Equivocal Death

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death

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death

a n o v e l

amy

gutman

l i t t l e , b r o w n a n d c o m pa n y b o s t o n n e w y o r k l o n d o n

Copyright © 2001 by Amy Gutman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Quotations from
Practical Homicide Investigation: Tactics, Procedures, and Forensic
Techniques, 3d ed.
, by Vernon J. Geberth, Retired Commander, Bronx Homicide, NYPD, © 1996 by CRC Press, Inc. Reprinted by permission.

Quotation from the Buddha from
A Heart As Wide As the World: Stories on the Path
of Lovingkindness
by Sharon Salzberg © 1997. Reprinted by arrangement with Shambhala Publications, Inc., Boston.

Quotations from
Sexual Harassment of Working Women
by Catharine A. MacKinnon

© 1979 by Yale University. Reprinted by permission of Yale University Press.

Lines from M’naghten’s Case, as reprinted at pages 968–970 in
Criminal Law and
Its Processes: Cases and Materials, 5th ed.
, © 1989 by Sanford H. Kadish and Stephen J. Schulhofer. Published by Little, Brown and Company. Reprinted by arrangement with Aspen Law and Business Panel Publishers.

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Warner Books

1271 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020

An AOL Time Warner Company

Visit our web site at www.twbookmark.com.

ISBN: 0-7595-9834-7

First eBook Edition: June 2003

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For my family

9858_00_i-viii_1-2_r5hb.qxd 9/28/00 3:53 PM Page vi 9858_00_i-viii_1-2_r5hb.qxd 9/28/00 3:53 PM Page vii Equivocal death investigations are those inquiries that are open to interpretation. There may be two or more meanings and the case may present as either a homicide or a suicide depending upon the circumstances. . . . The deaths may resemble homicides or suicides; accidents or naturals. They are open to interpretation pending further information of the facts, the vic-timology, and the circumstances of the event.

— Practical Homicide Investigation,
3d ed
.

Vernon J. Geberth

Those who are heedless, or unmindful, are as if dead already.

— The Buddha

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equivocal

death

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Wednesday, December 23

1

2

Ice cold. He pressed his hand to the window and watched the frost 3

dissolve, felt the moisture collect on his palm. He’d switched off 4

the lights, and the interior darkness mirrored the inky void out-5

side. Standing immobile, he could almost imagine that he was 6

alone in the world or better yet that he did not even exist, that he 7

was simply a part of this floating emptiness, transported by waves 8

of black snow.

9

But his lungs filled with air. He felt the rhythm of his breath, 10

stark and fatal as an accusation.

11

He was alive.

12

And there was work to be done.

13

Moving away from the window, he switched on a Bestlite floor 14

lamp, acquired from a British import company during his last year 15

of school. He liked things to be well made. He surveyed the scene 16

before him. The space where he stood was cavernous, at least 17 sh

thirty feet long and twenty feet wide. Part of a former warehouse, 18 re

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4

A M Y G U T M A N

1

it was isolated enough to meet his needs. His desk faced a sweep of 2

tall windows, while his clothes — Brooks Brothers suits, several 3

shirts, a tux — hung neatly on a portable chrome garment rack. A 4

Bose CD player sat on an antique table.

5

He was pleased with the space. Everything was just as he liked 6

it. The barren surroundings only underscored the beauty and fine-7

ness of his few selected possessions. His eyes traced the narrow 8

confines of his life.

9

Then, decisively, he made his entrance.

10

Moving to the CD player, he pushed Play. Instantly, the room 11

filled with the opening chords of Cherubini’s
Medea.
A 1959

12

recording. Remarkable music. Potent. Full of a terrible rage. He 13

glanced down at the CD cover, at the diva Maria Callas. Arched 14

nose. Raven hair. Hands splayed like claws. What was it he saw 15

there? A passion for vengeance — for justice — that matched his 16

own. The promise of its fulfillment. And with this, an unflagging 17

sense of order, of timeliness, of fate. It was this he needed above all 18

else. For even as the time for action grew closer, his confidence had 19

started to ebb. Why had he waited so long? The plan that had 20

seemed so brilliant when he first conceived it could at times seem 21

almost absurd. Again, he tried to push back these thoughts. It was 22

dangerous to think this way.

