“The rich old farts served on the board in order to feel noble and to get their names in the social pages during gala season. To make matters worse, there’d been a bit of unpleasantness with the director—your Mr. Larner. I know all this from Evelyn Luria. She briefed me before she left for Europe, but wouldn’t give me details. But she did hint that it had been something of a sexual nature. Something that might’ve gotten the board members the worst type of publicity.”

“So the school was in danger of closing down, and the board wouldn’t go to bat.”

“God, I hope this doesn’t blow up, after all those years. I was looking at this job as a way to relax.”

“Nothing will get traced to you, Ms. Baldassar. Now tell me why the Cossacks aren’t popular.”

“Because they came to the rescue—white knights—and then turned into something quite different.”

“Caroline’s father?”

“Caroline’s father and brothers. The three of them had some kind of real estate business and they stepped in and renegotiated with the bank and got a better rate for the mortgage, then had Achievement House’s deed signed over to them. For a while, they made payments, no questions asked. Then a couple of years later, they announced they were evicting the school because the land was too valuable for a nonprofit, they’d been buying up lots, had plans to develop the entire block.”

She dropped her cigarette, ground it out with the toe of her pump.

“Achievement House is still here,” said Milo. “What happened?”

“Threats, accusations, lawyers. The board and the Cossacks finally reached an agreement, but it meant dipping into some deep pockets in order to pay the Cossacks off. From what I was told, the outrage was compounded by the fact that Caroline Cossack’s stay here had been a favor to the family. She didn’t qualify.”

“Why not?”

“She was a psychiatric case—severe behavior problems, not learning disabilities.”

“Custodial care?” I said.

“Yes, the rules were bent for her. Then, for her family to do that.”

Milo said, “Do you have any records on Caroline?”

Baldassar hesitated. “Let me check—wait out here, please.”

She reentered the building. I said, “I wonder if Michael Larner had something to do with the Cossacks trying to evict the school. After the board fired him, he wouldn’t have been fond of the institution.”

Milo kicked one of the Dumpsters. Another pigeon flew overhead. Then three more. “Airborne rats,” he muttered. Barely audible, but the vibrations must have reached the birds, and they scattered.

Marlene Baldassar returned, another cigarette in one hand, a pink index card in another.

“No chart, all I found was this, listing the dates of her stay.”

Milo took the card. “Admitted August 9, discharged December 22. But it doesn’t say where she went.”

“No it doesn’t,” said Baldassar.