residents, Ms. Foote, faculty and administration. Here's a list of the people I'd like to see tomorrow. At
'I'm just not certain of the availability of these people on such short notice.'
'Coop, have you got any paper with you?'
I opened my folder and removed several grand jury subpoenas. Foote knew exactly what that meant. 'They can be in Detective Chapman's office in the morning, or they can come directly to the courthouse at the end of the week and be questioned by me, under oath, before the grand jury. Their call, Sylvia.' I scribbled in the names and dates while Chapman kept talking.
Foote ushered us into a small room adjacent to her own. For the rest of the afternoon, we saw a stream of young adults who attended King's College and lived in the five boroughs or surrounding suburbs. Most of them acted as though they would rather be boarding the
One of the last to straggle in was a senior who had lived on the same floor as Charlotte during the spring semester. Kristin Baymer was also twenty. Her home was a Fifth Avenue apartment, where her father and stepmother were raising her infant half brother. She parked herself on the sofa opposite the desk at which I had been working and curled up with her knees underneath her, stifling a yawn as she greeted us.
'I'm not gonna get in trouble for this, am I?'
'Depends what you did,' Mike said, trying to apply his charm, along with his best grin and most collegiate affect.
'Drugs. You probably know that I was on academic probation sophomore year. Got caught with some pills. Amphetamines tranquilizers. That kind of stuff.'
'We're not here on a drug bust, Kristin. We've got a murder to solve and a girl to find. Hey, I'd like it if nobody stuck needles in their arms or snorted coke, but I'm not the Vice Squad. What you say to us about any of that stays right in this room '
Foote hadn't given us the student files, so we hadn't known Kristin's background. She looked too wasted and too tired to worry about whom she could trust. She just started talking
'Charlotte and I had a lot in common. Both loners, both stubborn both enjoyed getting high. My mom died a few years ago hke hers. And my father married my big brother's girlfriend. My stepmother's two years older than I am, and now I've got an eight-month-old brother. Classy, huh? And they call
Did you and Charlotte spend a lot of time together?'
'Only when we were doing drugs. Otherwise, neither one of us was very sociable.'
'Did she have a favorite? Not person. I mean drug of choice '
'Charlotte? She'd try almost anything. Pills were nothing for her. She'd take ups when she was depressed. Then she'd get so manic she needed something to bring her down. She liked cocaine a lot. And heroin.'
Heroin had ravaged the drug users in urban America throughout the sixties and seventies. It had rarely appealed to young women, experts thought, because so many of them were averse to injecting themselves in the arm and developing track marks. The late nineties saw a surge of heroin use, with a new and potent strain that could be snorted and smoked, just like the more fashionable cocaine.
Kristin was biting at a hangnail now, twisting the torn skin between her teeth. 'And Ecstasy. That girl loved her Ecstasy.' She said it like an endorsement for cornflakes. Good old wholesome Ecstasy.
The pills, originally patented by the E. Merck pharmaceutical company in Germany, in 1914, were now made in Holland, Belgium, and Israel. They were being smuggled into the States in enormous quantities and had taken over the drug scene faster than any substance tracked before. The euphoric condition Ecstasy produces, along with its reputation for enhancing sexual enjoyment, made it hugely popular among young adults. The tablets stimulate the nervous system like speed, but at the same time create a sense of well-being and an almost hallucinogenic haze. So new on the scene that it wasn't even a controlled substance in New York until 1997, it was now a staple on high school and college campuses.
'Where'd you get it? The Ecstasy, I mean.'
'Are you kidding? It's easier than getting a pack of Marlboros. Kids need proof of age for cigarettes these days. Ecstasy's everywhere.' Kristin smiled.
'It's expensive, isn't it?' I thought the pills went for at least thirty dollars a pop. Fine for models and stockbrokers, but tough on a college allowance.
'Charlotte used to call my prep school friends 'Trustafarians.' No shortage of funds for a good time. My dad would rather send me money to keep me away from home than have me bitching about his wife all the time.' She looked Mike up and down, then switched her scrutiny to me. 'I don't know when either of you was last in a bar in Manhattan. But a Cosmopolitan costs nine bucks per drink. I can get the same buzz off one Ecstasy that it takes me five cocktails to match. Do the math.
'Besides, Charlotte was sleeping with Julian for the better part of a year. When you're putting out for the guy who's dealing the pills, there's an endless supply.' 'Were you close to Julian, too?'
Now she was picking at her lavender nail polish. 'Never slept with him. Didn't have to. Like I said, I could afford to buy most things that I wanted.' 'What was he like?'
Kristin shrugged her shoulders and went on flaking off the chips. 'He was an okay guy. He actually seemed to care about Charlotte. Maybe that's why she dumped him. I don't think she liked anybody getting that close to her.'
'Did she leave him for someone else?' Mike asked.
'What's the difference?'
''Cause maybe she's still alive. Maybe someone can help us find her.'
'Some of us figure she doesn't want to be found. Just went off to lead her own life.' Kristin's cavalier attitude about Charlotte's disappearance was disturbing.
'Did you know Professor Dakota?'
'Only by reputation.'
'But Charlotte was a friend of the professor's, wasn't she?'
'No way,' Kristin said, looking at me as if I were crazy.
'What makes you so sure?'
'Fall semester, last year, okay? Charlotte flunked Dakota's class. Capital F in some bullshit course about the mayoralty in New York, La Guardia to Lindsay. Set her off in a complete funk. It was one thing for her to sweet-talk a guy like Julian into feeding her pills, but if she was kicked out of King's, then she'd have no choice but to go home to South America. Tuition was the only thing her father would pay for. No frills. If she wasn't at college, hasta la vista, sweet Charlotte. You two look surprised.'
'I am a bit surprised,' Mike led off. 'Lola Dakota kept a bulletin board behind her desk. Had some pictures of her relatives, had some snapshots of famous people. But she also had a photograph of Charlotte Voight. Like something from a freshman mug book. We just assumed it meant she took an interest in the girl. Cared about her. Missed her.'
Kristin nipped at her raw skin again. 'Julian would have keeled over at that one. He used to tell Charlotte that Dakota would get what was coming to her someday. I just thought he was being macho for her sake. Never thought anyone would kill the SOB. Must be some other reason that Charlotte's picture's on her board.'
'Who else can we talk to about Charlotte?' I asked. 'There must have been other people she confided in about her plans. You don't just disappear into thin air.'
'Can't think of a soul. I was the last person to see her alive, far as I know.'
'Where was that?'
'I was coming into the lobby of the dorm about eight-thirty at night. She was on her way out, going to Julian's. She never got there. Must have changed her mind. Found another source.'
'Did she seem to be in distress? Unhappy? De-'
'Nope. She seemed just fine. Cheerful almost. I asked her if she wanted to come up to my room to do a few
