The Theory of Death

by Faye Kellerman

  “Sixteen.”

  McAdams let out a laugh. “How’s she doing?”

  “Give her a call and find out.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “Are you in law school? I’m in charge of updating our alumni list.”

  “Yes, I’m in law school.”

  “Where, darling?”

  “Harvard. And I’m sure that’s way more impressive to your parents than my police work.”

  Under her breath, she muttered, “Not to me.”

  McAdams smiled although Iris couldn’t see it. “Law school is a promise I made to my father and my late grandfather. Actually, I don’t hate it. Obviously I’m not entirely divorced from investigatory work. Hence the phone call.”

  “Why are you interested in Mallon?”

  “Can’t tell you.” McAdams paused. “Is she related to the famous Euler?”

  “Great-great-great-grandniece. It says on her application. And that’s all I’m going to tell you since you’re being stingy with your information.”

  “So she left the school at fifteen . . . and you have no idea where she went?”

  “Did you just hear what I said?”

  “How did she get on in school? I know she was bullied.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “She told me.”

  A long pause. “If you know the girl, why are you asking me these questions?”

  “I know the girl, but I trust you.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere. Yes, she was bullied in her first year. She was in the nurse’s office all the time, although her injuries weren’t physical. Her second year, I didn’t see her as much. Perhaps she learned how to deal with the idiots. Perhaps the girls found someone else. You know we do the best we can, but we can’t control the minutiae of behavior. And girls are always getting their feelings hurt even if they’re not bullied. It’s always best for kids to figure out how to handle themselves. Of course, if there is anything physical, we have to step in.”

  “And with Mallon, there was nothing physical?”

  “Nothing is noted in her records. As far as I can remember, there was nothing that required intervention.”

  “She’s brilliant. Could she have gotten into college early?”

  “I don’t know. She never answered any of our questionnaires after she left.”

  “Could you ask around for me?”

  “I’ll do what I can, which won’t be much. I’ve got to go, darling. I’ll tell Dr. Kent to call you.”

  “Thank you, Iris.”

  “You can thank me by dropping by on Career Day.”

  “Oh please. The place must be overrun with parents and alumni who are lawyers.”

  “Lawyers, yes. Cops are another story. Surely you can tell us something interesting that will keep us awake for once.”

  “If you can fill in the blanks about Mallon, I will be happy to talk to you about investigation work—or what little I know about it.”

  “I’m sure you know plenty.”

  “Enough to keep you entertained. I’ll even bring a pipe and a deerstalker hat for ambience.”

  “We have a uniform no-smoking policy. Even Sherlock would be forced to comply.”

  “What would Sherlock Holmes be without his pipe?”

  “A bland do-gooder just like the rest of them. But you know how it is in institutions, Tyler. Rules are effing rules.”

  CHAPTER 10

  AS SOON AS McAdams heard the car pull into the driveway, he came out of the house and waited on the porch. It was a little past two in the afternoon and his studying had been slow going since he had returned from lunch and spoke to Decker about Mallon Euler. He wasn’t sure why he had such an uneasy feeling. Part of it was suspicion, but he was savvy enough to realize that part of it was attraction. It had been a while since he had felt soft lips and vulnerability. The women he knew in university were identical to the men: smart and all about the competition. He had nothing to offer any of them other than his sarcasm and snobbery, which was guaranteed to keep everyone at arm’s length.

  Rina got out of the Porsche and waved. Tyler waved back. “What ho, as Bertie Wooster would say.”

  “What ho right back at you.” Rina bounded up to the front door. “Where is Jeeves when you need him?”

  “Sure be nice to have someone bring me tea and solve my problems.” McAdams shook his head. “I am wondering about the wisdom of my coming down here.”

  Decker walked up to the porch. “Yeah, let’s talk about that.” He threw his arm around the kid and the three of them went inside the house. “You need to go back to Boston, put some distance between you and the girl.”

  “If she’s determined, she can still contact me.”

