The Theory of Death (36 page)

“That’s not true, Alistair. Dr. Zhou told us you switched topics after a year.”

Dixon looked at the tabletop. He was silent.

McAdams said, “Alistair, I did a senior thesis at Harvard. It’s hard to find something new. It is a pure pain in the butt. And it’s not unusual to switch topics.”

“So I switched topics. So what?”

Decker said, “So how’d you decide upon doing the mathematics of the stochastic oscillator indicator for your master’s thesis?”

“My first topic wasn’t going in the direction I wanted. I was fooling around with applications of Fourier analysis and waves and I hit on the stochastic oscillator indicator. It was something of practical use that interested me.”

“The indicator has been around for ages. You obviously were looking at it from a new perspective.”

“Right. Exactly.”

“Tell us about it.”

“It’s very mathematical.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake!” McAdams blurted out. “Stop hiding behind numbers. We know that there was a group looking at the indicator with fresh sets of eyes. We know that Mallon Euler was in that group. So just tell the goddamn truth so we don’t have to constantly repeat ourselves.”

Decker was surprised by the outburst, but it seemed to wake Dixon up. He said, “Let’s try it from the beginning—again. Who told you about the stochastic oscillator index, Alistair?”

“It’s a well-known mathematical indicator.”

“Answer the question, Dixon,” McAdams said. “Who told you about it?”

A resigned exhale. “Damodar Batra. We just got to talking one day and he mentioned he was doing some innovative work on the stochastic oscillator indicator. It sounded … promising.” He looked down, then back up. “Like I said, I was struggling with my first topic. It just … and Lin can be … whatever. What Damodar was doing sounded interesting and not too difficult. So I asked Lin if I could switch topics, and after some convincing, she said okay.”

“And it went okay for a while, but then you got stuck,” McAdams said. “So you went back to Damodar to ask some questions and he had reservations about helping you.”

“Have you talked to Damodar already?” Dixon asked.

“Not yet,” McAdams said. “But we will. We’ll need confirmation. So just get it all out there. Like Detective Decker said, it looks bad to hold back.”

Dixon shook his head. “Batra got super pissed when he found out that I had changed my thesis topic. He said the information that he had given me wasn’t for public consumption, and if anyone found out, he’d be in deep shit. I told him that the stochastic oscillator indicator had been around for a long time. That all I was doing was a practical application of Fourier analysis with my own spin.”

Decker said, “What was your own spin?”

“I don’t want to sound like a snob, but it really involves a lot of math.”

“Let me guess. You were using Dr. Belfort’s algorithm. Except that piece of intellectual property didn’t belong to you. It didn’t even belong to Damodar.”

Dixon blew out air. His eyes got wet.

McAdams said, “Batra threatened to report you.”

“He did.” Dixon looked down. “But then I threatened to report him. Because what Dr. Belfort was doing wasn’t sanctioned by the department. It could have screwed both of them. In the end, neither of us reported anything and we stopped speaking to each other. If anyone had a grudge against Belfort, it would be Batra, not me.”

“Why would Damodar have a grudge against Belfort?” McAdams asked.

“He felt she wasn’t paying him nearly enough to do the grunt work.”

“But you’re the one co-opting Belfort’s work as your own,” Decker said. “Maybe she found out about it. Maybe she was going to expose you.”

“She couldn’t expose me without exposing herself,” Dixon said.

“So you had spoken to Dr. Belfort on the topic.”

“No!” Dixon was adamant. “I don’t think she even knew about my thesis. She wasn’t on my committee, so there wouldn’t be any reason that she’d know about it.”

“Maybe she found out,” Decker said. “Maybe Batra told her.”

“That would put him in the weeds. I guarantee you that he never told her.” Dixon dry-washed his face. “Look. I did … borrow the topic. But honestly, I was trying to put my own spin on it.”

“But your own spin wasn’t working too well,” Decker said. “We know that Dr. Zhou read your paper and had problems with it. She called you when she came back from her conference and expressed her concerns.”

“She told us your paper was a mess,” McAdams said.

“It wasn’t a mess!” Dixon lowered his voice. “Of course, it needed some adjustments, but it wasn’t a mess.”

