[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
department."
Confidential informants CIs were a staple of narcotics investigations. Fillian
had been hammered by the judge at his sentence, as we requested, and had been
trying everything possible to reduce the time he spent in jail. I hoped no
power on earth could
speed his release.
"Hard to be useful to cops with current street news when you're as far north
as Dannemora." He was incarcerated just miles away from the Canadian border.
"Some of the kids he ran with still keep in touch with him. He thinks he's in
the know. Anyway, he's been telling me that one of the King's College
professors has been selling drugs to the students a regular candy shop. You
ask for it, the prof's got it." "Who is it? What's the guy's name?" Chapman
asked. "I don't have a name for you. There was no point in my asking him for
the information, since I couldn't do anything with it professionally, and it
has nothing to do with the treatment program. David was just complaining to me
that nobody in the correction department seemed to be interested in the fact.
I see from the papers that you've got this murder case, and also that one of
the students with shall we say, an alternative lifestyle? disappeared last
spring."
"How often do you see Fillian?"
"I'm not due to see him again until the end of January. I spend one week a
month traveling around to the maximum-security jails, supervising the sex
offender groups. I thought that if, perhaps, David had some valuable
information to help you on the King's College cases, you could support his
request for an early release to parole."
It was my devout wish that Fillian's parole officer had not yet been born. And
I doubted that an occasional session, up close and personal, exchanging
techniques with other convicted rapists had "cured" him of his habits. I was
anxious to dismiss Hoppins and get on to our more immediate work. "We'll see
if we can get him produced at a prison downstate to interview him. If he
doesn't have any more details than this, he won't be much use to us."
We thanked her and walked away. I'm sure she detected the chill in my voice,
as I questioned the sincerity of her patient's bona fides.
Joe Roman was waiting for us when we reached my office. "You still have that
photo of the Denzig girl?" he asked.
"Sure. It's attached to her folder, on my desk."
"Talk about archaeological digs," Mike said, shaking Joe's hand. "That's what
the pile on your desk looks like."
I flipped through the manila case jackets till I found Shirley Denzig's file.
"What did you learn from the Baltimore cops?"
"That her papa has a licensed handgun. Kept it in a locked storage box in his
garage. Sometime during the week he noticed it had been taken, so he reported
it to the local detectives. I'm going to have copies of this photo made to
give to Security downstairs here and to keep with the doormen at your
building. Bad news is, she finally was evicted from her apartment. Captain's
going to let Frankie and me work on it. See if we can find her and tell her
what a lovely person you really are."
"Remember that Shirley's not wrong about herself. She doesn't look that good
anymore. Tell them to add seventy or eighty pounds to that image, okay?"
"You're doing something wrong, Alex. It's supposed to be the bad guys who are
after us, not the victims," Joe said, shaking his finger at me as he walked
Page 49
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
out of the room.
"Wanna fill me in?" Mike asked.
"I'll tell you later. Just an old complainant resurfacing when I need her
least."
I dialed Ryan Blackmer's number. I needed more information about the assault
near Washington Square Park. "Hey, I wanted to catch you before I go up to the
college. Did your NYU graduate student show up for her interview?"
"Not only did she come in, but she recanted the entire story. Hope it's okay
with you, but I locked her up. Filing a false report." "What's the deal?"
"The girl was frantic when she got here. She had made the whole thing up. Her
last exam was supposed to be this morning, and she had two major papers due
before the winter recess. She just couldn't cope, so she figured if she told
the dean she'd been accosted on the street and was too traumatized to finish
the semester, she wouldn't flunk the courses. They'd let her make up the work
in January."
"And for that she identified somebody out of the blue and actually had him
locked in jail overnight?" The fabricated reports of assault were the most
pernicious actions I could imagine women taking.
"Yeah. Claims she never expected the police to take her seriously, and by the
time they had driven around for almost an hour, she felt like she owed it to
them to pick out somebody." "How's the poor guy doing?"
