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The Dead-House (Alexandra Cooper Series #4)

The Dead-House (Alexandra Cooper Series #4)

3.9 34
by Linda Fairstein

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Assistant D.A. Alexandra Cooper is back — in this page-turning New York Times bestseller from legendary Manhattan sex-crimes prosecutor Linda Fairstein.
On Roosevelt Island, a strip of land in New York City's East River, stands an abandoned 19th century smallpox asylum, "The Deadhouse," where the afflicted were shipped off to die. It's a gruesome


Assistant D.A. Alexandra Cooper is back — in this page-turning New York Times bestseller from legendary Manhattan sex-crimes prosecutor Linda Fairstein.
On Roosevelt Island, a strip of land in New York City's East River, stands an abandoned 19th century smallpox asylum, "The Deadhouse," where the afflicted were shipped off to die. It's a gruesome bit of history perhaps best forgotten. But for Alexandra Cooper, it may be the key to a shocking murder that cuts deeper than the arctic cold front gripping the city. A respected university professor is dead — strangled and dumped in an elevator shaft. And while the school does damage control for anxious parents, Cooper and her close detective friend Mike Chapman scramble for answers, fueled by the most daunting discovery: a piece of paper, found on the lifeless body of Professor Lola Dakota, that reads The Deadhouse....

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
Los Angeles Times One of the best of the year...a beguiling mix of murder, romance, and suspense....Fascinating.

USA Today A four-star tribute to good writing, strong characters, and the ability to translate expertise into a terrific story.

The Washington Post SuperbŠ.The Deadhouse allows Fairstein to display her firsthand knowledge of crime and investigation.

It's almost Christmas in New York City, but the season is far from jolly for Assistant D.A. Alexandra Cooper after Lola Dakota, an illustrious political science professor from King's College, is found dead at the bottom of an elevator shaft. All Alexandra has to go on are a few strands of hair and a piece of paper bearing the words "The Deadhouse." The only link to foul play is a photo Alexandra finds in Lola's office of a student who disappeared more than eight months ago. And what do they both have to do with the Deadhouse, the notorious Roosevelt Island site where smallpox patients went to die in the 19th century?
Washington Post Book World
The brooding quality of the setting, the storm-toss'd, struggle-to-the-death finale is superb.
Publishers Weekly
When archeologist Lola Dakota is found dead at the bottom of an elevator shaft in her apartment building on Manhattan's Upper West Side, assistant D.A. Alexandra Cooper takes on one of her darkest cases yet in this compelling mystery from bestseller Fairstein (Final Jeopardy). Alexandra, aided by homicide detective Mike Chapman, must sift through the testimonies of Dakota's close-mouthed colleagues at small, experimental King's College. Despite bitter December weather, the professor was engaged in an archaeological dig on the city's Roosevelt Island for clues about the criminals and mental patients shipped there a hundred years ago and left to die. Cooper, who had been working with Dakota to apprehend her abusive husband, now reaches out to Lola's resistant family and legal counsel in New Jersey, where she has been hiding out. And what of Charlotte Voight, a young woman who disappeared several months ago? The city is ablaze with holiday lights and cheer, Mike is acting peculiarly, team member Mercer Wallace injured in Final Jeopardy rejoins them late in the game, and Alex and new love Jake, a news correspondent, might be breaking up. Fairstein weaves present and past woes to good effect, while her focus on Roosevelt Island will intrigue New Yorkers who know little about its shameful former uses. A somewhat abrupt resolution, as well as a few loose strands, will leave the reader eager for a later date with the D.A. (Oct. 2) Forecast: Several factors will recommend this book to a broad audience: Manhattan D.A. Fairstein bears the mark of authenticity; all three previous titles in the series were bestsellers; and Linda Fairstein's Final Jeopardy was an ABC-TV Movie of the Week in April. Asix-city author tour and two floor displays will further boost sales. Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.
Kirkus Reviews
Brilliant political science professor Lola Dakota's abusive spouse Ivan Kralovic has threatened to kill her, so when she winds up murdered it's a fair assumption he's the perp. But then District Attorney Alexandra Cooper (Cold Hit), in charge of New York City's Sex Crimes Unit, hears of the note found in Lola's pocket and halts the rush to judgment. "The deadhouse" is all the note says, but Alex intuits a complication. Over the past two years, during which she helped keep Lola safe from Ivan's tender mercies, she's gained insights into a secretive, complex nature and, smart cookie that she is, decides to widen the net. The fact is, stormy petrel Lola had a variety of enemies (on the King's College faculty, for instance) no less dedicated than her oafish husband. Still, it's "the deadhouse" that really resonates. Soon enough, Alex learns of the dark history of New York's Roosevelt Island, which in the 19th century was a macabre terminus to which smallpox sufferers were regularly packed off to die in one of the out-buildings: the deadhouse. Lola's interest in the place was not unrivaled, since things more enticing than old skeletons (baubles costly and glittery, anyone?) might well have been buried there. When Assistant D.A Fairstein (head of Manhattan's Sex Crimes Unit) has Assistant D.A. Cooper going about her daily prosecutorial chores, the result is authoritative and interesting-unlike, say, when the whodunit is dragged out, and the gooey love affair dragged in.

