Natalia Garelli was a different species of beauty — an appropriate word, for there was something animal-like about her. High, hard cheekbones, eyes close together, the color an otherworldly green. She wore tight black leather pants, boots with heels that boosted her height three inches over Spiro’s, and a thin, close-fitting brown leather jacket. As supple as water.
Natalia looked over Rhyme and Spiro, the only people in the situation room at the moment, though Rhyme saw Beatrice cast a curious look at her from the lab. The Scientific Police officer turned back to a microscope.
The woman had no interest in Rhyme’s disabled condition. Her thoughts were elsewhere. ‘Have you brought me here for, come si dice? For a lineup. To identify a suspect?’
‘Sit down, please, Signorina Garelli. You are comfortable with English? My associate here does not speak Italian.’
‘Yes, yes.’ She sat, flipping her luxurious hair. ‘Allora. A lineup?’
‘No.’
‘Why am I here then? May I ask?’
Spiro said, ‘We have more questions about the sexual assault of Frieda Schorel.’
‘Yes, of course. But I spoke to you, Procuratore, and to Ispettore... What was her name?’
‘Laura Martelli. Yes. Of the Police of State.’
‘That’s right. And then I spoke to that American woman and, curiously, a Forestry Corps officer the other day.’
Spiro tossed a wry look Rhyme’s way. He turned back to Natalia. ‘One detail I am curious about. You say you and your boyfriend had a meal of Indian food the day of the party.’
A pause. ‘Yes, that is correct. Dinner.’
‘What did you have?’
‘I cannot recall for certain. Possibly korma and saag. Tikka masala. Why?’
‘And you did laundry in the afternoon?’
‘Yes. As I told you. Or told someone who asked. So I might have clean linens in the event a guest wished to stay the night.’
Spiro leaned forward slightly and asked in an abrupt tone: ‘The night of the party, for how long was Frieda, the victim, flirting with your boyfriend, Dev?’
‘I...’ He had caught her completely off guard. ‘They weren’t flirting. Who told you that?’
‘I cannot talk about witnesses who give statements in cases.’
Even nonexistent ones, Rhyme reflected.
The green eyes widened momentarily. A potent color. Shamrock green. Rhyme suspected contact lenses. She sputtered: ‘They were joking, Dev and Frieda. That is all. Your witness is mistaken. It was a party of university students in Naples. A beautiful autumn night. Everybody was having fun.’
‘Joking.’
‘Sì.’
‘Do you know if Dev has ever bought Comfort-Sure condoms?’
She blinked. ‘How dare you ask me a personal question like that?’
Spiro’s tone was persistent. ‘Please respond.’
After a hesitation she said, ‘I do not know what he buys.’
‘You are his girlfriend and this you don’t know?’
‘No. I don’t pay any attention to such things.’
‘If I were to look in your medicine cabinet would I find Comfort-Sure condoms?’
‘I resent that question and I resent your attitude.’
Spiro gave a Gallic sneer, his lower jaw extended. ‘It is of no matter. After you left to come here, an officer went through your apartment. She found no Comfort-Sure.’
‘What? How can you do that?’
‘Your apartment is a crime scene, Signorina. That is how. Now, as I was saying: None were found. However, credit card records show that your boyfriend did buy a box of Comfort-Sure three days ago. A box of twenty-four condoms. And yet there were none in the house. Where did they go? Who threw them out? For disposing of them is — let us be frank — the only way two dozen condoms might disappear within three days. Some youths have voracious appetites in that regard. But, honestly, two dozen?’
‘Are you accusing my boyfriend of the rape? He would never do such a thing.’
‘No, I am accusing you of the sexual assault of Frieda Schorel.’
‘Me? You are mad!’
‘Ah, Signorina Garelli. Let us explain what we have found.’
He glanced at Rhyme, who wheeled to face her. He said evenly, ‘The lip and neck of the wine bottle on the smoking deck contained traces of condom lubricant, which profiled to be Comfort-Sure brand. It could be associated with — forgive me. I am parsing too fine here. It matched the lubricant on Frieda’s thigh and within her vagina.
‘In my associate’s search of the scene at your apartment, she found laundry detergent and Indian food spices — you, the source of both — at the smoking station and at the scene of the assault.’ Rhyme’s lips tightened with displeasure. ‘Well, of course, you were at the smoking station, because it’s your apartment and you hosted the party. But at the scene of the assault itself? How did that happen? I should have thought of it earlier — it was my mistake to miss it. You and the victim both reported that she was climbing back onto your roof over the wall that separated the two buildings when you heard her cries for help and ran to her aid. That was many yards from the attack site. So how did curry and laundry detergent trace get to the place where she was actually assaulted?’
‘You’re mad too!’
Spiro took up the narrative: ‘We believe your boyfriend was flirting with Frieda at the party — and that they had been seeing each other off and on from the start of school — after you all met on the first day of class. You slipped the drug into Frieda’s wine. You followed her and Garry upstairs, hoping she would pass out and Garry would rape her while she was unconscious. That would be humiliating enough for her, you believed. But he didn’t; he went downstairs, leaving her alone. And you took up the matter yourself. You got one of your boyfriend’s condoms and, when the deck was empty, dragged the unconscious Frieda over the wall to the neighboring roof and violated her with the bottle. Then you hid the condom, to be disposed of later, with the others, the next day, and went about your duties as hostess.’
Rhyme knew that Natalia was the person who placed the anonymous call claiming to have seen Garry spiking the wine, and she herself would have broken into his apartment to plant the date-rape drug on his clothing; the footprints Ercole and Thom found could easily be a woman’s size.
‘Lies!’ Natalia raged, eyes flashing with pure hatred.
Spiro now continued, ‘Our inquiries as to guests at the party focused on men. We will be interviewing witnesses about your whereabouts, at the time of the rape. We have been comparing DNA with that of the men at the party. And Frieda’s other boyfriends. We will now get a warrant to compel a test of yours.’
She scoffed. ‘This is ridiculous.’ Her indignation was profound. ‘I cannot be treated like this.’
Rhyme’s impression was that she truly believed normal rules did not apply... because she was so beautiful.
Natalia rose. ‘I will not put up with this any longer. I am leaving.’
‘No, you are not.’ Spiro stood to block her way and gestured into the hall. Daniela Canton approached, pulling cuffs from her belt, then ratcheting them on Natalia’s wrists.
‘No, no! You can’t do that. It is... not right!’
Natalia stared down at her wrists, and it seemed to Rhyme that the horror registering in her eyes was not from the fact she was cuffed but that the silver of the shackles clashed with the gold of her bracelets.
Though this surely had to be his imagination.