  “If she’s rational, she’ll know it’d be inappropriate. I am concerned about stalking.”

  “She’s not . . . I didn’t get that feeling. But I’m not too good at reading people.”

  Rina gave Decker her jacket. “You can hang this up while I make coffee.”

  “Fair division of labor.” Decker turned back to McAdams. “She already has a thing for you from the past. Just go back up and finish out your term.”

  “I should have told her no—or that I have a girlfriend or I’m gay. Anything except to agree to go out with her.” He hit his head. “What was I thinking?”

  Rina said, “She threw you a curve ball.”

  “She seemed so uninterested yesterday.”

  “You do realize that she was talking to us in a tank top and shorts,” Decker said. “She made no move to change into something more suitable considering we were the police.”

  “Yeah, I should have picked up on that. Damn those women and their wily ways.”

  Rina said, “I’m going to fix myself a snack. Anyone hungry?”

  “You know I’ll eat whatever you bring out,” Decker said. “I’m hopeless.”

  “I’ll fix something healthy.”

  “Not too healthy.”

  “I’ve got some leftover cookies.”

  “Who doesn’t like cookies and coffee?” McAdams said.

  “And there lies the problem.” Decker patted his belly.

  “I’ll be back in five. You can start without me, but then you’ll have to fill me in.”

  “Will do.” Decker turned to McAdams. “Reception wasn’t great, Tyler. Tell me what happened again.”

  He recapped the conversation. “When she asked me out, I should have just said no. What I told her is that when I’m done with finals and the case is resolved, I’d go out with her. And then she kissed me. Twice.”

  “And you don’t think she’s a stalker?”

  “I think she’s way more interested in the hidden papers. She thinks it’s her research and she doesn’t want it getting in the wrong hands. Plus, if I go back, I’d feel like I’m escaping something I should be able to deal with.”

  “Tyler, you’re not even supposed to be here. The case is getting in your way.”

  “No, it’s not.” When Decker gave him a look, McAdams said, “Okay, it is. I’ve spent the last half hour trying to trace her from Exeter to Kneed Loft. It seems she left high school after two years.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know. Could be she started college early. I have a call in to an old math teacher at my school. Maybe he can help because it doesn’t say in her records.”

  “You’re spending way too much time on this. You have to go back to Cambridge anyway in what? Ten days? Just bite the bullet.”

  “Yeah, okay.” McAdams was sulking. “As long as I’m up there, how about if I take Eli’s papers with me and have Dr. Gold look them over.”

  “Perfect. But once you’re there, stay there.”

  “Fine, fine,” McAdams said. “I’ll go back up first thing in the morning.”

  “There should be a five-thirty bus going up to Boston. You have plenty of time to catch it.”

  “I’m too tired to bus it. I’ll rent a car and go in the morning. One day wo
n’t make a difference.”

  Rina came in with the coffee on a tray and looked for a clear spot on the dining room table. She pushed aside a pile and put down the tray.

  McAdams said, “I’ll clear my papers so you can set up for dinner. As a matter of fact, I’ll set the table. I know my way around your kitchen.”

  “Sure, help me out, but please don’t bake. Last time you stayed with us, I gained five pounds.”

  McAdams gave her a sly look. “I was thinking pecan bars.”

  “Don’t you dare. What’s going on?”

  “Tyler is leaving in the morning,” Decker said.

  “Boss’s orders.” The kid made a face. “Where are you off to, Peter?”

  “Kneed Loft. I’ve got an appointment with Eli’s professors.”

  “I’ll come with you,” McAdams said. “Mallon’s interest in the hidden papers has piqued my curiosity. And I’d like to get a better idea of what Eli was actually doing.” When Decker gave him a look, Tyler said, “I promise I’ll leave in the morning.”

  Rina said, “Let him come with you, Peter. It’s probably better than the girl showing up at the house again.”

  “Sure, why not?” Decker shook his head. “Come on. You can take notes on your iPad.”

  “Just like old times.”