Product Details

Pocket Books
Publication date:
Alexandra Cooper Series , #4
Sales rank:
Product dimensions:
6.78(w) x 4.24(h) x 1.19(d)

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

It was hard not to smile as I watched Lola Dakota die.

I clicked the remote control button and listened to the commentary again on another network.

"New Jersey police officers have released a portion of these dramatic videotapes to the media this evening. We're going to play for you the actual recordings the three hit men hired by her husband to kill Ms. Dakota made to prove to him that they had accomplished their mission."

The local reporter was posed in front of a large mansion in the town of Summit, less than an hour's drive from where I was sitting, in the video technicians' office of the New York County District Attorney. Snowflakes drifted and swirled around her head as she pointed a gloved hand at the darkened facade of a house ringed with strands of tiny white Christmas lights that outlined the roof, the windows, and the enormous wreath on the front door.

"Earlier this afternoon, before the sun went down, Hugh," the woman addressed the news channel's anchorman, "those of us who gathered here for word of Ms. Dakota's condition could see pools of blood, left in the snow during the early morning shooting. It will be a grim holiday season for this forty-two-year-old university professor's family. Let's take you back over the story that led to this morning's tragic events."

Mike Chapman grabbed the clicker from my hand and pressed the mute button, then jabbed at my back with it. "How come the Jersey prosecutors got to do this caper? Too big for you to handle, blondie?"

As the bureau chief in charge of sex crimes for the New York County District Attorney's Office for more than a decade, sexual assault cases — as well as domestic violence and stalking crimes — fell under my jurisdiction. The district attorney, Paul Battaglia, ran an office with a legal staff of more than six hundred lawyers, but he had taken a particular interest in the investigation of the professor's perilous marital entanglement.

"Battaglia didn't like the whole idea — the risk, the melodrama, and...well, the emotional instability of Lola Dakota. He probably didn't know the story would look this good on the late news broadcast or he might have reconsidered."

Chapman lifted his foot to the edge of my chair and swiveled it around so that I faced him. "Had you worked with Lola for a long time?"

"I guess it's been almost two years since the first day I met her. Someone called Battaglia from the president's office at Columbia University. Said there was a matter that needed to be handled discreetly." I reached for a cup of coffee. "One of their professors had split from her husband, and he was stalking her. The usual domestic. She didn't want to have him arrested, didn't want any publicity that would embarrass the administration — just wanted him to leave her alone. The DA kicked it over to me to try to make it happen. That's how I met Lola Dakota. And became aware of her miserable husband."

"What'd you do for her?"

Chapman worked homicides, most of the time relying on sophisticated forensic technology and reliable medical evidence to solve his cases. He rarely dealt with breathing witnesses, and although he was the best detective in the Manhattan North Squad when he came face-to-face with a corpse, Chapman was always intrigued by how the rest of us in law enforcement managed to untangle and resolve the delicate problems of the living.

