The Theory of Death

by Faye Kellerman

  “Cars can get very dirty, very fast,” Decker said. “But this one doesn’t look like it’s been washed in a long time.”

  McAdams was shivering. “Where’s the Lexus?”

  “Either he’s out or it’s in the garage.”

  “He uses the garage and keeps his wife’s car on the street,” McAdams said. “That sounds like Rosser.”

  Decker rocked on his toes. “It’s ten-thirty at night and Rosser’s not going anywhere. We can deal with him tomorrow. Let’s go check out Ferraga. As a suspect, he’s still right there at the top.”

  The address put them in front of another brick bungalow. This one had a two-car garage. No minivans were parked on the street. Decker pulled up in front of the house, but didn’t get out. He said, “Looks like both cars are garaged.”

  “Meaning between the two of them, it’s more likely to be Ferraga’s minivan than Rosser’s. But since there are gazillions of minivans, we can’t say for sure whose car it was.”

  “Except that it didn’t belong to her neighbor on the right.” Decker cranked up the heat and said, “I was thinking . . .”

  “That’s always dangerous.”

  “Listen to me. Dixon told us there were two coffee cups on the living room table.”

  “Yeah, the ceramic mugs with the faces. Which we did not see when we were in her house.”

  “Someone cleaned up. That’s a given. But if Dixon is to be believed, she was drinking coffee with someone before she was murdered. So what does that sound like to you, McAdams?”

  “She was friendly to whoever showed up.”

  “Friendly . . . cordial . . . civil. If Ferraga would have showed up at past one in the morning—because we know where he was until one in the morning—do you think she would have bothered serving him coffee? Do you think she would have even opened the door?”

  “Yeah, she was pretty fed up with the relationship.”

  “What about Rosser?”

  “Katrina hated him, but he was head of the department. No way she’d have slammed a door in his face.”

  “I agree. She would have invited him in. Do you think she’d have made him coffee?”

  “Like I said, he was the head of the department.”

  “Maybe she would have made him coffee. But do you think she would have served him coffee in cute little ceramic mugs with faces?”

  “Yeah, that sounds a little girlie.” McAdams paused, then said, “Ferraga’s wife, Olivia.”

  “Bingo,” Decker said. “Ferraga admitted having words with his wife around eleven-fifteen in the evening. He swore to her that the affair was over and he really was working late at his office. But it didn’t sound like she believed him.”

  “She goes over to the house to check up on him.”

  “She knocks on the door and Belfort invites her in.”

  “Why would she do that?” McAdams said.

  “I don’t know that she did. But knowing the kind of woman Belfort was, I would think she would have been polite. Maybe Katrina invited Olivia inside because she wanted to apologize. Maybe Olivia asked to look around to make sure her husband wasn’t hiding and Belfort agreed. And they got into an argument and Olivia pushed her.”

  “Would you really sit down and have coffee with your husband’s mistress?”

  “Like Aldo Ferraga said: Olivia Ferraga is from Europe. Civilized women put up with their men’s sexual vagaries.”

  “I suppose, but only up to a point, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I do think. And for Olivia Ferraga, perhaps that point had finally been reached.”

  CHAPTER 35

  FERRAGA ANSWERED THE door, his dark eyes fluttering when he saw who it was. He was dressed in sweats and a cardigan with slippers on his feet. He gave a quick shudder, reacting to the cold air. “Give me a minute.” He closed the door and came back wearing a parka and a scarf. He stepped outside and regarded his watch. “Can’t whatever it is wait until the morning?”

  Decker said, “Actually we came here to talk to your wife.”

  “Olivia?”

  “Yes, Olivia.”

  “Why?”

  “Can we come in? It’s cold.” Decker rubbed his arms to prove the point.

  “I don’t want you upsetting Olivia.”

  “But you must know why we’re here.” Silence. “We have a witness, Aldo. Someone who can put Olivia at Katrina’s house on the night she was murdered.”

  “But that’s impossi—” Ferraga stopped talking.

  “Impossible?” Decker finished the word. “Why would that be impossible?”

  “I will be happy to answer any questions. I will even come to the station house. But please. Do not drag my wife into this.”

  “Unfortunately, she dragged herself.”

  “Do you have an arrest warrant?”

  “No.”

  “Then please leave—”

  The front door opened.

  Olivia was a wraith of a woman with long wavy blond hair, blue eyes, and sunken cheeks. A cable-knit sweater hung on her body; her legs were housed in baggy jeans. She appeared as if she hadn’t eaten in decades. “Please come in.”

  “Olivia—”

  “It’s all right, Aldo. I’ve had enough.” She turned to Decker and McAdams. “Please come in.”

  It was warm inside—stifling after standing in the cold for five minutes. The living room was immaculate and a fire was going in the hearth. Decker said, “Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Ferraga. Actually, we’d like to talk to you at the station house. We’d like to talk to both of you there.”

