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how not to leave evidence,” commented Stanley.
    Cargill made a note. “Deleted. An experienced perpetrator. Did you go anywhere after the Brazilian Bar, Miss Conti?”
    “I don’t think so. Mrs. Springer saw me at ten-thirty walking towards the Hotel Fiorella with a man. She thought I was drunk. She said I hugged Jacky and smeared lipstick on his jacket. The man kicked Jacky. Jacky bit him. Mrs. Springer says Jacky will know the man.”
    A smile crinkled the corners of Detective Cargill’s eyes, erasing ten years. “Three witnesses! A friend, an old lady, and a dog. We might identify this guy before the day is over. How about you give Laura a call?”
    “Call?”
    Detective Cargill’s voice stayed patient. “You’ve got a smartphone; you’re a foreign businesswoman, so you have Internet phone service. Ask Laura who you left with last night. If she introduced you, she knows his name. We locate the guy, get him ID’d by Mrs. Springer and Jacky, I get his DNA, establish a connection to Nick the bartender, and bingo, there’s my arrest. So, please make the call, and get the guy’s name.”
    The onslaught of detail and her own anxiety left Grazia breathless. Her fingers were trembling as she tapped Laura’s number. She vowed to control her wobbly emotions.
    “Laura Oviedo.” The clear, confident voice speaking Italian brought Grazia a rush of relief. She didn’t have to cope in English with an aching head and a sluggish brain.
    “It’s Grazia Conti. In New York.” The words flooded out. “You have to help me, Laura. Last night at the Brazilian Bar, a man put a drug in my drink. He took me back to the hotel and,” Despite her best efforts to keep her composure, a sob escaped.
    “What are you talking about? What drug? What man?” Laura sounded alarmed.
    “I woke up this morning in my hotel room, naked. My clothes were all over the floor. I couldn’t remember anything from last night. And . . . and . . . ” Grazia started weeping in earnest. “I . . . I had had sex. I was raped. And Laura, I don’t remember who he is!”
    There was a pause. “Are you sure you had sex?” Laura demanded abruptly. Her words shocked Grazia out of her frantic confusion.
    “Of course I’m sure! Why does everyone ask if I’m sure!”
    “What do you mean, everyone?”
    “Hotel security. The police.”
    “You called the police?”
    “This is sexual assault! I’m bruised all over. The detective is here now. He’s asking me questions so he can find the man.”
    “You are with a police detective?”
    Grazia’s voice rose in frustration. “That’s why I’m calling you! I told him that you introduced me to some Italians last night. He says you will know the man I left with.”
    There was a long pause. “Grazia, you weren’t drugged. You drank champagne, and you can’t handle alcohol. After two glasses of wine in law school, you couldn’t remember your name. Last night you had a lot of champagne and must have invited one of those Italian guys back to your hotel. That’s not rape. You used a condom, I assume?”
    “I can’t remember the man; how would I remember a condom!” Grazia was shouting now. “Who was he, Laura? His name!”
    “Which one? You were flirting with every man there.”
    “The man who took me to my hotel!” Pain knifed Grazia’s right eye.
    “I didn’t see who you left with. You were still at the bar when I went to the airport.”
    Grazia felt dizzy. Her brain couldn’t cope. Detective Cargill was holding up a piece of paper. Grazia struggled to decipher his scribble. She took the phone away from her ear. “She’s in Italy,” she answered.
    “What hotel in New York did she stay in?” he asked.
    Grazia repeated the question to Laura in Italian.
    “Oh, I never remember the names of hotels. I travel so much. My office booked it.”
    “She doesn’t remember,” Grazia snapped at Cargill. She rubbed her forehead. “Laura, I am so drugged I can’t think straight. When I try to