The Theory of Death

by Faye Kellerman

  “That brings it up to two calls.”

  “The third call was a mistake. I missed a call at my desk and thought it might be her. That she had changed her mind about talking in person. But she claimed it wasn’t she who had called me. That call lasted fifteen seconds. And, by your own admission, there were no calls beyond that afternoon.”

  “It doesn’t mean you didn’t go over there.”

  “I didn’t kill her.”

  “We’re still not up to that part yet.”

  “Why on earth would I kill her?”

  “Do you want me to answer that?”

  “My wife already knew.”

  That might have been the truth. Katrina had intimated in her e-mails that the wife did know. Decker said, “How did she take it?”

  “Olivia is a mature woman. We Europeans have a different concept of affairs.”

  “If Olivia had such a mature attitude, why try to hide it in the first place. And I read the e-mails, Aldo. You two were sneaking around her all the time.”

  “There’s no need to throw things in her face.” He looked down. “Olivia and I have both . . . experimented from time to time.”

  The professor wouldn’t make eye contact. Decker knew he was telling half-truths. “This wasn’t just an experiment, Aldo. By the depths of your letters, it was clear you were obsessed with Katrina Belfort.”

  “The sex was good, I will admit. But there are always others.”

  “This brings us back to my first question. Why didn’t you tell me about the affair the first time I spoke to you, if you have such a casual attitude toward trysts?”

  “I wasn’t worried about Olivia, I was worried what you would think. And by these questions, I see that my fears have been borne out. It’s a small town with a small-town police department. People jump to conclusions.”

  “It’s not jumping to conclusions, it’s reality. You and Katrina were having sex.”

  No response.

  Decker kept his face flat. “Let’s go over the three phone calls again.”

  “That’s not necessary. Either arrest me or let me go.”

  “I thought you were going to answer all my questions?”

  “Arrest me or let me go.”

  There was only one person in the room who dictated the terms of an interview. “Fine.” Decker stood up and took out a set of handcuffs. “Stand up, please. Aldo Ferraga, you are under arrest for the murder—”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” His face had gone pale. “You can’t be serious.”

  “You gave me the ultimatum. I have no trouble arresting you.”

  “On what basis?”

  “You don’t really want me to answer that.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  Decker pointed to the chair and they both sat down. He said, “Aldo, you could have e-mailed Katrina any questions you had about Mallon, but you chose to call her.”

  “No I couldn’t e-mail Katrina. I was already compromised by telling her my concerns. I didn’t dare put it in writing. It’s not the usual protocol to give feedback before a student defends unless it’s your student. And Mallon wasn’t my student.”

  Decker looked up from his notepad. “Or perhaps you were hoping to curry favor with Katrina by helping Mallon.”

  “I was doing something nice for Katrina and for Mallon. I didn’t expect anything back. And it was the reason why I suggested that Katrina and I meet in person. I didn’t want to discuss this at length over the phone. I don’t believe that anyone was listening in, but I thought it was more prudent to talk face-to-face.”

  “I can believe your first phone call. I can even believe the second one. I’m having a hard time with the third. That you just thought you had a missed call from her.”

  Ferraga fidgeted and looked down.

  “Aldo, this is a murder investigation. I’m sensing that you don’t believe the gravity of the situation. Just tell the truth.”

  “I called her to ask her to reconsider meeting in person. I told her to bring Mallon if she thought my intentions were less than honorable.”

  “Okay.” Decker smiled. “That makes more sense. See how easy that was?”

  Ferraga was silent.

  Decker said, “Katrina still refused?”

  “Yes. I didn’t call her after that and I certainly didn’t meet with her. It was my last interaction with her.” He whispered, “I’m glad I was nice.”

  Decker regarded the man, played the conversation in his head. He was inclined to believe him—so far. “Tell me about the night she died. Where you were and what you were doing.”

  “I told you, I was home the entire time. My wife can vouch for that.”

  “She vouches for you, you vouch for her. I have no way of knowing if either one of you is telling the truth. For all I know, Olivia could have gone over there and had it out with Katrina Belfort.”

  “That is completely ridiculous!”

  “Not from where I’m sitting. I can see her having a heated conversation with your ex-lover and things escalating to the point of disaster. She murders her and then calls you up asking for help to cart her up the mountain.” Decker again leaned over the table. “There might just be a late-night phone call from your wife on the night that Katrina died. Do you mind if I check your cell phone?”

  Ferraga blanched. “You haven’t invaded my privacy enough?”

  “Do you want to clear yourself or not?”

  Ferraga looked at the ceiling. “Shit!”

  Decker leaned back and paused. Then he spoke gently. “What’s wrong, Aldo? Tell me. Get it off your chest. You’ll feel lighter.”

  “I did not kill her!”

  “And your wife?”

  “No, of course not!”

  “And yet you do not want me to see your phone calls?”

  Ferraga took out his phone and gave it to him.

  After scrolling through to find the date, Decker stopped when he reached a number. “You called your house at eleven-fifteen the night Katrina died. What was that about?”

  “I told Olivia I was working late.”