  “I can come down,” Olivia told them. “But my children are asleep. Aldo must stay.”

  “I’ll call someone to watch them for you.”

  “No.” Olivia shook her head and the mass of tresses that came along with it. “The kids need at least one parent to guide them through life. Aldo will stay until I get back. Just let me get my coat.”

  She turned and walked away. Ferraga said, “This is outrageous!” His cheeks were red. “I’m calling my lawyer right now!”

  Decker heard his rant, but didn’t answer. Olivia’s odd words were picking his brain.

  The kids need at least one parent to guide them through life.

  “Shit!” Decker slapped his face. “Do you own guns, Ferraga?”

  “Oh God!” Ferraga ran to the bedroom and jiggled the locked knob. He pounded on the door and shouted, “Olivia, open up!” A pause and more banging. “Open up!”

  “Move aside.” Decker rammed his shoulder into the door. With McAdams’s help, they splintered the wood. The hole was just big enough for Decker’s hand to slip through. He unlocked the door and swung it open.

  She stood there with a gun pointed at her temple.

  “Olivia, drop the gun.” Decker took a half step backward so as not to crowd her space. “Please don’t hurt yourself. You have children. They need a mother. They need you. Drop the gun.”

  “I’m useless to them now.”

  “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Children can’t live without their mother. You know that. We both know who the real parent is. Put the gun down. We all know it was an accident. There is a better solution.”

  The barrel was still touching her temple. Abruptly, she shifted positions, her arm coming forward, aiming the barrel of the gun toward Ferraga’s chest. In an instant, Decker jumped on top of Ferraga, bringing him down to the floor just as the gun exploded. A bullet sang through the air, going over their heads. At the same instant, McAdams charged Olivia’s legs, knocking her over with the gun going off a second time before it finally skittered to the floor. Decker lunged toward the gun and grabbed the grip. Still on the floor, he opened the chamber and pulled out the bullets. He stood up and, with shaking hands, pocketed the bullets. Tyler was still wrestling with Olivia. His expensive cashmere coat had been ripped at the right shoulder, with the tear oozing blood. Decker got the woman facedown on the floor with her hand behind her back. “I’ll need a b
elt.”

  McAdams complied and ripped it off his pants. He handed it to Decker. Suddenly his shoulder felt like it was on fire. He touched it and regarded his fingertips. “Fuck.” He winced. “Lightning really does strike twice.”

  Decker shouted as he secured her wrists. “Ferraga, call an ambulance.”

  A teenage boy came into the room, dazed and scared. “What’s going on?”

  Ferraga said, “Go back to sleep, Tommaso.”

  “What’d you do to her this time?” the boy screamed.

  “Go back to bed!” Ferraga screamed.

  “You tried to kill her, you bastard!”

  Decker said, “Will someone call an ambulance now!”

  “Tommaso, go back to bed or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?”

  Decker stood and brought Olivia to her feet. “Son, go back to your room now! We need to sort this out and you’re getting in the way.”

  Olivia smiled angelically at her son. “I’m fine, Tommaso. Please do as the policeman says.”

  Reluctantly, the furious boy went back to his room and slammed the door. To Ferraga, Decker yelled, “Did you call an ambulance?”

  “Don’t bother.” McAdams rotated his shoulder. “It’s just a graze. I mean it hurts, but I’ll be fine. The bullet must be somewhere in the room. I’ll get Forensics on it.”

  “You need an ambulance, Tyler,” Decker said.

  “I’m fine. We need a team down here. They’re going to ask questions since a firearm was discharged. I’ll take care of it, Decker.” McAdams picked up his cell and went into the corner to talk. Then he hung up. “They’ll be down ASAP. You can take her down to the station house—”

  Ferraga blurted out, “I’m coming with her. I’m bringing a lawyer.” To Olivia, he said, “Don’t admit anything until you’ve talked to him.”

  Olivia sneered at her husband. “You’re in no position to tell me what or what not to do.”

  “I’ll handle Forensics,” McAdams said. “With a shooting, Radar will probably come down.”

  “You need to get that looked at, Tyler.”

  “After we’ve got this sorted out,” McAdams said. “I’m okay. Actually, I’m real pissed. She ruined my coat.”

  What McAdams had said made perfect sense. The kid was remarkably sanguine. The captain would come down and he would certainly be able to direct everything. Decker’s heartbeat still had yet to come down. Adrenaline was pounding through his veins, making him jittery. He was definitely too old for this. “You need to have a doctor check you out.”

  “It’s just a little blood—”

  “Tyler—”

  “I’ll get it taken care of, but it’s not serious. If I can say that without fainting, you know I’m telling the truth.” Someone was thumping at the door. “It’s our backup. I’ll get it.”

