Eyelids raised, brows furrowed. I didn't know what Mike was digging for, but I was certain that this message was designed to get back to Lavery as soon as the meeting broke up. Stirring the pot, the lieutenant liked to call it. Seeing whether anyone could be flushed out or who would turn against whom.
"I thought from the outset that it was strange that Claude didn't report hearing any noise, living directly upstairs from Lola." Thomas Grenier wanted to get that off his chest. Nan Rothschild frowned, and I inferred from her expression that she disapproved of his candor.
"I'm a bit surprised, actually," said Shreve. "I don't know why Lavery said that to you. The morning after Lola's death-before he left for vacation-I called Claude to talk about her, about how sad it was. I sort of assumed he'd know more details, being a neighbor and all that. I know he told me that he had gone up in the elevator with her that same day. I'm positive about that. Maybe we can speak with him-"
"That's my job, Professor. I'd appreciate it if you let me do the interviews."
"If your question, Mr. Chapman, is whether Lavery faced administrative action of any other kind, then the answer is no. We'd leave that portion of the case up to you."
"You want to tell us, Mr. Lockhart, what you learned from your grandfather this morning, when you went there to ask him about Freeland Jennings's legacy? You find anything in the attic?"
The young instructor blushed as his colleagues all turned to follow Mike's jab. "I, uh, I had forgotten all about that model until Sylvia's message. Of course I tried to see if it was still at the house. Obviously, I would have brought it back here to the meeting. That's what Miss Cooper wanted to know about, wasn't it?
"I'm planning to drive back up to White Plains after this meeting. Sit down and try to have a lucid conversation with my grandfather, if you all think that would help." Skip Lockhart looked at the faces around the table.
"Maybe Ms. Foote told you, buddy. We're going to keep you company." Mike circled his hand in the air, drawing the group in the room into an imaginary ring.
"I'm game," Shreve said. "We're all interested in this, Skip."
"Well, we can't just pile in on him. The excitement would be too much." Lockhart fidgeted in his chair.
"We don't all have to talk to him at once," Shreve went on. "The detective and you can do the interview. We can wait in another room, so we can brainstorm if he remembers anything. After all, we've got a pretty good collective knowledge of Lola and her habits."
The phone rang and Sylvia answered it. "Just a minute. I'll have him pick up an extension." She motioned to Mike, who stepped out of the room.
"I don't think I need to go," Recantati said. "None of this has anything to do with me."
"Well then, Sylvia," Shreve said, "you can ride up in my car if you like. I've always wanted to meet your grandfather, Skip. Lola told me about his fascinating stories. I assume Miss Cooper and the detective will go together?"
"Yes, we'll meet you there."
Skip seemed reluctant. He had little choice but to offer to drive Nan Rothschild and Thomas Grenier with him.
The door opened and Mike waved me out to the secretary's anteroom. "You mind grabbing a ride with one of them and trying to charm the pants off Grandpa?"
I started to ask him why but turned my head as I noticed that both Winston Shreve and Skip Lockhart had followed me out, looking for paper on the desk behind me to write directions.
"Listen up, blondie. You put the Rand McNally in a safe place, right?"
I was distracted again as Lockhart dropped his pen on the floor. "What?"
"The map."
I nodded that I had.
He looked at his watch and noted that it was almost three o'clock. "I can be in White Plains in an hour. I just got to swing over the bridge to Newark and take a peek in the Hertz parking lot by the airport."
The two professors reentered Sylvia Foote's office.
"How come?"
I was pleased to see his trademark grin. "Tony Parisi called. He's working round the clock on Bart Frankel's unexpected demise. Found out that one of the private investigators Ivan Kralovic had been using on Lola the last year may have a connection to Saturday morning's 'accident.'"
"What kind of connection?"
"A very direct one, apparently. Enough to make Parisi tell me the Jersey prosecutors think they can put the cuffs on Ivan the Terrible and lock him up before he has to shovel the snow out of his driveway tomorrow. Looks like the PI rented a van at the airport on Friday and brought it back in yesterday afternoon, claiming he'd had a fender bender on the turnpike."
"Any damage?"
"There's a big dent on the right front fender and it's covered with chipped paint and what looks like blood, so he's having it tested. Wants you to check the jerk's bank account for deposits from Kralovic when you get a free minute. And he wants me to eyeball it before they haul it off for repair."
31
I returned to Sylvia's office as the group was breaking up. "Mike has to make a slight detour," I explained to the academics. "Another case. He'll meet us in White Plains, if I can ride with you and Professor Shreve."
Sylvia deferred to Shreve, who confirmed that he had plenty of room. Nan was calling her husband to explain why she would not be back in the city until six or seven this evening as Sylvia and I walked down the hall to use the rest room.
On our way back, I noticed the lanky figure of a young man silhouetted against the wall beyond her door. "Efrem?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Alex, this is the young man I told you about, Efrem Zavislan.
He's one of Lola's brightest students. He called Nan this morning to ask her a question about the dig, and when I learned he was still in town, I thought you might want to meet him. Lola entrusted her most important research projects to Efrem. Everything all right? Any reason you didn't go home to Colorado for the break?"
"My folks came east to see my grandparents, so we're all in town. Miss Foote said you might have questions about Professor Dakota that I can answer," he said, turning to me.
Skip Lockhart came out of Sylvia's office with Winston Shreve, each buttoning his coat and lifting his collar against the brewing storm outside. "What's up, Efrem?"
"Nothing, Professor Lockhart. Just wanted to see if there was any progress in finding the guy who killed Professor Dakota."
"You're not working out on the island in this weather, are you?" asked Shreve.
"All closed down for a few weeks. Most of us weren't in the mood anyway."
"We'll be back in a few minutes with the cars. I'm parked in the garage over on Broadway. Sylvia, can I bring you a cup of coffee for the road? Miss Cooper?"
"Thank you, Winston," Sylvia answered. "How about some hot chocolate for me? Extra milk, if you would. Alex, coffee?"
"I've had enough caffeine to keep me wired for weeks. Chocolate sounds good."
I waited for the men to walk away before stepping aside with Efrem. "Do you mind, Sylvia, if I just have a few minutes with him?"
I led the student around the corner for a bit of privacy. Although I guessed he was not more than twenty years old, he towered over me, and seemed possessed of a maturity that most of the others I had met these past ten days lacked. He was eager to talk about Dakota, clearly sharing her passion for scholarship, and for the Blackwells project.
"Do you know anything about the miniature model of the island that one of the prisoners built for Freeland Jennings when he was in the penitentiary?"
Efrem's hands came out of his jeans pockets and he began to speak with great animation. "Have you seen it? It's amazing."
I wanted to keep our voices down. No need to alert the others that this kid might actually know the whereabouts of the mysterious piece. "No. But the police and I are quite interested in taking a look at it. Do you know where it is now?"