  “You talked for twenty minutes. Telling your spouse you’re working late is a two-minute call.”

  Silence. Decker waited him out.

  Ferraga said, “We had words.”

  “About?”

  “She thought I was with Katrina.”

  “And?”

  “I wasn’t. I was in my office working.” When Decker didn’t respond, Ferraga said, “I do work.”

  “I don’t suppose that there’s anyone out there who saw you in your office?”

  “What do you think?”

  “So now Olivia can’t alibi you even though she did. You both lied. This is a problem.”

  “I loved Katrina!”

  “I don’t doubt that, Aldo. But lots of women are murdered by people who love them.”

  “I didn’t . . .” He slapped his forehead and then he talked with animation. “Dr. Zhou. She has the office right next to mine. She was in her office that night. It must have been close to one.”

  “She saw you at one in the morning in your office?”

  “No, she didn’t see me, but I could certainly hear her. It was her voice. I remember being surprised because I thought she was still away at the Preston conference. She was having words with a man and it got loud. I was concerned. I knocked on her door—which was locked—and asked if everything was okay.”

  “And?”

  “She said she was fine. She apologized for the disturbance. After that, I went back to my work and came home around two-thirty. When I got into bed, Olivia stirred and glanced at the clock. She will tell you that.” When Decker didn’t answer, Ferraga said, “I swear that is the truth.”

  “Are you willing to swear on a polygraph?”

  Ferraga made a face. “Is that really necessary? It isn’t admissible in court, but I suppose you know that.”

  “It helps us rule out people sometimes. And if you’re telling the truth, y
ou shouldn’t have any objections.”

  “I don’t have any objections.” He paused. “I’d like this to be done as discreetly as possible.”

  “I’ll be discreet as long as you show up. So it’s a go?”

  “Yes . . .” Ferraga was resigned. “When would this be?”

  “The polygraph? I could probably set something up tomorrow.”

  “That soon?”

  “Why? Do you need to reflect again?”

  Ferraga’s face held a pained expression. “What time?”

  “Let me call up the examiner and I’ll let you know.”

  “May I leave now?”

  Decker didn’t answer. Instead he said, “So she never opened the door . . . Dr. Zhou.”

  “No. Under the circumstances, I wish she would have. Just ask her.”

  “You said she was arguing with a man.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you hear any of the contents of the argument?”

  “No. I wasn’t eavesdropping. But when it got very loud, I became concerned.”

  “No words at all?”

  “Let me think . . .” He sighed. “Something about a thesis, I believe. Maybe Katrina’s name came up.”

  “Are you saying that for my benefit? To deflect suspicion onto someone else?”

  “You asked me.”

  “Yes, I did. So you heard Dr. Zhou arguing with a man.”

  “Yes.”

  “Any idea who the man was?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re sure you heard Dr. Zhou’s voice.”

  “She answered me when I asked if everything was okay. I assumed it was her. Who else would be in her office?”

  “Did she often have arguments?”

  “Not often.”

  “Occasionally?”

  “I’ve heard her voice get loud now and then. I’m sure I get loud now and then.”

  “Any idea who she has argued with in the past?”

  Ferraga shrugged. “If I knew, I don’t remember now.”

  Decker said, “How did she get along with Rosser?”

  “Why don’t you ask her that question?”

  “I will, but right now I’m asking you. You said that Rosser was a misogynist, so I was wondering about his relationship with Dr. Zhou.”

  “Katrina said Rosser was a misogynist. I did not.”

  “But you said there was some truth in it.”

  Ferraga was getting exasperated. “So far as I knew, Zhou and Rosser got along fine. Their duties were quite different. There wasn’t much . . .” He winced. “Academic competition.”

  “What are Zhou’s duties?”

  “She’s the dean of residency and student life at Kneed Loft.”

  “Does she have tenure?”

  “Of course.”

  “I know she’s in the math department. Does she still teach or publish?”

  “I think her publishing days are behind her.”

  “She still goes to conferences.”

  “She likes to keep current. But she doesn’t care about publishing. She’s a full professor. She’s been with the school longer than Rosser.”

  Decker said, “And you have no idea who she might have been arguing with?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re sure she wasn’t arguing with Rosser?”

  “I’m not positive, but it didn’t sound like his voice.”

  “Did the voice sound familiar?”

  Ferraga gave the question some thought. “If I had to guess—and it is a guess—I’d say she was arguing with a student.”

  “A student?”

  “There was that mention of a thesis. And it didn’t sound like she was talking to a faculty member. She was really dressing him down. Only a student would take that without storming out.”

  “Which students would she be talking to?”

  “It could have been anyone in the college. More likely it was probably one of her RAs who messed up.”

  “You think it was an RA.”

  “I don’t know for certain, but probably.”

  “How many male RAs does she supervise?”

  “I don’t know offhand. Maybe ten.”

  “Was she particularly close to any of them?”

  “I don’t know. Why would I know?”

  “Well, you know more than I do,” Decker said. “Take a guess.”

  Ferraga said, “Lin has a couple of graduate students who also work as RAs—Scott Sumpter and Alistair Dixon.”

