The Theory of Death (19 page)

“Never saw anyone, except once, she saw someone leave around two. It was dark and the person was bundled in a coat and scarf. She just assumed it was one of the kids.”

“Students wouldn’t own cars,” Decker said.

“So maybe it was the blond guy,” Karen suggested.

“She didn’t see a face?” Decker asked.

“Nope.”

“Well, that is really a shame!” Decker clapped his gloves to get circulation in his fingers. “Okay, what about the night of her death? Any luck?”

Karen said, “The people I talked to were fast asleep by twelve and didn’t know anything about an incident until this afternoon when they saw all the official cars.”

Kevin said, “Mostly the same except there was Belfort’s next-door neighbor to the north. You’ll need to talk to her. She had trouble sleeping last night and got up to read around two or three in the morning. She decided to make herself a cup of herbal tea and she peeked out the back window. She saw something moving across her backyard. She couldn’t make out anything specific because the backdoor light was off in Katrina’s house. But she didn’t think too much about it because she thought it was an animal … low to the ground and not walking upright like a human.”

“Low to the ground,” Decker repeated. “Someone dragging a body through snowdrifts would be bent over.”

“Like I said, you should talk to her.”

Decker said, “So regular visitors were three or more students, a blond guy, and our mysterious occupant of a sedan. What about females closer to her age?”

Karen shrugged. “Nope.”

Kevin said, “Same here.”

“Okay,” Decker said. “Good work. Go to the station house, get warm, and write it all up on the official forms: names, address, telephone numbers, and statement.”

“No prob, Pete,” Kevin said. “Do you need it tonight?”

“Yes, I do. Just leave your reports on my desk.”

“What are you going to do?” Karen asked.

“I’m going to go inside the house, warm up, and hunt around for signs of a crime.”

Kevin looked around. “Where’s Robin, Batman?”

“At Kneed Loft poking around.”

“I thought he was in law school,” Karen said.

“He is, but you know how it is. People who break the law are a hell of a lot more interesting than the guys who uphold it.”

WHEN ATTEMPTING TO
interview students, McAdams realized quickly that they didn’t stick around in any one place for too long. Damodar Batra committed to three locations at the time of Belfort’s demise: his dorm room, the library, a party in Goddard Hall, and … oh yeah, he went out to get a pizza at around eleven because all the party food was gone and he was hungry. He had probably been noticed by a zillion people and all of them probably couldn’t remember where or when they saw him.

Mallon was a little easier to pin down because she claimed she was in one space—the library—and there were people who did remember seeing her there. But they didn’t remember exactly what time or for how long. That kind of precision—when the person remembers it was exactly two because the church clock rang out—usually exists only in fiction.

Katrina’s final student was Ari Weissberg. He was on a bus coming back from Boston last night after visiting friends at MIT. He claimed he arrived at his room around midnight, studied a little, and then went to sleep around one. He did say hi to a few people but he doesn’t remember exact times. The only thing that McAdams could confirm was that the kid arrived at the Hamilton bus station at 11:30
P.M.
It took at least thirty minutes to get back. Beyond that, the trail faded to black.

As far as faculty, McAdams had placed two calls to Dean Zhou and she had yet to call back. Her whereabouts went to the top of his list. He did manage to catch Aldo Ferraga in the flesh. The man was in a rush and appeared distracted. He had allotted five minutes for an interview before heading to a faculty meeting, which was going to deal with Katrina’s horrible “accident” in the woods.

“Why do you say it’s an accident?”

The man combed his curly hair with stubby fingers. “Who would want to murder her?” He sounded peeved. “She was a hardworking woman and this is a very small and safe town. The whole thing is crazy!”

“Did you know her well?”

“I knew her. She was a colleague and she was nicer than most. Ambitious, of course, but if you want to get tenure, you have to be ambitious.”

“Have you ever seen her outside the school?”

“My wife and I had her over for dinner. She had us over for dinner. That kind of thing.”

“Often.”

“No, not often. A few times.”

“Did you know what her research was about?”

“Of course. Fourier transforms.”

