Date Rape New York (21 page)

Chapter 31

“No,” said Grazia. She put the phone down. She wasn’t ready to talk to the man who had raped her. Instead, she opened her laptop and did a search for the Naples office of Miranda Security Systems. It was just after three in the afternoon in Naples. She picked up her smartphone and tapped in the number.

“Grazia Conti here,” she said, “from Francisco Pamplona Law Offices. Top of your list for who leaked the information regarding the Kourtis cement contract.” Quickly, Miranda Laterza, owner of the firm, was on the line.

“I’m turning you over to our technology security team,” Miranda said without preamble. “They will help you download our privacy software. Then they will hook us up.”

Downloading and installing the Miranda Security software took fifteen tedious minutes, then Grazia begged time for a shower. She pulled on jeans and a shirt and logged in using her new security code. Then she and Miranda Laterza were studying each other on-screen.

Grazia had met Miranda five years before when Francisco’s human resources department had turned her over to the Miranda Security Systems team for the final screening that allowed Grazia to be offered the job at Francisco’s firm. Two Miranda Security agents had grilled her for an hour. Miranda herself had finished the interrogation. For weeks, Miranda Security Systems staff had contacted every significant person in Grazia’s life.

Miranda was in her fifties, with a calm face that was stunning when she smiled. Not a single strand of gray marred her chestnut hair. She wore a lime green business suit, a turquoise silk blouse, and a heavy string of pearls with a suspiciously authentic glow. Miranda looked her over.

“You look tired.”

“This has been a horrible, exhausting week, and it isn’t over yet,” replied Grazia grimly.

Half an hour later, voice hoarse, Grazia was turning the final page of her journal. She had followed it to insure she left out nothing. “For myself,” she concluded, “I need to know how this information got to the press and Building Safety. If I talked while I was drugged, I’ll accept the consequences and find another career. If I didn’t talk about the Kourtis situation when I was drugged, I have to prove I didn’t. Any way I can help your investigation, tell me. And I would appreciate your help in finding who drugged and raped me.”

“It’s too coincidental that both happened the same night, in the same bar,” Miranda commented. “You’re being very calm about this. Are you under medication?”

“No. The emergency room nurse said that anti-anxiety or sedatives could keep my brain in a drugged state, and I need every brain cell I’ve got. I talk to my crisis counselor every day, and I’m working closely with a police detective.” Grazia didn’t mention the hypnotist. “I’m managing not to break down by keeping busy. I’m saving that for when I get home. Francisco fired me and I’ll have time for that.” She managed a smile.

Miranda returned the smile. Then she sobered. “Is it possible that you will eventually remember what happened?”

“Not all, unfortunately. Rohypnol inhibits the formation of memory. But I vomited right away and may have expelled much of the drug, so maybe the effects didn’t last as long as usual. I am having memory flashes. The nurse said this sometimes happen, even to women given a big dose.”

Miranda consulted her notes. “We spoke to a Detective Cargill who wouldn’t tell us anything.”

“He will now.” She gave Miranda Cargill’s cell phone. “He’s going to ask you to trace some people in Italy who may have a connection to Kourtis or me.” She explained about Manuel, the list of Italian men registered in nearby hotels that Sophia had given her, and Laura’s connection to the Kourtis contract.

“Email us the details of these people, locking your email with the security system that my team just gave you. This hotel maid who gave you the names—why did she do that?”

“To help me fill this dark hole in my memory. She found me in my room Sunday morning. She called the security officer, and together they took me to the emergency room.”

“Why take you personally? They could have called an ambulance.”

“The security officer doesn’t want drug-facilitated assault to happen in his hotel, and he called the detective to come to the ER. Sophia has been the chambermaid for my room ever since I got here, so I know her. She’s Italian, and we talk.” Grazia hesitated. Sophia had been such a friend; Grazia didn’t want to believe something was motivating her friendship. Still, she had to tell Miranda everything if she was going to use her help. “Detective Cargill is wondering why Sophia found me an hour and a half before her shift started. And he says it’s odd that she’s been the maid for my room since I arrived. Her usual work area is two floors up. Even the chief of security here at the hotel doesn’t know why.”

“We’ll check her out.” Miranda consulted a paper that had just been handed to her. “About that anonymous email you got last night, I’m going to give you an address in Manhattan to take your computer to have the IP address traced.” She read off an address that Grazia recognized as East Village, not far from the Hotel Fiorella. “He’s expecting you within the hour.”

“Can you have him trace another IP address? Manuel sent an email to Stanley saying he was in Italy. Stanley forwarded it to me.”