  “Don’t get shot.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  EVEN THOUGH IT was cold, they decided to walk. The air was bracing and it woke up Decker’s sluggish mind. It felt good to move, especially after a long car ride. The sky was clear and blue and the sun had melted the thin layer of snow that had fallen yesterday. The two of them had to skip over the numerous water and mud puddles. McAdams had borrowed a hat, and because they were walking quickly, he began to sweat underneath. He took it off and raked his fingers through his overgrown locks. He was squinting in the glare of the sunlight as Decker gave him a detailed recap of the conversation in the Wolf house.

  McAdams said, “Wow. How long was Eli in a coma?”

  “About a week.”

  “Closed head injury. The brain swells and all sorts of things can happen. It accounts for his major personality change.”

  “Yes, I thought about that,” Decker said. “What about his sudden genius? Could brain trauma account for that?”

  “I’m not a doctor, so I don’t know. Offhand, I would think that it’s not going to make a limited thinker into Descartes. But if the family has a predilection for math—and it seems like they do—maybe the changes in his brain enhanced what was already there.”

  “I was looking up brain injuries on my phone during the ride home. Rina was kind enough to drive. There is precedence . . . people after a concussion suddenly emerging from the trauma with an enhanced sense of taste or smell or other things. Sometimes the changes are permanent. But sometimes they’re not.”

  “Depends on the nature of the injury.”

  Decker nodded. “Did you know that GIs get a lot of closed head injuries even if they’re not a hit directly to the head? They wear helmets, and while the headgear protects them from flying debris, it also puts the head in a confined space. The vibrations can rattle the brain. Sometimes their personality changes are due to brain injury rather than the horrors of war.”

  “You’d know more about that than I would.”

  “Yeah, war is very loud. I remember when our pilot was attempting a putdown of the chopper in active fighting: the rotors of the Huey combined with the explosions and the spitfire of the machine guns. You can’t hear yourself think, let alone communicate, which of course is essential. Anyway, that isn’t what happened to Eli. He wasn’t in combat. I’m just thinking that the kid might have been suffering from depression brought on by neurological changes.”

  “Hence the suicide.”

  “I didn’t see any pain meds other than OTC in his dorm room. Certainly no antidepressants. I was looking for them.”

  “Maybe his religion frowns upon their use.”

  “Maybe. We’ll get a tox report from the coroner, even though it’s pretty obvious that the shot to the head was the cause of death. I want to see what the kid had in his system.”

  “Do we have a coroner’s report yet?”

  “I don’t know.” Decker made a quick call to the station house. “The report isn’t in yet. Kevin Nickweed is on it. I didn’t ask for a quick turnaround. That’s standard when you don’t ask for high priority. And this isn’t high priority.”

  McAdams said, “What do you think about Eli sending money to his parents?”

  “Could be he was working for the math department and had no use for the extra money. Or like his father said, maybe it is his way of keeping in contact or atoning for his lack of interest in his family.”

  “On the other hand, if Eli wasn’t working for the math department, maybe he was making money illegally and wanted to shunt it somewhere safe.”

  “I don’t know, McAdams. From what we’ve heard, Eli doesn’t seem like the type to engage in illegal activity.”

  “If he had brain injuries, maybe his inhibitions were lowered.”

  “Sure. But twelve hundred a month seems like a small amount of money to take a risk on screwing yourself up.”

  “What if the twelve hundred was the tip of an iceberg? Like I said, maybe that’s what the hidden papers were about. Some kind of code.”

  “Elijah Wolf, the Mennonite-cum-math-genius-cum-what? Drug dealer?”

  McAdams smiled. “Maybe not drugs, but there are a lot of other illegal shenanigans to get sucked into. We’ve got a guy who’s a whiz at numbers. Maybe he had some kind of blackjack system. There are a lot of Indian casinos up and down the eastern seaboard.”

  Decker thought a moment. “Gambling isn’t illegal. And why give it to his parents? And also, why the consistent amount every month?”

