Double Jeopardy

28

Carly Riggs put down the phone and wondered if she was having bizarre hallucinations associated with the drug she had been given. If so, that had been a very long and detailed hallucination.

There was a sharp rap at her apartment door. She walked rapidly toward it, then slowed and looked through the peephole, something she almost never bothered with. What she saw were the two detectives, a man and a woman, who had interviewed her after she was found in the lake.

She had forgotten their names. “Who is it?” she called out.

“Detectives Doris Spelling and Maury Miller. We spoke to you at the hospital.”

Carly unlocked the door, let them in, and offered them seats in her small living room. The woman was carrying a shopping bag. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I’m afraid we’ve brought sad news,” Spelling said.

“Is it Tim Scott?”

“Yes. We found the boat with Tim’s body still in it. His parents have been notified and will be claiming the body.”

“I’ll write them a note,” Carly said.

“That would be kind of you. Also,” Detective Spelling said, holding out the shopping bag, “we found your clothes and handbag in a disused shed near the water. By the way, you were not in a lake but in the upper reaches of Quinnipiac River, where it is broad and may look like a lake. You were in East Rock Park.”

“Thank you for clearing that up for me,” Carly said, starting to go through the shopping bag.

“Are all your things there?” Spelling asked.

“Let’s see: jeans, thong, shoes and socks, shirt, jacket. And my handbag.” She looked inside. “They didn’t take my money.”

“Good,” Spelling said.

“Tell me,” Carly said, addressing Spelling’s partner. “Why do you never say anything?”

“I’ll answer that,” Spelling said. “Because I tell him to shut up. He’s new at this, and he’ll learn more that way.”

“You should ignore her and speak up anyway,” Carly said to the man. “You won’t learn much by not asking questions.”

“Now,” Spelling said. “Have you thought of anything else we should know since our first interview?”

“Yes, I’ve identified the kidnappers/rapists.”

Spelling blinked. “How did you do that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know who they are first?”

“All right.”

“Eben and Enos Stone, identical twins, who are teaching a class in criminal appeals that both Tim and I are taking.” Carly told them about the eyes.

“Are you aware of the background of the twins?” Spelling asked.

“Yes, they were serving a life term for the murders of their parents, when they were pardoned by the new governor. In prison, they wrote a lot of successful appeals for prisoners, and since they had been Yale Law students, the college asked them to teach the course in summer school.”

“Correct. Have you shared your views about the identities of your assailants with anyone else?”

“Yes, I had a phone call this morning from three men and two women...”

“Would these be Barrington and Bacchetti?”

“Plus, Mrs. Bacchetti and a woman they said was a possible witness in a related crime. And the director of Central Intelligence, Lance Cabot.”

“We had a similar call from them,” Spelling said.

“They said the twins were suspects in several rape/murders. Why weren’t they doing time for those?”

“Because there was no conclusive evidence against them.”

“Is what I’ve told you conclusive evidence of them raping Tim and me?”

“I think we might need more points of identification than just their eyes.”

“Tell you what,” Carly said. “If you’ll stage a lineup of men with only their eyes visible, I’ll bet I can pick the Stone twins out of it in short order.”

“That’s an interesting thought,” Spelling said.

“You don’t make it sound all that interesting.”

“We have superiors who would need to be convinced of the usefulness of such a lineup. If you failed to pick them out, then it might damage our case at some point.”

“I won’t fail,” Carly said. “Can you give me a phone number for Mr. Barrington?”

“Perhaps,” Spelling said, flipping through her notebook. She read it out, and Carly memorized it. “Thank you,” Carly said. “May I give you some advice?”

“That would be very interesting. Please do,” Spelling said, as if to a child.

“If you will stop underestimating my intelligence and start using the help I’ve given you, you might wrap up this case a lot faster.” She stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a note to write to Tim’s parents.” She showed them out. Then she sat down and wrote a letter of condolence to Tim’s parents; later she dialed Stone Barrington’s number.

“Hello?”

“This is Carly Riggs,” she said. “I’d like to come and see you. Where are you?”

“Why do you want to see me?”

“To help you solve this case. I’m sure you need the help.”

“I’m on Islesboro,” Stone said. “Do you want to fly to Islesboro? Do you want to come and see us?”

“Why not. How do I get there?”

“Drive to the New Haven airport, and look for a green and white Cessna 182. I’ll be there in an hour. Bring a couple changes of clothing. I don’t know when we’ll get you back.”

“Okay.” Carly hung up, grabbed a duffel, and started filling it.

She parked and found a tall, good-looking man standing with another, shorter man next to a Cessna 182. Stone and Dino, she reckoned. They waved at her, then tossed her duffel and briefcase in the back and tried to put her in a rear seat.

“I want to sit up front,” she said, “so I can see if you’re flying it right.”

Stone put her in the copilot’s seat, Dino sat in the back, and shortly, they were airborne.

“Are you a pilot?” Stone asked.

“No, this is my first time in a small airplane,” she said. “But I can tell you’re doing it right.”