"Met with her several times, trying to convince her that we could make a prosecution stick and gain her trust to let me bring charges. I explained that filing a criminal complaint was the only way I could get a judge to put some muscle behind our actions." Lola was like most of our victims. She wanted the violence to stop, but she did not want to face her spouse in a court of law.

"It worked?"

"No better than usual. When reasoning with her failed, we relocated her to a temporary apartment, arranged for counseling, and sent a couple of our detectives to talk to her husband informally and explain that Lola was giving him a break."

"Happy to see the local constables, was he?"

"Elated. They told him that she didn't want us to lock him up, but if he kept harassing her, that wasn't a choice I would allow her to make the next time he darkened her doorway. So he behaved...for a while."

"Until she moved back in with him?"

"Right. Just in time for Valentine's Day."

"Hearts and flowers, happily ever after?"

"Eight months." I turned back to glance at the screen, motioning to Mike to give us sound again. Flakes were caking up on the reporter's eyelids as she continued to tell her story, reminding me that undoubtedly snow was piling up on my Jeep as well, which was parked in front of the building. A picture of Ivan Kralovic, Lola's husband, appeared as an insert on the bottom right corner of the screen.

"We've got to take a short break," the reporter said, repeating the euphemistic phrase that signaled a commercial interruption, "then we'll show you the dramatic footage that led to Mr. Kralovic's arrest today."

Mike got rid of the noise. "And at the end of those eight months, what happened? Did you lock him up the second time?"

"No. She wouldn't even give me a clue about what he had done. Called me that October to ask how to get an order of protection. After I greased the wheels to expedite it for her in family court, she told me she had rented an apartment on Riverside Drive, moved to a new office away from the campus, and settled her problems with Ivan the Terrible."

"Don't disappoint me, Coop. Tell me he lived up to his name."

"Predictably. It was in January of this year that he cut her with a corkscrew, while they were enjoying a quiet dinner for two. Must have mistaken her for a good Burgundy. Sliced open her forearm. He raced her to St. Luke's and it took twenty-seven stitches to close her up."

"They were together for just that one evening?"

"No, he had coaxed her back for the holidays a month earlier. A seasonal reconciliation."

Chapman shook his head. "Yeah, I guess most accidents happen close to home. You nail his ass for that one?"

"Once again, Lola refused to prosecute. Told the doctors in the ER — while Ivan was standing at her bedside — that she'd done it herself. By the time I heard about it through the university and got her down to my office, she was completely uncooperative. Said that if I had Ivan locked up, she would never tell the true story in a courtroom. She had learned her lesson by trying to reunite with him, she assured me, and wasn't going to have anything further to do with him."

"Guess he didn't get the picture."

"He stalked Lola on and off. That's what led her to hide out in New Jersey, at her sister's house, sometime in the spring. She called me every now and then, after Ivan threatened her or when she thought she was being followed. But her sister got spooked — worried about her own safety — and brought Lola to the local prosecutors over there."

"Let's go to the videotape," Mike said, spinning my chair back to the television screen and hitting the sound button on the clicker. The film was rolling and the reporter's voice-over was providing the narrative. The scene appeared to be the same large suburban house, earlier in the day.

"...and you can see the white delivery van parked at the side of the road. The two men walked up the steps in front of the home, which is owned by Ms. Dakota's sister, carrying the cases of wine. When the professor opened the door and came outside to accept the gift bottles, both men put their packages on the ground. The one on the left presented a receipt that Dakota leaned over to sign, while the man on the right — there he goes now — pulled a revolver from beneath his jacket and fired five times, at point-blank range."

I leaned forward and watched again as Lola clutched at her chest, her body pushed backward by the force of the impact. Her eyes opened wide for an instant, seeming to stare directly at the lens of the camera, before they closed, as she fell to the ground, blood oozing from her clothing onto the clean white cover provided by the preceding day's dusting of snow.

Then, the camera, held by a third accomplice in the van, zoomed in for a close-up, and the man seemed to lose control of the equipment as it apparently dropped from his fingers.

"When the killers played their tape for Ivan Kralovic in his office at noon today, after the Summit Police Department released the news of Ms. Dakota's death to the wire services, they were rewarded with a payment of one hundred thousand dollars in cash."