23

Sitting down at his desk, he turned on his laptop computer. The 24

screen flashed bright. From here on, it was almost too easy. The 25

most profitable law firm in the country. Thirty-seven partners who 26

counted themselves among the most respected lawyers in the 27

world. Power brokers and advisers, they counseled governments, 28

corporations, and the rare private individual with sufficient wealth 29

to pay their fees. And yet cracking their computer safeguards had 30

been child’s play.

31

Strange, the unerring detection of their clients’ vulnerabilities 32

and the utter disregard of their own. Samson’s computer network 33

had just been overhauled at huge expense. The mere fact of this in-ort 34

vestment had seemed to assuage their concerns. There was some-reg 35

thing touching in this naïveté, the almost childlike belief in 9858_01_003-152_r5hb.qxd 9/28/00 3:57 PM Page 5

E Q U I V O C A L D E A T H

5

money. Their computer network was top of the line. Nothing more 1

need be said.

2

Besides, the elder statesmen of Samson disdained technology, 3

the proliferation of desktop computers. They yearned for the days 4

of dictation. Of pretty secretaries, heads bowed, recording their 5

every word. But in the end, even Samson had been forced to sub-6

mit. The firm’s quaint refusal to communicate by e-mail, once seen 7

as a charming relic of its patrician past, had begun to interfere with 8

business. And Samson was, first and foremost, a business. Bowing 9

to the inevitable, the firm edged its way into cyberspace, a territory 10

as alien to its rulers as the planet Mars. E-mail. The Internet. Stan-11

dard issue for more than a decade in the modern business world but 12

still suspect intruders at Samson.

13

And so he found himself in the happy position of breaking and 14

entering an unlocked house. The attorneys’ “secret” passwords 15

gave the illusion of privacy but none of its substance. Remarkable, 16

really, the faith placed by these brilliant men and women in a tech-17

nology they didn’t understand.
Hubris.
The fatal flaw.

18

He typed in her user ID, mwaters. Then came the password 19

prompt. He grinned as he typed in the response: password. That 20

was it. The same word for everyone. Something easy to remember.

21

She could have changed the defaults, of course. It would have 22

taken only a minute. But she hadn’t taken the time. Like the oth-23

ers, she couldn’t be bothered.

24

A few more clicks, and he was scrolling through a list of her files.

25

Luckily for him, she was one of the new breed, treating her hard 26

drive like a filing cabinet. He’d dipped into these files in the past, 27

not out of any real interest, but for the thrill he took in the fact 28

that he could. Confidential memos outlining trial strategies for 29

lawsuits worth tens of millions of dollars. Clinical dissections of 30

the odds of success. Privileged information that, if leaked, would 31

mean the loss of fortune and career. If blackmail were the goal, 32

he’d have had it made.

33

But he had other things on his mind.

34 sh

Exiting WordPerfect, he clicked on the Calendar icon. In an in-35 re

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A M Y G U T M A N

1

stant, it appeared before him, everything crystal clear. The perfect 2

map. Madeleine Waters’s anticipated movements for the next 3

twelve months. He felt an adrenaline surge, stiff heat in his shoul-4

ders and neck. The room was growing colder as the night chill 5

deepened, but he barely noticed. He had work to do, decisions to 6

make.

7

He reviewed the recent additions. December 23. With Christ-8

mas approaching, the week had been slow: the usual assortment of 9

professional engagements, lunches, meetings, the occasional bene-10

fit or awards banquet in support of a worthy cause.

11

And then a single entry struck his eye.

12

Dinner with Chuck Thorpe. At Ormond. January 5. He knew 13

the restaurant. Had in fact eaten there when it opened last year, 14

unable to absent himself discreetly from the Civil Rights Forum’s 15

annual dinner. Such occasions always left him aching with hatred 16

for the world he’d been forced to inhabit. The smug corporate 17

sponsors. The self-satisfied attorneys who came to be feted, confi-18

dent that their brief forays into pro bono work conferred a sort of 19

secular sainthood.

20

But this miserable dinner had finally proved a gift in disguise.

21

He remembered the restaurant clearly, the low lights, the widely 22

spaced tables. Yes, it was almost ideal, better than he could have 23

hoped. A sense of euphoria swept through him.

24