“Of course. Show the technician both emails. Now let’s focus on the information that reached the press and the building-safety inspectors. You said you worked on a document related to this client in your hotel room. What did you do with the document when you left the room?”

“I locked my laptop in my suitcase in the closet. The papers that I was working on were in a folder on my desk.”

“You weren’t worried about anyone reading them?”

“There was nothing incriminating in that document. It stated the terms that the client would be negotiating next week. The only term relating to the issue that was leaked was that Kourtis would repour the cement already poured so as to be in compliance with the anticipated new earthquake regulations. Besides, I never invited anyone to my room. No one knew what I was working on except Kourtis and Francisco.”

“Did you talk to anyone about it?”

“Besides at the Brazilian Bar? No. I don’t know anyone.”

“The hotel chamber maid, Sophia, did she ever ask what you were writing?”

Grazia thought about that. “She asked what my job was. I told her I was a contract lawyer and had to finish the document before Saturday. She came in to clean during the video call with Kourtis. It was a long call, and she brought me a cup of tea.”

“What day did you finish the document?”

“Saturday morning. I had nearly finished Friday evening. Sophia told me about a museum that’s free on Friday evenings, so I went over there. Then I had a meal in the museum café. When I got back to the hotel, I was too tired to review the document. So I got up early Saturday morning and read it over. Then I went out for breakfast to the same café where I go every morning.”

“Where was the document when you went for breakfast?”

“On the table in my hotel room, with my laptop. When I came back, everything was as I had left it. After breakfast, I read the contract over again, then phoned Kourtis to tell him it was ready and that I had written exactly what we had discussed during our video conversation. I said I was sending it by courier to Francisco’s apartment in Naples. He would bring it to Kourtis’ offices on Monday.” Grazia flipped to her appointment calendar on her smartphone and gave Miranda the exact times of the conversations.

“The video call to Mr. Kourtis from New York and the phone call, were they on secure lines?”

“The video conversation was on the Kourtis company secure system. The phone call was on my cell phone. But during that phone call, we didn’t speak of details. He just told me to courier it to Francisco and he would meet him on Monday.”

“We’re investigating the Kourtis office situation now to determine if the leak originated there. However, it’s difficult to gain full access since he’s in jail and we’re not allowed to talk to him.” Miranda consulted her notes. “Let me review how the document was routed. Saturday morning, you called the courier we had arranged for you. What time?”

“Ten o’clock. He came to the hotel lobby, and I handed him the document. He sealed it inside a courier envelope and said the document would arrive at Francisco’s apartment in Naples late Sunday morning.”

“The package was handed over to my courier at the airport late Sunday morning as scheduled. We attempted a delivery to Francisco’s apartment in Naples. But his daughter answered the door and told the courier that Francisco was at his beach house. We verified this with him by phone with his bodyguard who was there, and delivered it into the bodyguard’s hands early Sunday afternoon.”

“Celestina isn’t in Naples. She’s in Boston, at Harvard.” Grazia was startled.

Miranda shrugged. “She’s home now. She’s done this before. On the spur of the moment, she flies home. This time we had to get two bodyguards in place on an hour’s notice. Anyway, she told the courier that Francisco’s wife was at the beach house and had become ill. Francisco had left Naples for the beach house early Saturday morning.”

Grazia nodded, thinking. “I thought he was at the beach house when he called me by video communication Sunday evening. He was wearing the peach polo shirt.” She gave a weak smile.

Miranda’s voice was carefully neutral. “Did you discuss the Kourtis document on Sunday with Francisco?”

“Yes. Sunday night. He video called me and yelled at me about the terms I had drafted. He said Kourtis would never agree. I said that Kourtis already had agreed.”

“If someone had overheard his side of the conversation, would it be possible to figure out what you were talking about?”

“If this someone were familiar with Francisco’s clients. Were there guests at the beach house? Belinda likes to give parties.”

“The courier only saw the gate guard and the bodyguard. The housekeeper, butler, and the groundskeeper had that Sunday off. So did Belinda’s bodyguard. They’re all secure, anyway. My office did their background checks. Francisco hires his bodyguards himself.”

Grazia was reminded how closely Miranda Security was tied to Francisco’s office and home. His account must represent a big portion of her income. If Francisco wanted Miranda to set Grazia up for this leak, how could Miranda refuse?

Grazia was thinking aloud. “I’m astounded that Francisco left Naples when his daughter was home. He worships the ground she walks on. Is Belinda ill, or is she faking it? She’s insanely jealous of Celestina’s close relationship with Francisco, according to gossip at the fitness club. She might fake an illness to separate them.”

