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the party when the cops stopped him.
    â€œYes, tell us,” a woman said.
    From the side of the room, Bob Moran called out, “You can’t keep us all in the dark,” an ironic comment from a guy who sold electric cars. His wife and his son were at his side.
    Babson appeared at the foot of the dais. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Why are there police here?”
    â€œI’m not at liberty to provide any details right now,” Tony announced to the crowd. “The quickest way to get out of here tonight is going to be to cooperate. All troublemakers will be isolated to be dealt with after the rest of the crowd is allowed to depart.”
    There was more grumbling, but at least no one challenged him. I stepped down from the dais and spoke to President Babson as the officers began forming an interview line. I explained what I had found, and that I had called the police.
    â€œYou should have tried to find me first,” he said. “I need to know what’s going on. And Joe. Why, he was one of my oldest friends.” He looked pale and shaken.
    â€œI thought my first priority had to be to call the police,” I said. “I did look around for you before I spoke to the crowd, but I couldn’t find you. I had to make sure that no one left before the police got here.”
    â€œThis changes everything,” he said, shaking his head. “My god. Joe.”
    Mike MacCormac approached us from the side of the ballroom, and Babson turned to him. “I need to speak to you, Mike. In my office, now. Steve, you stay here and try to keep the damage to a minimum.”
    He turned and stalked out, followed by Mike.
    I stood there, still in shock, thinking of Joe and trying to ignore the fact that this murder had happened at Eastern, where I was responsible for creating a good public image. At the door, several officers took names and addresses, and asked questions about what they had seen. All the reporters were clustered around Tony, badgering him for a statement, and I asked them to meet me in a corner of the ballroom. There were a half dozen of them, including Pascal Montrouge and a stringer for the Inquirer who lived in Leighville and occasionally sold a story to national magazines as well.
    â€œYou sure know how to throw a party, Steve,” Montrouge said. “This’ll make page one for sure. I’d like to speed up my timetable to come back up here with a photographer to take some pictures, get some background on the college. How’s tomorrow? Will you be available?” His eyes gleamed. “Everything related to the campaign, of course. Excellence for Eastern and all that.”
    â€œI doubt if I’ll be leaving on vacation, although I might want to.”
    â€œYou have a statement for us?” the stringer asked.
    â€œNot yet. I’m going to meet with President Babson in a few minutes. You all have Blackberries or smart phones, right?” Everyone nodded. “I’ll email a statement to you.”
    As a group, they turned to go back to Tony, and as they did, he caught my eye and said, “I want to talk to you. Don’t leave the campus without telling me.”
    I nodded, then slumped against a wall for a few minutes, trying to regroup. After a while, I took a couple of deep breaths and returned to my office.
    Rochester was waiting just inside the door for me, and he jumped up and put his paws on my thighs. As always, being with him made me feel better. I scratched behind his ears, and he lay down on the carpet. I got down next to him and rubbed his belly.
    Barbara and Jeremy appeared at the door of my office. “We cleaned up the registration table and brought you the name tags and lists, Mr. Levitan,” she said. “Are you OK?”
    â€œJust spending some quality time with Rochester,” I said, standing up. “Thanks for your help tonight.”
    â€œIt was fun,” she said. “That is, until Mr.