“But you needed help,” Decker said. “You needed data. You couldn’t break into Batra’s room because he’d immediately suspect you. Eli was dead and his room cleaned out, so there was no luck with him. That left Ari and Mallon. You had no idea where Ari was, so you couldn’t take the chance of breaking into his room. He could walk in at any moment. But you knew Mallon went to the library that night. So it had to be Mallon by default.”

The room fell silent.

“Okay …” Dixon whispered. He put his hands together as if in prayer and touched the fingertips to his lips. Then he said, “I admit that I asked a friend to go to Mallon’s room and see if she had any papers that might help me.”

“How would your friend know what to look for?” McAdams asked.

“She’s a math major.”

“And she agreed?”

“She was a friend.” He paused. “She has a thing for me.”

“Did she find anything?”

“Unfortunately no. Dr. Belfort must have kept all the paperwork at her house.”

“So you left Dr. Zhou’s office and then you met up with your accomplice,” Decker said.

“She wasn’t an accomplice. She was just doing me a favor.”

“She broke into Mallon’s dorm room and ransacked it trying to steal data for you. That would qualify in my dictionary as an accomplice. I’ll need a name.”

“
Please
keep her out of it.”

“I have to talk to her. What’s her name?”

“God, I’ve made a mess of things.”

“Name, Alistair.”

“Lucinda Rinaldi.” He spelled it for Decker. “I’ll take the blame. Please just
try
to leave her out of it.”

“I can’t promise you anything, but if you tell me the truth, it’ll make it easier on everyone. After Lucinda told you that she couldn’t find any data, what did you do?”

Dixon turned white. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Let me rephrase the question,” Decker said. “Where did you go after your meeting with Dr. Zhou? And don’t tell me you went back to your dorm room. We know you didn’t.” When Dixon was silent, Decker said. “Okay. Don’t answer the question. We know where you went. You went to break into Dr. Belfort’s house to find the data yourself.”

“I think I should get a—”

“What happened?” Decker interrupted. “Did you wake her up? Did you catch her by surprise?”

“No!”

“Did things get out of hand? Was there a struggle?”

“No, I swear! No, no, no!”

“Look, Alistair, I know it was an accident. You didn’t mean to kill her.”

“I didn’t kill her!” Fat tears were running down his cheeks. “I didn’t kill her because she was already
dead
when I got there!”

W
HEN DIXON REALIZED
what he’d blurted out, he covered his face with his hands. “I am so screwed!”

Decker spoke soothingly. “We’ll get through this together.”

“What do you want?” Dixon dropped his hands to the tabletop and looked up with wet eyes that beseeched. “Just tell me what you
want
!”

“Are you hungry, Alistair?”

“God no. I’m nauseated.”

“Thirsty? Maybe you’d like a soda to calm your stomach, or something hot like herbal tea? You may be here for a while.”

He shook his head.

McAdams said, “I’ll get us all some coffee.”

After he left, Dixon said, “I didn’t
kill
her. I was horrified when …” Again he covered his face as if that would blot out the memory. “I didn’t kill her.”

“I believe you.”

He took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “So what do you want?”

Decker paused. “Let’s go back a little bit. What time did you leave Dr. Zhou’s office?”

“Around one-thirty in the morning.”

“And where did you go after that?”

“I walked back to my dorm room.”

“But you didn’t
go
to your dorm room.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I texted Lucinda.”

“The girl who was doing you a favor.”

“Yeah, please keep her out of it.”

“I’ll do what I can. Can I see the text?”

“Deleted. It’s gone.”

“I’ll still need your phone. You know that texts are often retrievable.” Dixon was quiet. Decker said, “Go on. What did you text Lucinda?”

“I asked if she had any luck. So she texted me back saying that she didn’t find any papers in Mallon’s room at all, let alone anything that related to the stochastic oscillator algorithm. Mallon must keep her work with her.”

“What time did Lucinda text you?”

“I might have deleted her text as well.” He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his texts. “No, I didn’t. One thirty-six.” He showed the phone to Decker, who wrote the time down on his pad.

