holding in his bony hand. 'Okay if we park this inside for a couple of hours? I'm taking my niece here for an 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
'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 pranks. This is a college in the middle of a neighborhood that used to boast one of the highest homicide rates in the city. Just look next door at Columbia- they've had students murdered in their dorm rooms and apartments, kids who've been robbed and raped by other students, as well as by strangers from the street.'
Recantati opened his mouth to speak but Chapman wouldn't be interrupted. 'There's been more drugs used in some of these halls than Keith Richards and Puff Daddy have seen in their combined lifetimes. This isn't the time to hide behind your cap and gown, pal.'
Foote broke in to relieve the president. Chapman's directness didn't make her happy. 'Alex, for the moment, since Lola had personal contact with you, can't we just discuss this one-on-one? The police don't have to be included until we get official word that this wasn't an accident. After all, that's our understanding of the findings at her apartment last night.'
Chapman got up and walked to the phone on Foote's desk. 'Mind if I call the morgue? I'd hate to waste your time if the docs can step away from the table in the middle of sawing Lola in half to assure you this was only a slip and fall.'
Recantati's stunned gaze moved back and forth between Chapman's face and Foote's hand, which she had clamped over the telephone receiver. He seemed caught in the glare of the headlights and longing to be back in the library instead. 'Have you and Ms. Cooper worked together on this kind of thing before?'
Chapman laughed. 'Seventy years.'
Recantati's brow furrowed more deeply. 'But-?'
'I count 'em in dog years. Every one I spend with Coop feels like seven.'
Recantati was responding to Mike in a way Sylvia Foote never would, looking as though he hoped the police would help him out and take the entire matter off his hands. 'So, what is it you need from us?'
Foote cleared her throat. 'Not that we can promise you anything before the middle of next week. We've got to clear this administratively.'
'How about a command decision, Mr. President.' Chapman ignored Foote completely and spoke only to Recantati. 'Next week's gonna be too late. I'd like to get into Ms. Dakota's office this weekend, start checking her files, her correspondence, her computer records. I'd like to find out who knew her best, which students were in her classes, what faculty members worked with her, who liked her and hated her, who slept with her…'
Recantati's face reddened at the mere thought, it seemed, that we would be exploring such intimate aspects of Dakota's life. He was silent.
'We could walk right over to her office now, with both of you. That way you can make sure that Ms. Cooper and I don't do anything to cause trouble here.'
Time to soften the approach while we had him on the line.
'You understand, sir, that not everything Detective Chapman is talking about may be necessary,' I said. 'It's entirely possible that Lola's death will prove to be related to her husband's efforts to get rid of her, and not to the campus community at all. We're exploring that angle first, of course. Nobody wants to involve the school or the kids, except as a last resort.'
Foote was harder to fool. 'Suppose I can gather together some of the political science faculty for you on Monday morning. We'll make the library available to you for interviews, so our staff members don't have to be carted downtown. Then we'll move on to talk with the students, but only if we must.'
Not a bad compromise. 'I've got to be in court for a hearing at nine-thirty on Monday. So if we can say two o'clock for you to have some people lined up, that will give you the morning to contact whoever you haven't been able to reach over the weekend. Shall we take a look at Lola's office while we're here?'
Foote buzzed the secretary and asked her to have the head of security bring the passkey up to us as quickly as possible. Within minutes, Frankie Shayson knocked on the door and came into the room. 'Hey, Mike. Alex. Haven't seen either of you guys since that racket they threw when me and Harry left the job. Never dull, is it?' The former detective from the two-six squad, the neighborhood precinct, crossed the room and grabbed Chapman's hand as he greeted us warmly. 'Want me to take 'em upstairs, Ms. Foote?'
She was obviously unhappy that we had an independent connection to the college, and she wasn't about to let him take us to Dakota's office alone. 'If you give me the key, I'll return it to you later today.' She reached out her hand to take the ring from Shayson, motioning to Recantati to come along.
The three of us marched down the hallway behind Sylvia Foote and up two flights of stairs to a turreted corner office. On the wall next to the door, instead of a nameplate, there was an ink and pen drawing, two inches by three inches, of a small piece of the U.S. map, with the word badlands written in the middle. The Badlands of
