The Theory of Death (32 page)

“Ferraga lifted the phrase for the fake suicide note from her breakup e-mail,” McAdams said. “That’s pretty simplistic for a guy of his intelligence.”

“Maybe it was the first thing he could think of for a faked suicide note.”

“Maybe, but it’s still pretty dumb.”

“Yes, it is,” Decker said. “It points the finger at him.”

“Or maybe someone else wanted that finger pointed at him.” McAdams leaned back and stretched. He looked at the clock. “Jesus, it’s quarter past two.”

“I don’t have that much more from this pile. I want to finish up.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

“I take notes while I read. I’d say another half hour or so. You can take the car and go home. I can walk.”

“I’ll wait. I have to file all this stuff anyway.” McAdams began to put the correspondence that he had gone over into dated folders. “So Belfort broke it off with Ferraga.”

Decker was reading and didn’t answer. The room was still for ten minutes, no sounds except for the hum of the heater, the ticking of the clock, and human breathing. Then Decker said, “Okay, listen to this. It was written a week before she died. It’s her response to an e-mail he must have written to her … which isn’t here. This is odd. How did it get deleted from the computer’s hard drive?”

“Check further down in her e-mail. Sometimes the previous correspondence is there.”

“No, it is
not
there. I checked.”

“Jeez, don’t bite my head off,” McAdams said.

“It’s late, I’m snappy, I make no apologies. Just listen.” Decker read the text.

McAdams said, “Ferraga wasn’t ready to let go.”

“Yeah, he was still carrying the torch even though it was daylight.” Decker kept reading, and then shuffled through the pages for a few minutes. “Nothing from her to him after that. Could be they communicated in some other way.”

“Phone or text.”

“The phone records should be in tomorrow.” Decker lifted his arms way above his head. “They should add to what we already have.”

“But we’re both thinking how it would play out,” McAdams told him. “Ferraga goes over to her house to beg her for a last fling. She refuses. He insists. Things get crazy. She pushes, he pushes, she pushes, and then he pushes again but this time a little too hard. She hits her head on the side table.”

“Sure.”

“Ferraga panics. He doesn’t know what to do. But he realizes he has to do something. He remembers Eli’s suicide just days ago and decides to link the two: that makes sense to him because Eli was working for Belfort. He even suggested that there was a strong bond between the two of them when we talked to him. So Ferraga lugs her up the mountain and invents this mythical suicide using the same phrase she used to dump him: ‘I can’t go on. The pain is too much’ or whatever. Poetic justice and all that.”

“Sure.”

“Why are you being so noncommittal?”

“I am seeing the same scenario you are, Tyler. Ferraga is way up on our list of suspects, but let’s not get tunnel vision. We now have a spurned wife to consider. From what Belfort wrote, she might have known what was going on. Maybe she went to Belfort’s house and confronted her.”

“At one in the morning?”

“She went earlier and Belfort wasn’t home.”

“So where was Belfort?”

“Trashing Mallon Euler’s room? Hiding papers in Mallon’s room? Out taking a walk? Who knows? Maybe Ferraga’s wife waited outside until Belfort came home and had it out with her.”

“Do you see a woman lugging a body up a mountain?”

“That’s a good point. It could be that after she killed Belfort, she realized she was in deep trouble and enlisted her husband’s help in lugging the body up the mountain. Out of guilt, Ferraga felt obliged to help his wife out.”

“Could be.”

“While I’m surmising, let’s consider Theo Rosser. He and Belfort hated each other. Their e-mail exchanges were always hostile, and from what we’ve heard, he was trying to get her kicked out of the department. And then there was Belfort’s little sideline with the hedge funds. Maybe her extracurricular activities got her into hot water. Maybe she lost someone a lot of money.”

McAdams paused. “If it was Belfort’s stochastic oscillator that got her into trouble, it could explain why someone other than Belfort broke into Mallon Euler’s dorm room.”