“Like Mallon Euler.”

“Which is precisely why Rosser thought that she and Katrina would be a good match. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“You told us that Elijah Wolf was working on Fourier transforms. I had heard that his primary interest was fractals.”

“Ah, yes, in the beginning, but he switched to Fourier transforms mid junior year. He began showing a keen interest in applied math. I told you and the older detective all this this morning.”

“That was about Elijah Wolf. This is about the untimely death of Katrina Belfort. We’re talking again to everyone who knew her. So you may have to endure a little repetition.” Ferraga was silent. McAdams said, “If Eli’s interests were changing, maybe he was secretly meeting Katrina Belfort to talk about Fourier transforms.”

“I wouldn’t know, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Katrina often invited students over to her house just to talk.” A long pause. “And she did speak very fondly of Eli.”

“How fondly?”

“I suppose it doesn’t make any difference now.” A sigh. “Katrina wanted to be his primary thesis adviser. I know she wanted him to switch from Rosser because Eli seemed to be gravitating in her direction.”

“How’d that meeting go?”

“What do you think? There was a shouting match. Rosser was furious. He almost had Katrina fired, which he could do because she was on probation. A few of the faculty intervened, including Dean Zhou and me. Suggesting a student change primary advisers is not a reason for dismissal. When cooler heads prevailed, the matter was dropped and no one spoke of it any further.”

“But you think he was still seeing Belfort on the sly?”

“It’s possible.”

“This morning, you told me that Eli had turned to Lennaeus Tolvard, working with him on the sly.”

“I said I
thought
it was possible. The man was on Eli’s thesis committee.” Ferraga checked his watch. “I must go now.”

“One more question, sir. Where were you last night between ten and four in the morning?”

“Me?”

“We’re taking statements from everyone, Professor. It’s nothing personal.”

“I certainly hope it is not personal.” He cleared his throat. “I was home with my wife. She can vouch for me. I went to bed later than she did, but I never left the house.”

Same alibi as Rosser. McAdams said, “Could I take a look at your phone and laptop? It might be able to alibi you if you used either one of the electronics at home.”

“I don’t need an alibi because I didn’t do anything. And I didn’t make or receive any phone calls last night. I don’t even think I used my computer. Most of my computations are done by hand.” He stopped talking and regarded McAdams’s eyes. “I need to lock up. I’m already late for my appointment.”

“Of course,” McAdams said. “Thank you for your time.”

Ferraga escorted him out. “Next time make an appointment. Then I won’t be so rushed.”

“I would have done that but these are extraordinary times, don’t you think?”

Ferraga didn’t answer. He locked the door, picked up his briefcase, and walked away without so much as a good-bye.

“ROSSER TOLD ME
that her students came to her house,” Decker said. “That syncs with what the neighbors told us.”

“He also said that Belfort liked her admirers. I think Rosser was trying to paint her as a flirt, maybe even more. What do you think?”

Decker and McAdams were standing in Katrina Belfort’s living room. Decker had been going through her most recent calls on her cell phone while the kid was scrolling through her computer. “I don’t honestly know. He clearly didn’t like her. Good job with the interviews and alibis, by the way.”

“I do my best.” McAdams was trying to break into her e-mail with little success. Her computer was one wall after another of security. Even her word-processing files needed a password. “Do you think she was having an affair with one or more of her students?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Decker said. “Although I am curious why Rosser was leading you in that direction. Maybe he was hiding his own affair behind the accusations?”

“I thought about that,” McAdams said. “Maybe the love loss bit was a ruse. Or maybe he was jealous of the others. Katrina was a good-looking woman. Or maybe she was carrying on with more than one person.”

“Or she could be legitimately helping her students. She hadn’t lived in Greenbury for very long, no signs of a busy social life, maybe her work was her life. I can tell you this much. She had roughly the same phone calls over and over—Mallon, Damodar, Ari, Elijah Wolf when he was alive … then you have Rosser, Zhou, and Ferraga. There are also lots of calls to someone named Ryan.” Decker looked around the room. Then he held up the photograph of Katrina and a young man in skiwear. “Our missing link?”

