The Hardest Thing

for—oh, let me see—ten, fifteen years? And that’s without anything that might come up in the Marshall trial. Because he will come to trial, with or without your cooperation. Thing is, if you wanted to help us, you’d be helping yourself. We might just accidentally wipe some of the home movies on your clever little cell phone. Major Stagg here might develop a touch of amnesia about what you did to him in that warehouse. I mean, he was unconscious for most of the time, wasn’t he? Can’t be expected to remember everything. A good defense attorney would say he’d dreamed the whole thing. As for Mr. Cooper…”
    “Who?”
    “Oh, I’m sorry. You probably know him as Stirling
McMahon.” Rotherstein made great show of referring to his notes. “You know. The one you abducted and raped?”
    “Huh.”
    “And filmed.”
    Ferrari crossed his arms over his chest. The hospital pajamas really weren’t doing him any favors.
    “What was the big idea, Ferrari? Something to jerk off to in your old age? A new career in Internet porn? Come on. What kind of asshole leaves evidence like this lying around? Someone who wants to get caught, I’d say. Wouldn’t you, Major Stagg?”
    “Someone with a dirty little secret,” I said.
    “So what’s the story?” Rotherstein perched on the edge of the bed. “You were Marshall’s delivery boy, weren’t you? Surely there was plenty to go around. Or didn’t the boss like you sampling the goods?”
    “Fuck you.”
    “You can play the macho gangster all you like, Ferrari, but this says different.” Rotherstein gently slapped the cell phone against the palm of his hand. “What’s your defense going to be? Plenty to choose from, and I’ve heard ’em all. How about good old homosexual panic? When confronted with a gay man you totally lost your mind and started raping and kidnapping. Hmm, but that doesn’t account for some of the stuff we saw. Okay, let’s try undue influence. ‘Julian Marshall brainwashed me with his perverted habits and I couldn’t control myself.’ So in a fit of temporary insanity you forced a semiconscious man to fuck Stirling McMahon for the cameras before you proceeded to beat the shit out of both of them in—what? An attack of guilt?”

    “Listen…”
    Rotherstein held up his hand. “Or try this for size. You were abused as a kid by—hey, is Ferrari an Italian name? You were abused by priests, then. You struggled for years against it but then it all came flooding back and you had to reenact it as a form of therapy. That could get you off, with the right judge. You might even sue the Roman Catholic church for damages. What do you say?”
    “Listen, man…”
    “I’m all ears.”
    Ferrari made a few false starts. “I don’t know.”
    “How about I ask you some questions, and you give me some answers? Crazy idea. But let’s just try it.”
    Sergeant Lynskey and I sat down to watch the show.
    “Now, Mr. Ferrari.” Rotherstein looked out of the window as if intrigued by the dismal view. “Let’s go back to the events of last Friday, shall we? Not too far back. Can you remember where you were, and what you were doing?”
    “Of course I can’t.”
    “No, you’re a busy man. Why should you remember every little detail? So let me help you. Major Stagg here called you just after midday. You didn’t answer your phone.”
    “For fuck’s sake.”
    “You spoke later in the day, around about five. Yes? You told Major Stagg you’d been on the subway.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Take the subway often, Mr. Ferrari?”
    “No.”

    “Good.” Rotherstein turned toward the bed with an affable smile. “So you’ll doubtless remember the occasion. Like, where you were going, what you were doing.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Could it be, in fact, that you made a mistake? You hadn’t been in the subway at all. That was just the first thing you could think up to explain why you didn’t answer Major Stagg’s call.”
    “What the fuck is this all about? You said you were going to ask me questions.”
    “I’m sorry. I get sidetracked by the details. That’s the trouble in my job. The details.” He stared down at Ferrari, who seemed to shrink. “Go on.”
    “What?”
    “Friday. Subway, missed phone call, blah, blah, blah. Anything to add?”
    “I told you, I want my lawyer.”
    “Okay. Have it your way. Ten to fifteen for abduction and aggravated sexual assault. I think I’ve got enough to get a couple of conspiracy charges to