“Looking for evidence of Belfort’s system in Mallon’s room.”

“So the room trashing could be connected to Belfort’s murder.” His eyes widened. “Maybe Mallon really is in trouble. Is she safe staying with Damodar Batra?”

“I wouldn’t know for sure.” Decker smiled. “You’re worried?”

“I wouldn’t want to see her whacked if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Whacked?”

“C’mon. Yes or no? Do you think she’s safe?”

“Call her, McAdams. She’s probably still up. She’s a night owl and she had a nap in the car.”

“I’ll text her.”

“You young ’uns with your fancy phone machines.”

McAdams rolled his eyes and texted Mallon. When he was done, he said, “Are you going to pick Ferraga up?”

“Of course I am. I’d like to see if the phone records on Belfort’s cell came in. If I see a large amount of traffic between them the night she died, then I’ll have even more ammunition when I question him.”

“You’re not concerned about him running?”

“He hasn’t run yet, but he has to know that the affair is going to come out and it’ll look bad for him.” Decker started neatening the piles of e-mails. “Someone probably should be on watch at his house.”

McAdams’s phone beeped. He looked down. His fingers flew over the phone window.

“What did she text to you?”

“That she was fine. But I want to make sure it was from her and not Damodar.”

“So what did you text back?”

“I asked her where she was today and where she went.” His phone beeped. “Okay, she gave me the right answer. I know it’s her.” Again his fingers tapped the phone screen and then he stowed his cell. “I told her that I’ll keep my phone on so she can call me if she needs to. I know I’m encouraging her, but it’s that or feeling guilty if something bad happens to her. For some odd reason, she brings out some kind of primal protectiveness.”

“Admit it. She’s wormed her nerdy way into your heart.”

“It’s more like I can be around her without getting irritated. You said someone should be watching Ferraga’s house. By someone, do you mean us?”

“For me, the night is shot anyway. My mind is reeling, I’ve had three cups of caffeinated coffee since I got here, and I’m not at all tired. You however might be able to salvage a couple hours of sleep. I can watch Ferraga’s house by my lonesome.”

“No, no, no,” McAdams said. “The Three Musketeers and all that jazz.”

“There’re only two of us.”

“Well, I’m not about to crap out now,” McAdams said. “It’s a matter of pride.”

“I won’t argue,” Decker said. “And for the record, this is the one time you can be as annoying as you’d like. You can even completely piss me off.”

“Anger keeps you awake, right.”

“Anger and anxiety,” Decker said.

“Same here.”

“You’ve had a lot of sleepless nights, Tyler?”

“More than I care to remember.”

AT SIX IN
the morning, Decker called in a relief man and went to sleep for four hours, dead to the world. When he woke up at ten, he wiped the cobwebs from his brain with a hot shower, a good breakfast, and the ever-present caffeine fix. He wore a shirt and tie under a black V-neck sweater, a black blazer, and gray wool pants. To Rina, he said, “Kid still sleeping?”

“Yes.” She was dressed. Decker hadn’t even heard her wake up.

“Don’t wake him.”

“What’s your schedule for today?”

“I have a couple of interviews to do. Anyone call?”

“Ben Roiters said that Ferraga left the house at eight and drove to Kneed Loft. He assigned someone young from the department—had him dress like a student. He’s hanging around the hallways, keeping an eye on Ferraga.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Toni also called. Belfort’s last month’s phone records are in.”

“Then I have work to do.” Decker took a final sip of coffee. “What are your plans?”

Rina held up a finger. “One more thing. Tyler said it’s important.”

“Oh. What?”

“He forgot to tell you last night. He apologizes. He made calls to Professor Zhou’s math conference. After talking to a lot of people, he thinks that Professor Zhou actually left the conference early enough to put her back in Greenbury on the night that Belfort died. Tyler has no idea of her whereabouts, but he’ll follow it this morning and get a timeline for her movements.”