"I released him without bail the other night. The cops thought she was flaky
from the get-go, and they called his employer, who backed him one hundred
percent. Did I do the right thing by having her arrested?"
"You always do the right thing. See you later." Laura buzzed me on the
intercom. "There's someone named Gloria Reitman on the phone. Says to tell you
she knew Professor Dakota, and she's supposed to meet with you at school."
"This is Alexandra Cooper. Ms. Reitman?" "Thanks for taking my call. Ms. Foote
asked me to talk to you. I was just wondering if you'd mind meeting with me at
the law school building, over at Columbia? I'm a first-year there. But I knew
Professor Dakota. I'd just be more comfortable alone, not being asked
questions in front of all the administrative types at King's. Can you do
that?"
"No problem. We were supposed to be in Ms. Foote's office at two."
"If you come a little earlier, I can meet you at one-thirty. I'll be in the
Drapkin Lounge. We can talk privately there."
The scene on College Walk was a lot calmer now than it had been last week. The
campus seemed almost deserted, emptied of the students who had moved so
briskly down the library steps and between buildings the last time we were
here. Mike and I entered the law school and asked the guard for the meeting
room that had been named, undoubtedly, in honor of some fat-cat generous
alumnus.
Gloria walked toward us and introduced herself. "We've actually met before.
Not that I expect you to remember, but I heard you speak at the public service
lecture you did here last year." She smiled at Mike as she shook his hand,
then looked back at me, blushing slightly with embarrassment. Brunette
ringlets framed her narrow face. "The reason I came to law school is because
I've always wanted to be a prosecutor. In your office."
She had arranged some chairs in a corner of the room, and we sat together to
talk. "The dean went through the lists of Professor Dakota's classes from the
last two years and picked a few of us to talk to you. Of course, lots of the
students have already gone home. I don't know how many are still here."
Gloria took a deep breath, apparently having difficulty saying what came next.
"The easiest way for me to start off is to tell you straight out that I hated [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
department."
Confidential informants CIs were a staple of narcotics investigations. Fillian
had been hammered by the judge at his sentence, as we requested, and had been
trying everything possible to reduce the time he spent in jail. I hoped no
power on earth could
speed his release.
"Hard to be useful to cops with current street news when you're as far north
as Dannemora." He was incarcerated just miles away from the Canadian border.
"Some of the kids he ran with still keep in touch with him. He thinks he's in
the know. Anyway, he's been telling me that one of the King's College
professors has been selling drugs to the students a regular candy shop. You
ask for it, the prof's got it." "Who is it? What's the guy's name?" Chapman
asked. "I don't have a name for you. There was no point in my asking him for
the information, since I couldn't do anything with it professionally, and it
has nothing to do with the treatment program. David was just complaining to me
that nobody in the correction department seemed to be interested in the fact.
I see from the papers that you've got this murder case, and also that one of
the students with shall we say, an alternative lifestyle? disappeared last
spring."
"How often do you see Fillian?"
"I'm not due to see him again until the end of January. I spend one week a
month traveling around to the maximum-security jails, supervising the sex
offender groups. I thought that if, perhaps, David had some valuable
information to help you on the King's College cases, you could support his
request for an early release to parole."
It was my devout wish that Fillian's parole officer had not yet been born. And
I doubted that an occasional session, up close and personal, exchanging
techniques with other convicted rapists had "cured" him of his habits. I was
anxious to dismiss Hoppins and get on to our more immediate work. "We'll see
if we can get him produced at a prison downstate to interview him. If he
doesn't have any more details than this, he won't be much use to us."
We thanked her and walked away. I'm sure she detected the chill in my voice,
as I questioned the sincerity of her patient's bona fides.
Joe Roman was waiting for us when we reached my office. "You still have that
photo of the Denzig girl?" he asked.
"Sure. It's attached to her folder, on my desk."
"Talk about archaeological digs," Mike said, shaking Joe's hand. "That's what
the pile on your desk looks like."