“Maybe. Give a call.”

Decker stared at the picture. “He looks younger than she is.” He continued to study the picture. “Of course!” He slapped the photo. “They look alike. The eyes, the lips … the identical smile.”

McAdams stopped what he was doing and looked at the picture. “Right. Brother and sister.”

Decker didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “Look at Katrina’s face for a moment, Harvard. Tell me what you see.” When McAdams picked up the glam shot, Decker said, “No, put that down and look at the ski snapshot. Who does she look like besides the guy standing next to her in the picture?”

McAdams studied her face. “Are you thinking Mallon Euler?”

“Same long face, roughly the same height. Belfort’s build is bigger, but under a hoodie you couldn’t tell that. If she was covering all that long hair, I think she could easily pass for Mallon.”

“If it was Katrina who broke into Mallon’s room, what could she be looking for?”

“Maybe she thought that Mallon might have a copy of Eli’s papers. Or maybe she was trying to spook Mallon?”

“But why?”

“I don’t know. I’m just shouting out suggestions.” Decker held up the phone. “Let’s see what Ryan has to say, if anything.”

The line was connected, and after four rings, it went to her voice message.

You’ve reached Ryan, you know what to do.

Beep
.

“This is Detective Peter Decker of the Greenbury Police Department. Please call me back as soon as you get this message.” He recited his cell number and hung up the phone. He pointed to the computer. “Did you find anything worthwhile in that hunk of metal?”

“Not yet. I’d probably have more success if I took it with me and studied it in your house.”

“We shouldn’t take it home. It’s evidence.”

“One night.”

“We’ll deal with that later. Right now let’s have a look around. Make sure we haven’t overlooked a crime scene.”

“You don’t think she was killed in the woods?”

“She might have been poisoned here and dragged into the woods. If that were so, the house would be the primary crime scene. How about if you rummage through the kitchen and bathroom cupboards and cabinets and see what kind of pills and poisons are lurking about. I’ll check out the living room and bedroom, go through the drawers, and look for signs of a struggle.”

“Everything looks pretty darn neat, Deck.”

“That’s why I said I’ll look for
signs
of a struggle, Harvard. I’m searching for all the tiny cracks. Eventually I’ll find a leak. With crime, there’s no such thing as watertight.”

S
OME PEOPLE MAINTAINED
neat rooms in their public spaces, but the drawers and closets of their bedrooms were dumping grounds. Not so with Katrina Belfort. Her desktop was clear except for the computer and monitor and everything stored below had been organized. While McAdams poked around in her bedroom, Decker pulled out the drawers’s contents and sifted through the printed matter. He mostly found bills, old receipts, and bank statements organized by dates and categories. All of the amounts going in and out suggested a reasonable life. Her academic work was contained in the bottom two drawers—papers with indecipherable formulas except to those in the know—and two neatly typed-up articles, both of them having to do with longitudinal studies of stock prediction using fast Fourier transforms. There were also a few cover letters to academic journals, explaining her topic and submitting her work for publication.

There were no personal letters, but people often correspond in texts, tweets, and e-mails. He hoped her phone and computer would divulge some hints as to what had happened in the woods.

A half hour later, McAdams emerged from the bedroom, holding a sheet of paper with a latex-gloved hand. “I think you need to see this.”

He handed the paper to Decker. Smack in the middle of the sheet were the lines

It was typed using the same font and letter size as Belfort’s peer-review articles: Times New Roman with a magnification of twelve.

“Where’d you find this?” Decker asked.

“In a nightstand drawer. Just opened it up and there it was,” McAdams said. “It’s rather nonspecific for a suicide note.”

“First thing I’m interested in is what kind of pain. Did you go through the bathroom yet?”

“I did.”

“Did you find any prescription medication?”

McAdams took out his notebook. “Aleve, Tylenol, Claritin, Benadryl, Sudafed, vitamins—organic, by the way. One vial of erythromycin with two tablets inside … she didn’t finish her course, bad girl.”