“Huh.” Decker stood up. “Well, that changes things.”

“What does?” McAdams came shuffling into the kitchen in his pajamas and robe. His hair was a mess and his eyes were red.

“Your revelation about Professor Zhou,” Decker said.

“Right. I’m following it up this morning. Give me a minute to shower and change.”

“You should eat something,” Rina said.

“I’ll grab a bagel.” He shuffled out of the kitchen and Rina and Decker heard the door close.

“I’m really worried he’s not going to do well on his exams,” Decker said.

“So solve the case so he can go back to school.”

“Sure. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Rina laughed, stood on tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. “He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“You’re right.” Decker took out his phone. “Let me just make a quick call.”

“Take your time. I’m going to Hillel and meet with the student board. They’re planning an on-campus Shabbat Challah Day this Friday … get it? Challah Day as holi-day?”

Decker rolled his eyes. “What exactly is Challah Day?”

“We’re baking a zillion challahs and distributing them around the campuses. What a hoot.”

“You don’t have to do it.”

“It’s fine. I like the kids. I can hear about their problems, be really sympathetic, and not be concerned because I’m not their mothers.” Decker didn’t answer. Rina said, “You haven’t heard a word I said. What’s going on?”

“Sorry. I’m just wondering if Belfort and Zhou were on the outs.”

McAdams came back in. He was dressed in a suit, but his hair was still wet. “I have no idea. But since she was back in town the night Belfort was murdered, we have to consider Rina’s idea. That maybe she trashed Mallon’s room. She was pretty darn anxious to get hold of Eli’s papers. Maybe she thought that Mallon had them.”

“Like I said, makeup and a wig can do wonders,” Rina answered.

Decker was still thinking. “I seem to recall e-mails between them—Zhou and Belfort—but it was centered on a thesis committee where I think Zhou was the adviser.” He paused. “It was in Belfort’s kneedloft.edu account.”

“Who was the student?”

“It wasn’t Elijah Wolf or Damodar Batra, that much I remember. But the name was familiar. I think I need to start a flowchart.”

Rina gave McAdams a paper bag. “Bagel and cream cheese with an apple and an orange. You can get coffee at the station house, although the coffee is terrible. And you should dry your hair before it freezes.” She picked up a window scraper. “I’ll see you both later.”

Decker took it from her. “I’ll do that.”

“The car has been warming up for fifteen minutes.”

“So it shouldn’t take me long.” He left the warmth of the kitchen without a jacket.

She turned to McAdams. “It makes him feel good.”

“He adores you.”

“And why not?” McAdams laughed, and Rina said, “How’s the studying coming?”

“Fine.”

“He’s worried about you. I keep telling him you can handle it. And I think you can. But I’m also a little concerned.”

McAdams fidgeted. “No need.”

“Tyler, crime won’t go away after you graduate law school.”

“I know. I’m fine, Rina.”

Decker came back. “All done.” He kissed his wife. “Have a fun time baking.”

“At least it will be warm,” Rina said.

After she left, McAdams turned to Decker. “Peter, I know you’re concerned about my studies. I want you to know that I had a really good day yesterday. I’ll come in to the station house for a couple of hours: maybe do the flowchart and pick up the loose ends. I’ll be back here in the afternoon to study. So don’t worry and we’ll both be okay.”

Decker blew out air. “What happens if you don’t pass?”

“I think I’m put on probation, but I’m not sure. Don’t worry. It’s not going to happen. I may not ace the exam, but I’ll pass.”

Decker smoothed his mustache. “All right. Let’s get going.”

“When are you bringing in Ferraga?”

“As soon as I’m done checking Belfort’s phone records. It probably won’t be until late afternoon. You’ll be studying.”

“Maybe.” When Decker gave him the stink eye, McAdams said, “Joke. Get it? Joke.”

“I’d get it if it was funny. Passing exams isn’t a joke.”

“You know what? You nag me way more than my parents ever did.”