The Deadhouse by Linda Fairstein Read Free Book Online Page A

interview, see if I
can get her back into school. A mind is a terrible thing to waste."
    The guard waved us in without looking up. I found a space in front
of the Graduate School of Journalism, on the corner of Broadway, and
Chapman locked his arm in mine as I lowered myself out of the Jeep; we
jogged together across the double-wide street and headed down to
Claremont, fighting against the strong wind as we ran.
    Sylvia Foote's secretary was expecting us. She took our coats and
led us into Foote's small office, which overlooked the avenue and
Barnard Hall directly opposite. Foote extended a hand to both of us,
and made the introductions to Paolo Recantati, explaining that he was
the acting president of King's College, and formerly a history
professor at Princeton.
    Recantati invited us to sit in a pair of black leather seats with
our backs against the large bay window, while he moved across from us
to a straight-backed wooden armchair and Foote remained behind her
desk. They offered nothing, and waited for me to speak.
    "As you know, Sylvia, I'd been working with Lola Dakota on the case
against Ivan for almost two years. And I'm sure she made you aware of
what the New Jersey prosecutors were doing. Despite their best efforts,
it's doubtful that Lola's death was an accident after all. Detective
Chapman and I are here to try to get your help in finding out what was
going on in her life and who else, besides Ivan, might have wanted her
dead."
    Recantati spoke to me before Foote even opened her lips to form a
response. "I know what your area of expertise is, Miss Cooper. Are you
telling me that someone sexually assaulted Lola and then killed her?"
    "There's no reason to believe that at—"
    "Then exactly why are you involved? Shouldn't we be working with Mr.
Sinnelesi's office on this? Lola's case was being handled by his
people."
    "The Dakota matter has been my investigation for close to two years.
I supervise the domestic abuse cases as well as sex crimes. The issues,
the sensitivity concerns, the needs of survivors going through the
system—many of the problems overlap in these situations. I know the
background of Lola and Ivan's relationship, most of her history, a lot
of the intimate details of her private life. If she was the victim of
an attack—a murder—in New York, I will be the person in charge of the
prosecution."
    Recantati pursed his lips and looked off to his left, as though to
take a cue from Foote. He was tall and lean, and for a few moments, the
crossing and uncrossing of his long legs was the only obvious sign of
his discomfort. He'd probably never dealt with anything quite like this
in his idyllic ivory tower, before coming to Manhattan.
    Chapman pushed himself to the edge of his seat and eyeballed
Recantati. "You think if you don't give us what we need, we'll just
fold up our tents in the night and slip off to the next unsolved crime?
You got how many students here?"
    "Almost three thousand at King's," he said softly."And how many next
door at Columbia?"
    "Close to thirty thousand," he murmured.
    "So start out with something like sixty-six thousand mothers and
fathers picking this up on the evening news, half of'em spread out
around the country, who didn't want their kids coming to this city of
perverts and potheads to begin with."
    Foote and Recantati exchanged scowls.
    "Best view of it is, you had a little marital discord that got out
of hand, off campus, so nobody else here is at risk," Chapman said,
brushing his hands against each other as though to wipe away the
problem. "Worst view of it is that you got somebody roaming this
neighborhood, making all these darling scholars and social saviors of
the future vulnerable to violence. And exactly what are
you
two
doing to make little Jennifer and little Jason safe at school?"
    "Believe me, Detective, this is an entirely new problem for us here
on campus."
    "You must be frigging nuts if you think I buy that one. We're not
talking 'animal house' and student