“Good. You’re doing great. Then what happened?”

“I probably made the worst decision of my life.”

McAdams came back into the room with a tray. He set the coffee, paper cups, and powdered creamer and sugar on the table. He handed Decker a cup and said, “What was the worst decision of your life?”

“I was almost at my dorm. It was late, I was tired, and I guess I was in panic mode. My thesis was at a standstill, Damodar was pissed at me, you wouldn’t let me look at Eli’s papers, and I had hit a total roadblock. So instead of going back home, I turned around and walked over to Dr. Belfort’s house.”

Decker said, “How long did it take you to walk there?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“So you arrived at her house around two in the morning.”

“About.”

“What happened once you got there?”

“I just wanted to talk to her. Maybe she would be willing to help me out in exchange for me helping her out.”

“How would you help her out?”

“I was going to offer to help her like Damodar and Mallon. I was going to offer my services.”

“If she agreed to help you with your thesis.”

“Yes. And I didn’t break into her house. I want to make that clear.”

“Okay,” Decker said. “So what did you do once you arrived at her house?”

“A light was on in her living room. Several lights were on, actually. I knocked at the door. I figured she was working late.”

“All right. You knocked on the door. Go on.”

“Obviously no one answered. So I went around to the back, figuring that maybe she didn’t hear me or she was working at the back part of the house.” Dixon licked his lips. “When I knocked on her back door, it opened up.”

“The back door was unlocked?”

“Not just unlocked. It was unlatched. When I touched it, the door opened.”

“So what did you do?”

“I made another bad decision.” His voice was filled with self-loathing. “I went in and called out. ‘Hello, anyone home?’ That kind of thing. I walked into her living room and saw her lying there.” His voice dropped to a hush. “It was awful. I’ve never seen a dead body before.”

“And you’re sure she was dead.”

“Yeah.”

“What position was she in?”

He closed his eyes trying to remember something that was impossible for him to forget. “She was on the floor, her upper body leaning against the couch. Her head was canted to the side, her chin was resting against her chest … her mouth was slack, her eyes were closed. I tried to wake her up. I shook her arm … gently at first, then harder. She didn’t respond. She … fell over to the side.”

“Which side?”

“The left, I think. That’s when I freaked. I just got the hell out of there.”

“And you didn’t at any time call the police or an ambulance?”

“No.” A pause. “That looks bad, right?” When Decker didn’t answer, Dixon said, “It wouldn’t have mattered. She was dead.”

“Where exactly was she in relation to the couch: right side, left side, or in the middle?”

“On the left side, I want to say.” Again his eyes closed. “An end table was knocked down. There was a pool of blood on the floor. Blood was also running down her shirt.” He paused. “There were also two coffee cups on the sofa table—like hand-made ceramic mugs with three-dimensional faces on them. I guess you saw that when you searched the house.”

“You know that we didn’t find Dr. Belfort in her house, Alistair.”

“Right. She was in the woods.”

“And that meant someone dragged her into the woods.”

“I didn’t do it. I got out of there and went straight back to the dorm.”

“What time was this?”

“Around two forty-five. You can check with the electronic swipe on my dorm door because I had to swipe in.” Silence. “I swear she was already dead.”

“You took her pulse? You checked her breathing?” When Dixon didn’t answer, Decker said, “If you had called us right away, even anonymously, we would have come down right away. We could have checked her pulse. We could have checked her breathing. She could have still been alive.”

“If you would have seen her, you would know she was dead.”

“And you’re an expert? Someone who has never seen a dead body?”

Dixon’s eyes moistened. He whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Even if she had been dead, if you had called us, the integrity of the crime scene would have remained intact. She wouldn’t have been dragged into the woods. Her back skull would have been whole instead of being obliterated by a gunshot wound in a weak attempt to make it look like a suicide. And even more important, we might have been able to nab whoever shot her because that person was probably in the house when you went inside.”

The room went silent.

“This is the point where everything gets sticky, Alistair,” Decker said. “Do I arrest you for murder or do I arrest you for unlawful entry and tampering with a crime scene?”

“I told you that the door was unlocked.”