Miranda looked at Grazia steadily. “Office gossip says you are having an affair with Francisco. It started about the time you were promoted to the negotiating job.”

Grazia winced. “Is this relevant?”

“Could be.” Miranda’s voice was neutral.

Grazia took a deep breath. “He wasn’t married when we started the affair. I broke it off when he announced he was marrying Belinda. Six months after he married her, he started up the affair again. He said Belinda had married him for his money and wouldn’t sleep with him. I felt sorry for him. And I missed him. But two weeks
before I came to New York, I told him it was over, and I told him that again when he drove me to the airport to catch my New York flight ten days ago.  Francisco didn’t want me to end it. He paid for this trip to bribe me to stay with him. But I’m leaving my job at the firm, too. I have a job interview Monday afternoon. That was the news I got at the Brazilian Bar that we were celebrating with champagne. It’s a great job. I’m praying I get it.”

Chapter 32

Sophia inserted her key-card into Grazia’s door and hit the security chain just as Grazia was yanking on her snow boots. Grazia was running late. Her laptop was in its case, ready to take to the computer technician who would trace the IP addresses of the emails from the anonymous emailer and from Manuel. She had already called the reception desk to ask the doorman to flag her down a cab. She zipped her coat as she unlatched the chain.

“I was on the phone for an hour with the head of Miranda Security Systems in Naples,” she told Sophia in a rush.  She hesitated, remembering Cargill’s caution about not telling people what she was doing. Still, Grazia had to talk about it. Her actions were getting back to the men who had raped her. They were showing their hand by mugging her in the street. Yes, she was frightened but Cargill was watching her back now and she was being more careful where she went by herself. 

“Miranda Security Systems is searching for Manuel in Italy,” she explained to Sophia. “And they’re tracing the names you gave me to find a connection to me or Kourtis. I’ve located all their photos except one who is from my own firm. I may have his photo by this evening.” She told Sophia about the anonymous email and the computer technician who would trace the IP address. “After that, I’ve got my session with Cindy. Then I’m taking a DNA sample to a New Jersey lab. I may have found a suspect!”

“Grazia, I need to tell you something.” Sophia called as Grazia hurried toward the elevator.

“Can we talk later?” The elevator arrived and Grazia flung herself in.

In the business lounge, she printed four photos of Francisco and his two bodyguards; then she went into Stanley’s office. Stanley and Edmondo were facing each other across Stanley’s desk. Stanley looked grim.

“Have either of you heard from Manuel?” Grazia inquired. “Francisco’s security firm, Miranda Security, is searching for him in Naples but no word yet.” 

Stanley and Edmondo shook their heads.

“I heard you got an anonymous email last night,” Stanley said.

Grazia held up her laptop case. “I’m taking my laptop to a computer tech to trace the IP address,” she said. “Miranda Security technicians gave me his name as the best in New York. Let me give you his phone number and address in case you have a hotel guest with a serious computer problem.” She held out her hand for the pen that Edmondo was twirling nervously in his fingers and copied the information onto a piece of paper. Then she hurried to her waiting taxi.

The address Miranda had given her was in the basement of a narrow brick apartment building in the East Village. Grazia carefully negotiated the snowy steps while her taxi idled, the exhaust a white plume in the frigid air. Inside, she showed the tech the anonymous email and Manuel’s email to Stanley. The tech mumbled something about her coming back at four o’clock.

Raoul was already seated at their usual window table when she hurried in. Part way through a bagel, he half rose to kiss her on the cheek. She let his kiss linger, distracted by his cologne. It smelled familiar. Was this scent a bit of memory from when she had been chatting with him at the Brazilian Bar Saturday night, or was it from their previous breakfasts? That was the trouble with these odd bits of memory. She didn’t know where to place them in time.

“I’m going to miss these breakfasts,” she smiled. “When you move back to Italy, let’s meet for old time’s sake.”

“You actually want to remember this experience?” He raised an eyebrow. “If this happened to me, I’d want to forget everything and everybody.” 

“I can’t remember the worst part.” It felt good to make the feeble joke. It meant she was getting back on her feet. Bantering with the male attorneys was the best part of her job. She ordered scrambled eggs and bacon and told the waiter to pour her real coffee. It was time she separated her feelings of anxiety from the increased heart rate caused by caffeine.

“I’m late because I took my laptop to a computer geek in the East Village,” she said. “Last night I got an anonymous email from the man who assaulted me. The geek is tracing the IP address. I’m getting close, Raoul!” Her phone rang. Miranda’s number showed on the screen.

