The Ties That Bind

by Warren Adler

  "Remember," the Eggplant said, lowering his voice, speaking quickly, "this has all the earmarks of a consensual beginning that got out of hand. Herbert wants nothing short of an indictment for murder. He can give us a fit." A nerve began to palpitate in the Eggplant's jaw. "He's already giving me a fit. He has powerful friends."

  Herbert came back into the room, looking over a sheaf of faxed papers.

  "He's our man. No question about it," Herbert muttered. "Listen to this. At Harvard he was reprimanded for participating in a drunken orgy in his fraternity house in which one woman insisted she was gang-banged by a group of men. Unfortunately, she was drunk herself at the time and later retracted her earlier testimony. Two women who dated him during his college days said he was too aggressive sexually for their tastes, although they did not accuse him of rape. The same is true of a woman he dated at Georgetown. In fact, there is a club of ladies who give him bad marks in that department, although they asked that their names not be used. Oh, and here's something." He paused to read the text. "While at Georgetown, a woman was treated for contusions about the face and breasts. She was living with Barker at the time, although she did not attribute the beating to him, preferring to say it happened at the hands of a burglar. Now, really. What we have here is a picture of a man who equates violence with sex."

  "May I see that, Mr. Herbert?" Fiona asked.

  Herbert handed over the papers and Fiona began to read. As she was doing so, the Eggplant rose.

  "We'll be bringing him in for questioning as soon as Detectives FitzGerald and Prentiss get to him. I'm sure your investigation will be extremely helpful, Mr. Herbert."

  "It's continuing, Captain. This is only a preliminary report."

  "I want to assure you of our complete cooperation," the Eggplant said. "If Barker is the perpetrator, I promise you, he will be charged."

  "No 'ifs,' Captain," Herbert said. "He is our man."

  After the Eggplant left, Fiona finished reading the papers and handed them to Gail. Herbert's interpretation was remarkably accurate. According to the report, there was no question that Phelps Barker had an aggression problem when it came to women. Certainly, the evidence of his potential guilt was piling up. More than ever she needed to talk with Herbert privately. Unfortunately, now was not the time.

  "This should be very helpful, Mr. Herbert," Fiona said. "Very."

  "Are you willing to commit yourself to the idea with a bit more fervor, Sergeant?"

  Fiona nodded. There was no sense showing less than full enthusiasm. She needed to reassure him, gain his confidence for what she must ask him.

  "I'm very encouraged, Mr. Herbert," Gail said. "He'll never know what hit him."

  When Barker was hit, he did, indeed, know it.

  At his request, they had picked him up on the corner of Fourteenth and Constitution, a few blocks from the Justice Department. More routine questioning, he had been told, a follow-up to their earlier interviews. They gave him his option as to the site of this additional questioning. He said he preferred that it be held outside of the Justice Department.

  Fiona suspected that Thomas Herbert had also put in his oar at Justice. If he had, Fiona considered such an action a travesty. Unlike the first few days of the investigation, where she had, in a sense, abdicated her seniority, she took charge this time. If Gail was miffed, she said nothing.

  Fiona had made the call to Barker. She asked if he wanted a lawyer present. He declined, pointing out that he was innocent and did not see the need to escalate the situation.

  Although Barker didn't ask, Fiona assured him that everything would be handled in confidence. His principal fear, it seemed, was of the media. This indicated to Fiona that he might be relying on his innocence to protect him, a reassuring reaction in terms of Fiona's hypothesis. He also seemed reassured that it was FitzGerald, not Prentiss, making the call.

  They brought him into a private room off the squad room. He wasn't exactly happy about the choice of venue, but he seemed willing to endure it. He had also shed his earlier pose of fraternity-boy arrogance.

  Entering the room, he took off his blue blazer and hung it on the back of a chair, then sat down at a battered table, opposite Fiona and Gail. He folded his hands, waiting for their questions.

  Fiona found the atmosphere both disturbing and ironic. Gail had acknowledged that she thought he was guilty. Fiona was still unconvinced, her antennae still probing in the direction of Farley Lipscomb. Both were operating at the nether ends of competing agendas.

  "We want to give you every opportunity to be straightforward, Mr. Barker," Fiona began. "All we ask is for your complete candor and honesty. On our part, we intend to be scrupulously fair. Do you understand?"

  Gail Prentiss sat beside her, saying nothing, deferring to Fiona, who had no illusions about Gail's real role. She was Herbert's monitor.

  "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 t
he 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 hi
s 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.