  “Maybe he made a lot more and it’s hidden somewhere. Maybe he gave his parents the same amount to make it look like it was from a job. Or maybe his parents weren’t telling the whole truth.” McAdams became animated. “If he was a gambler, maybe he hooked up with the wrong people. Maybe Eli did something that he thought would tarnish his genius image and felt suicide was the honorable way out. Or maybe he was forced to shoot himself.”

  Decker was quiet.

  “What?” McAdams said.

  “I was just thinking about the death scene. His fingers were curled but he wasn’t holding the gun.”

  “Why is that significant?”

  “There’s a phenomenon when you shoot yourself. If you’re tense when you do it, your fingers get a lock on the gun and go into rigor. It’s called cadaveric spasm. His fingers were curled but he dropped the gun. It isn’t unheard of to drop the gun. It’s just one of those things that you think about if you’re a detective. If he were forced to shoot himself, he’d be tense and he’d be more likely to be gripping the gun. Of course, if he had taken drugs beforehand, it could have relaxed him.”

  “Or given drugs against his will.”

  “So you think his suicide had something to do with getting involved in something criminal?”

  “It happens, right? That seemingly good people go bad.”

  “Of course it happens.”

  “Especially considering that Eli probably had sustained brain injuries.”

  They kept walking. Decker said, “I do like your shenanigans-with-numbers theory. A guy who’s good with formulas could be useful in a number of unsavory activities—counting cards in blackjack, poker playing, bookmaking. He could probably shift the odds in his head at a moment’s notice.”

  “How about this?” McAdams held up a finger. “Automated stock trading. Everyone in that industry is looking for the next big thing in algo trading. Maybe Eli found it.”

  “I like that, Harvard. Do we know if he was working in the industry?”

  “No one has mentioned it.”

  “We haven’t been asking the right questions.” Decker thought a moment. “Twelve hundred a month doesn’t put him in the high
-roller category.”

  “Like I said before: maybe it’s the tip of the iceberg.”

  “Last I heard, automated trading was legal.”

  “It is legal.”

  “Do you know how it works?”

  “In a nutshell, it generates tiny, tiny profits from zillions of automatic trades to produce big profits.”

  “And there are specific firms that specialize in this type of trading?”

  “Usually that’s the case. These firms usually don’t make major markets because they move in and out so fast.” McAdams took out his smartphone and looked up Algo Trading on Wikipedia. “Algo firms break up big institutional trades in major companies into more manageable sizes.”

  “Do they affect the stock prices?”

  “Not as much as you’d think. Algo companies take in relatively small profits compared to the overall market trading, but they are responsible for a large percentage of the market volume. This big-volume trading can lead to a phenomenon known as flash crash if things go awry.”

  “Like that guy in the UK around five years back.”

  “Yeah in 2010. Navinder Sarao. Exactly.” McAdams put away his phone. “I can delve further if you want.”

  “If I need more information on this, I’ll ask you to do it, but only after your finals.”

  “Sure.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “If Eli had hit upon an algorithm that was highly profitable, it might explain why Mallon is so interested in those hidden papers.”

  “It might explain why everyone is so interested: Dean Zhou, Alistair Dixon the RA, and Eli’s professors.”

  “Which professors?”

  “So far we have Theo Rosser, Dean Zhou, and Katrina Belfort all willing to look the papers over under the guise of being helpful.”

  “Where does Katrina Belfort fit in? Who told her about the papers?” McAdams hit his head. “She’s Mallon’s adviser. Did she call you or did you call her?”

  “Belfort, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I called her. She was on Eli’s advisory committee but she had to resign due to other obligations.”

  “Like what?”

  “She didn’t say. I only talked to her for a minute. I’m going to try to catch her this afternoon. I also talked to . . .” He checked his notes. “Dr. Aldo Ferraga. He was also on Eli’s advisory committee. All three of them—Ferraga, Rosser, and Belfort—were pretty shaken up when I spoke to them over the phone.”