I flipped through the manila case jackets till I found Shirley Denzig's file.
"What did you learn from the Baltimore cops?"
"That her papa has a licensed handgun. Kept it in a locked storage box in his
garage. Sometime during the week he noticed it had been taken, so he reported
it to the local detectives. I'm going to have copies of this photo made to
give to Security downstairs here and to keep with the doormen at your
building. Bad news is, she finally was evicted from her apartment. Captain's
going to let Frankie and me work on it. See if we can find her and tell her
what a lovely person you really are."
"Remember that Shirley's not wrong about herself. She doesn't look that good
anymore. Tell them to add seventy or eighty pounds to that image, okay?"
"You're doing something wrong, Alex. It's supposed to be the bad guys who are
after us, not the victims," Joe said, shaking his finger at me as he walked
Page 49
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
out of the room.
"Wanna fill me in?" Mike asked.
"I'll tell you later. Just an old complainant resurfacing when I need her
least."
I dialed Ryan Blackmer's number. I needed more information about the assault
near Washington Square Park. "Hey, I wanted to catch you before I go up to the
college. Did your NYU graduate student show up for her interview?"
"Not only did she come in, but she recanted the entire story. Hope it's okay
with you, but I locked her up. Filing a false report." "What's the deal?"
"The girl was frantic when she got here. She had made the whole thing up. Her
last exam was supposed to be this morning, and she had two major papers due
before the winter recess. She just couldn't cope, so she figured if she told
the dean she'd been accosted on the street and was too traumatized to finish
the semester, she wouldn't flunk the courses. They'd let her make up the work
in January."
"And for that she identified somebody out of the blue and actually had him
locked in jail overnight?" The fabricated reports of assault were the most
pernicious actions I could imagine women taking.
"Yeah. Claims she never expected the police to take her seriously, and by the
time they had driven around for almost an hour, she felt like she owed it to
them to pick out somebody." "How's the poor guy doing?"
"I released him without bail the other night. The cops thought she was flaky
from the get-go, and they called his employer, who backed him one hundred
percent. Did I do the right thing by having her arrested?"
"You always do the right thing. See you later." Laura buzzed me on the
intercom. "There's someone named Gloria Reitman on the phone. Says to tell you
she knew Professor Dakota, and she's supposed to meet with you at school."
"This is Alexandra Cooper. Ms. Reitman?" "Thanks for taking my call. Ms. Foote
asked me to talk to you. I was just wondering if you'd mind meeting with me at
the law school building, over at Columbia? I'm a first-year there. But I knew
Professor Dakota. I'd just be more comfortable alone, not being asked
questions in front of all the administrative types at King's. Can you do
that?"
"No problem. We were supposed to be in Ms. Foote's office at two."
"If you come a little earlier, I can meet you at one-thirty. I'll be in the
Drapkin Lounge. We can talk privately there."
The scene on College Walk was a lot calmer now than it had been last week. The
campus seemed almost deserted, emptied of the students who had moved so
briskly down the library steps and between buildings the last time we were
here. Mike and I entered the law school and asked the guard for the meeting
room that had been named, undoubtedly, in honor of some fat-cat generous
alumnus.
Gloria walked toward us and introduced herself. "We've actually met before.
Not that I expect you to remember, but I heard you speak at the public service
lecture you did here last year." She smiled at Mike as she shook his hand,
then looked back at me, blushing slightly with embarrassment. Brunette
ringlets framed her narrow face. "The reason I came to law school is because
I've always wanted to be a prosecutor. In your office."
She had arranged some chairs in a corner of the room, and we sat together to
talk. "The dean went through the lists of Professor Dakota's classes from the
last two years and picked a few of us to talk to you. Of course, lots of the
students have already gone home. I don't know how many are still here."
Gloria took a deep breath, apparently having difficulty saying what came next.
"The easiest way for me to start off is to tell you straight out that I hated [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]