the time.”

  Alexis reached the point where Sarah arrived and brought out the beer, which she then spilled. “That is when she must have put something in my drink,” he said.

  “Something in your drink?” Marlene said. “The toxicology report indicates that she had rohypnol in her bloodstream. Are you saying that you were drugged?”

  “I did not see her do this,” he said, explaining how he’d left to fetch a paper towel. “But I’m Russian and no stranger to stronger drink than a weak American beer. Yet, after we talked for some minutes, I felt…well, actually, I felt good, relaxed, but my mind was like…you would say mush. The next day, I confronted her with this, but she says I drugged her.”