Back to a live shot of the chilled reporter, wrapping up her story for the night. "Unfortunately for Kralovic, the gunmen he had hired to kill his estranged wife were actually undercover detectives from the county sheriff's office here in New Jersey, who staged the shooting with the enthusiastic participation of the intended victim."

The tape rolled again and showed the supposedly deceased Dakota now sitting upright against the front door of the house and smiling for the camera as she removed the outer jacket that had concealed the packets of "blood" that had spurted and flowed so convincingly moments before.

"We've been waiting here, Hugh, hoping this brave woman would tell us how she feels now that she has taken such dramatic steps to end years of spousal abuse and bring to justice the man who wanted to kill her. But sources tell us that she left the house here this afternoon, after Kralovic's arrest, and has not yet returned." The reporter glanced down at her notes to read a comment from the local prosecutor. "The district attorney, however, wants us to express his gratitude to the county sheriff for this 'innovative plan that put an end to Ivan's reign of terror, something that prosecutors from Paul Battaglia's office and the New York Police Department across the Hudson River have been unable to do for two years.' Back to the studio — "

I pulled the remote away from Chapman and slammed it onto the desktop after shutting off the set. "Let's go back to my office and close up for the night."

"Temper, temper, Ms. Cooper. Dakota's not likely to win the Oscar for her performance. You peeved 'cause you didn't get a chance to do the film direction?"

I turned off the light and closed the door behind us. "I don't begrudge her anything. But why did the Jersey DA have to take a shot at us? He knows it hasn't been our choice to let this thing drag on as long as it did." There wasn't a seasoned prosecutor anywhere who didn't know that the most frustrating dynamic in an abusive marriage was the love-hate relationship that persisted between victim and offender, even after the violence escalated.

My heels clicked on the tiles of the quiet corridor as we snaked our way down the long, dark hallway from Video to my eighth-floor office. It was almost eleven-thirty at night, and the tapping of an occasional computer keyboard was the only noise I heard to suggest that any of my colleagues were still at their desks.

Only a handful of cases went to trial this time of year, in the middle of December, with lawyers, judges, and jurors all anticipating the two-week court hiatus for the holiday season. I had been working late — reviewing indictments for the end-of-the-term filing deadline, and preparing to conduct a sex offender registration hearing after the weekend — when Detective Michael Chapman came over to tell me the eleven o'clock news was leading with the Dakota story. He had been down the street at headquarters to drop off some evidence at the Property Clerk's Office and called to see if I wanted a drink before knocking off for the night.

"C'mon, I'll buy you dinner," he now said. "Can't expect me to last the midnight shift on an empty stomach. Not with all the dead bodies I'm likely to encounter."

"It's too late to eat."

"That means you got a better offer. Jake must be home, cooking up some exotic — "

"Wrong. He's in Washington. Got the assignment on that story of the ambassador who was assassinated in Uganda, at the economic conference." I'd been dating an NBC News correspondent since early summer, and the rare nights he was free in time for dinner took me away from my usual haunts and habits.

"How come they keep giving him all that Third World stuff to cover when he seems like such a First World guy?"

The phone was ringing as I opened the door to my office.

"Alex?" Jake's voice sounded brusque and businesslike. "I'm at the NBC studio in D.C."

"How's your story coming?"

"Lola Dakota is dead."

"I know," I said, sitting down in my chair and turning away from Chapman for some privacy. "Mike and I just watched the whole bit on the local news. I think she's got a real future on the stage. Hard to believe she went for all that phony ketchup and — "

"Listen to me, Alex. She was killed tonight."

I turned back to look at Mike, rolling my eyes to suggest that Jake clearly had not seen the entire story yet and didn't understand that the shooting was a setup. "We know all that, and we also know that Paul Battaglia is not going to be thrilled when the tabloids point the finger at me for not putting this mess to bed a couple of — "

"This isn't about you, Alex. I've heard the whole story with the Jersey prosecutors and their sting operation. But there's a later headline that just came over the newsroom wires a few minutes ago, probably while you and Mike were watching the story run on the air. Some kids found Lola Dakota's body tonight — her dead body — in the basement of an apartment building in Manhattan, crushed to death at the bottom of an elevator shaft."