“Where are you?” Miranda demanded.

“Having breakfast at my usual place.”

“With your usual companion?”

“Yes.”

“Then just listen and keep the information to yourself. We’ve located Manuel’s mother. She’s healthy, at home, and chatty. Sunday morning Manuel wired her a thousand dollars from a cash courier in a place called Flushing, New York. Manuel’s mother says Manuel is at home with his wife and children. I called your detective’s cell phone but he’s not picking up. His office phone is on voice mail. I sent him an email, but I suggest you call him and pass on the information.” She closed the connection.

“Further developments?” Raoul inquired.

“That was the head of Miranda Security in Naples.”

“Aha! Are her operatives coming to New York?”

“No. She’s working by phone with me and Detective Cargill.”

“What about your mugging yesterday? Has your police detective found the culprit?”

“Detective Cargill believes that the man who drugged me knows I’m recording everything in my journal. He mugged me to get the journal and the bag of clothes.” Their breakfasts arrived, and she stopped talking to fork in eggs, then sat back to butter her toast.

“I went to the Brazilian Bar again last night,” she continued. “Your three friends were there. I thought maybe if I talked to them at the location itself, it might prompt a memory.”

“Did it?”

“Not really.” She paused for a moment. She had gotten into the habit of waiting for a memory to drop. This time it didn’t.

“Sorry I wasn’t at the Brazilian Bar last night to see you,” Raoul was saying. “I had to work late.”

“Your friends told me you went to Boston on Monday. But you were here for breakfast Monday morning.”

“I left for Boston right after breakfast, and I came back that same night, late. I didn’t want to miss Tuesday breakfast with you! Any investigative activities today?”

“After my counseling session with Cindy, I’m going to a New Jersey DNA lab. I have a possible suspect, and I’ve obtained something with his DNA. The medical examiner won’t do any more lab work on my case, so I have to pay for this myself.”

“That’s fantastic! Anyone I know?”

She smiled at his joke. “If I’m right, I’ll tell you who he is.”

Raoul glanced at his watch, then reached for the bill. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run.” He shrugged on his coat.

Grazia continued speaking. “I also got the phone number of the man who called the Hotel Fiorella reception Sunday night and left the message ‘Give up. You won’t find me’.”

Raoul sat down again. “You said it had been erased from the auto-redial.”

“It wasn’t. Detective Cargill wants to do a controlled call on speakerphone so he and another police officer can listen in.” She turned to the page in her journal and pointed at the number. He peered at it.

“Call him now. Why wait?” he suggested. Then saw her stricken face. “Are you afraid to talk to him?”

She stared at her phone in her hand and spoke slowly, as if speaking to herself. “This man assaulted me. He left two frightening phone messages and sent a very aggressive email. He may have pushed me under a taxi. How could I talk to this person?”

“I’ll call him for you.” Raoul reached for the phone.

Grazia’s fingers felt numb. Her arm wouldn’t move. But as Raoul was sliding the phone from her hand, she tightened her fingers. Slowly, she tapped in the numbers and activated speakerphone. She put the phone on the table. It rang the number. Somewhere nearby, a phone rang. Again her phone rang the number; again the other phone rang. Grazia raised her eyes to Raoul.

Raoul pulled out his phone and held it up. Grazia’s number was on the caller panel.

“This is your number? How?” With trembling fingers, Grazia closed her phone.

“I called your hotel Sunday evening. You hadn’t appeared for Sunday brunch so I decided you had stood me up. But Sunday evening, I started to worry. You had looked so sick when you left the bar Saturday night. I didn’t have your cell phone, so I called your hotel. You had told me the name. The desk clerk said you were out. I didn’t leave a message because if you were out, that meant you were all right. Whoever gave you this phone number, gave you the wrong one.”

Grazia’s brain was whirling. Why would Luigi give Cargill the wrong number? Was the error deliberate or accidental?

Raoul put his hand on her arm. “Don’t go to New Jersey alone,” he said earnestly. “You’ve already been pushed under a taxi. I would go with you, but I have a presentation to make. Hey, let’s make a deal. I’ll call you every hour. Then I’ll know you’re safe.”

Grazia shook her head.

“No? How about dinner tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven at your hotel.” He adjusted his leather gloves over his watch.

Grazia nodded acceptance.

As he turned toward the door, Grazia reached for her journal. She found the entry quickly; she had memorized her journal, she had studied it so many times. Monday morning, Raoul had been wearing a gold watch with a gold band. It had glinted in the morning light. It definitely wasn’t the silver watch with a leather band that Raoul was wearing now.