  Decker perked up at Dixon’s name. He was the graduate student who had first recognized Eli from the postmortem photo. He was anxious to help when Decker and McAdams first started investigating Eli’s death. “And you didn’t recognize the voice as belonging to either of them?”

  “Maybe Alistair, although I’m not sure. Both of them are bright boys but no geniuses. Otherwise why would they be here for graduate school instead of Princeton or Berkeley?”

  “Elijah Wolf was here.”

  “That’s because his parents refused to let him go anywhere else.”

  Probably the first true statement that had come out of Ferraga’s mouth. Decker handed him back his phone and said, “I’ll set up the polygraph. You’re free to go, but stick close to Greenbury.”

  After Ferraga left, Decker took out his cell and called McAdams. He took out his cell and called McAdams. “How’s the studying coming?”

  “Do you need me? I’m dying to take a break. It’s been three straight hours.”

  “Tell me again why Professor Zhou returned early to Greenbury?”

  “Migraine. That part seems to be true. I talked to several people at the conference who said that Zhou had been complaining of awful headaches the entire time.”

  “What time did she arrive in Greenbury?”

  “Around nine in the evening.”

  “What did she do when she got in?”

  “She said she went home and straight to bed.”

  “Really.” Decker recapped his conversation with Ferraga.

  “So she was lying.”

  “Or Ferraga is lying. We already know he lies. I’m withholding judgment on Zhou until proven guilty.”

  “You’re going to talk to her, right?”

  “Yes, I am. Do you want to come?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  CHAPTER 31

  PACING IN HER meticulously appointed office, Dr. Zhou stomped back and forth in black pumps, her heels clomping on the wooden floor. Her hand was touching her forehead.

  “Yes, I left because of a migraine. I get migraines all the time. This place gives me migraines.” She wore a red knit dress. There was a black blazer hanging on the back of her desk chair. “And yes, Dr. Ferraga did knock on my door at around one in the morning that night . . . what was it, Wednesday? It was the night poor Katrina . . . anyway, he knocked, asking if I was okay. I wasn’t okay, but it was none of his business. By the time I left my office, it was close to daylight. I had a pile of work to catch up on, and since I couldn’t sleep, I thought I might as well clear my desk.”

  Decker nodded. “You left your office around . . . what? Five? Six?”

  “It was almost six. I stopped by Bagelmania and picked up breakfast. Then I went home and attempted a nap, but my head was pounding and I was sick to my stomach. Finally, the medicine kicked in and I came back to my office to finish up my work. After that, I nursed myself at home for two days because I wasn’t supposed to be in town anyway. I turned off the lights, turned off the phone, took a sedative, and slept for two days straight. I didn’t even hear about poor Katrina until the following Saturday when I returned to my office. Then that nonsense with Theo and Lennaeus happened, drawing me out of my cocoon. God, they are morons!”

  “What time did you return to your office on Saturday, Dean Zhou?”

  “Around eleven in the morning.” She sat in her desk chair and opened the drawer. She popped another pill in her mouth. “All this has been terrible for my health. Poor K
atrina. I suppose I’m still in shock.”

  “What do you know about it?”

  “The affair or her demise? I don’t know anything about her death.”

  “But you knew about the affair?”

  “Everyone knew about the affair. No one cared except maybe Aldo’s wife.”

  “What about Theo Rosser?”

  “Yes, he’d care if he knew.”

  “So not everyone knew.”

  “Theo isn’t perceptive when it comes to his faculty and students. I’m left to pick up the pieces. By the way, did you ever find out what was in Elijah Wolf’s math papers?”

  “We did.”

  “Anything significant?”

  “No.”

  She was waiting for more information. Decker changed the subject. “Who were you arguing with the night Katrina died?”

  “Pardon?”

  “When Ferraga knocked on your door and asked if you were all right. Who were you arguing with?”

  “What I was shouting about has nothing to do with poor Katrina. But I’ll answer you anyway. I was arguing with Alistair Dixon. He’s one of my grad students.”

  McAdams glanced at Decker. He said, “We met Alistair when we met you: the night we were asking questions about Elijah’s death.”

  “Yes. Right, of course. I remember now.”

  “What were you two arguing about?”

  “His sloppy work.” She shook her head then regretted the movement. “For God’s sake, this isn’t Princeton. It’s not that hard to get an M.A. We’re not asking for a proof of Fermat’s Theorem, we’re asking for a simple mathematical idea that might be expanded upon in the future.”

  “I thought someone proved Fermat’s Last Theorem,” McAdams said.

  “Andrew Wiles. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Nothing,” Decker said. “What is Alistair Dixon working on?”

  “I can’t tell you that. That would violate his privacy. But you can ask Alistair if you’re so curious.” She realized her tone was sarcastic. “I’m not feeling well. You’ll have to give me a pass if I seem snide.”

  “We’re aware of that,” Decker said. “Thank you for talking to us.”

  Her answer was a dismissive wave.

  “If I name a few possible math topics, could you give me a yes or no?”

  “No, I will not give you a yes or no. But feel free to ask.”