My eyes shut tight and I rested my head on the back of my chair as Jake lowered his voice to make his point. "Trust me, darling. Lola Dakota is dead."

Copyright © 2001 by Linda Fairstein

Meet the Author

Linda Fairstein was chief of the Sex Crimes Unit of the district attorney’s office in Manhattan for more than two decades and is America’s foremost legal expert on sexual assault and domestic violence. Her Alexandra Cooper novels are international bestsellers and have been translated into more than a dozen languages. She lives in Manhattan and on Martha’s Vineyard.

Brief Biography

New York, New York and Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts
Date of Birth:
May 5, 1947
Place of Birth:
Mount Vernon, New York
B.A., Vassar College, 1969; J.D., University of Virginia School of Law, 1972

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Dead-House (Alexandra Cooper Series #4) 3.9 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 35 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
If Miss Fairstein could just stick to a story her books would be alot better. She constantly throws in little stories within her novels that have nothing to do with the plot. I feel like instead of trying to entertain us with a book she's trying to teach us about sex crimes. She also introduces lots of characters that make one appearance and then never show up again.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I never usually write reviews but feel compelled to do so for this book. I have been reading the Alex Cooper series in order. Each book is mediocre at best and I keep hoping that as Fairstein develops as a writer the books will get better. I feel like this one is a step back. The premise and story line are promising from the beginning-but there really is no development. I will not spoil the ending, but I felt like the book became more about Alex than the murder and solving the crime. I could not believe how it just ended!!!!! It left me with so many more questions than answers. There were so many loose ends, unexplained events, and the reader is still left wondering about the murder.
passionateaboutbooks More than 1 year ago
I have liked all her books until I got to this one and I actually got 3/4 of the way through it and said enough is enough. I will continue on through the series because I have liked her first 3.
harstan More than 1 year ago
When Professor Lola Dakota finally had enough of her husband¿s abuse she agreed to work with the New Jersey District Attorney¿s office to put him behind bars. They set up a sting operation using undercover police officers masquerading as hitman. When they show Lola¿s husband Ivan on a videotape of them ¿killing¿ her, he pays them their fee. The police arrest him.

Unfortunately, later that day Lola¿s body is found in the elevator shaft of her Manhattan apartment building. The police declare it a homicide. Alex Cooper, New York¿s assistant district attorney is handling this homicide in conjunction with the police. With so many suspects and so little hard evidence, Alex has to work doubly hard to solve the case while avoid getting killed by some people who want to see her dead.

THE DEADHOUSE shows how the district attorney¿s office and the police department work closely together while trying to find the perpetrator of a homicide. Familiar characters from previous books in this series give the audience a feeling of being reunited with dear and cherished friends. Linda Fairstein is a talented writer who sets up a story line with so many twists and red herrings that the reader won¿t be able to rest until they find out who the culprit is.

Harriet Klausner

PierresFamily More than 1 year ago
As usual, Linda Fairstein delivers authenticity, suspense and characters with whom you become invested. With a decade-and-a-half of experience working in the Criminal Justice system in a DA office, I find her books to be extremely true-to-life. And as always, the reader learns historical tidbits that relate to the story. Like all of Fairstein's books, the story is a delight whose every detail should be savored, and I won't give away any spoilers. Suffice it to say that it's suspenseful and well-written.
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Miamilagro More than 1 year ago
another in the series of books featuring Alexandra Cooper, in a complicated and thought-provoking storyline. I highly recommend this book along with everything that this particular author has out!
PurplemoonSM More than 1 year ago
this is a fun series. murder ....DA ..detectives ...ballet....vineyards...trust fund character who works for a living
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Bronx_Chick More than 1 year ago
The Dead House was a good read. If you like murder mysteries this is a good choice I've read other Linda Fairstein novels and found them to be gripping. This is a good story but not as good as her others. I
TommyBoyNY More than 1 year ago
An interesting story with a lot of history about Roosevelt Island in New York City. It always kept me absorbed.
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