  With Olivia’s arms behind her back, Decker led her to the front door with Ferraga in tow.

  “Don’t say anything, Olivia.” When she didn’t answer, Ferraga implored, “Please, don’t say anything.”

  Her reaction was to turn her face away.

  Decker briefed the two uniformed officers. Afterward, he blew out air and looked at Tyler. “So you’ll take it from here until Radar comes down?”

  “I said I would.” He winced.

  “You’re in pain.”

  “I was shot, so yes I’m in pain. But I’m okay. I swear. Go.”

  Decker regarded the kid’s eyes. He felt his voice choke up. “Risky move there, Harvard, taking her down with a gun in her hand. But knowing where she was pointing, I sincerely thank you for it.” A pause. “Thank you, thank you, and thank you.”

  “All in a day’s work.” He winced again. “Just don’t pat me on the shoulder for a while.”

  FACE-TO-FACE IN THE interview room, Olivia rubbed her wrists and said, “Thank you for taking off the belt.”

  Decker said, “Do you want some water?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Anything to eat?”

  “Nothing.”

  Given her physical appearance, food was probably not a top priority. Decker turned on the tape machine and tested it. When he saw that it was working, he identified himself and Olivia Ferraga, and gave the time, date, and the location. He turned his attention to her.

  “Would you like to start from the beginning?”

  “Aldo said I should ask for a lawyer, but first I want to hear what you have to say.”

  “We have CCTV cameras,” Decker lied. “We know it’s your van parked outside Dr. Belfort’s house. We know where Aldo was at that hour. So we know it was you who drove over there. And we have a witness.”

  Olivia looked down. “I don’t know what to do. Should I ask for a lawyer?”

  She had an ever-so-slight Italian accent. Decker said, “We know it was an accident, Olivia. There are mitigating circumstances. You’re a good woman and a great mother.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I know who’s been running the household while Aldo runs around. It’s obvious.” She was quiet. Decker leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Good people can have accidents—terrible accidents. Just tell me what happened.”

  She sighed. “Things happen.”

  “Yes, they do.”

  “I did not mean to hurt your partner, for instance.”

  “I know.”

  “He came at me. It was an accident.”

  “I realize that.”

  “Are you going to charge me?”

  “I’d like to talk about Katrina Belfort first.”

  She hesitated. “What’s to talk about?”

  “Why did you go there in the first place?”

  “To see if Aldo was telling me the truth. To see for myself if he was there.”

  “Around what time was that?”

  She looked down. “I’m a terrible mother.”

  “How can you say that? Your son obviously adores you.”

  “I left them alone.”

  “When you went to Katrina’s house, you mean?”

  “Yes.” She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “I left them alone!”

  “How old’s your son?”

  “Fourteen.”

  “He’s old enough to babysit. You wouldn’t be charged for anything.”

  “Maybe not legally. Morally I was negligent.”

  “Olivia, what time did you go to Katrina Belfort’s house?”

  “You have CCTV cameras. You should know.”

  “I do know. I want to hear it from you.”

  She was quiet. Decker waited her out.

  “Around eleven-thirty,” she said.

  Finally. Now that she had put herself at the scene, Decker knew the rest would eventually follow. “Go on. What happened next?”

  “I didn’t see Aldo’s car. But that means nothing. Sometimes he walks from his office to her house. I know because I’ve followed him. He is so dense, he never even noticed. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care.”

  “I understand. So you showed up at Katrina Belfort’s house at eleven-thirty in the evening. What happened next?”

  “I knock on her door.”

  Her face grew flat, devoid of emotion. She seemed to be replaying the events in her head.

  “She opens the door. I ask her if Aldo is there and she says no. I ask her if I can look around and she says yes and she invites me in.”

  Recited in present tense. “Good,” Decker said. “You go into the house. And then?”

  “I look around. Aldo is not there. I’m going to leave, but she asks me if I want coffee. Like we’re friends having social time together. So casual. At that moment, I hated her even more, which was silly. If it wasn’t her, it would be someone else. Stupid man.”

  “But you sat down with her anyway.”

  “Yes. It was a mistake.” She rubbed her wrists again. “A big mistake. I should have left. But curiosity got the better of me. Who is this woman and why is she dating a married man? Is she s
orry? Does she feel shame? I wanted to know.”

  The room was quiet.

  “We talked. She was quite charming. I might have liked her in a different situation, but her affable nature made it worse.”

  “How did the conversation begin?”

  “A little of this and a little of that. Then she looks me in the eye. She apologizes for her bad behavior. There is no sincerity in it.”

  “Okay.”

  “She tells me it’s over and that it won’t happen ever again. But I don’t believe her. Why should I believe her? I tell her that. I say, ‘Why should I believe you?’ ”

  “I understand.”

  “She keeps at it—repeating herself—it’s over, it’s over. Then she says . . .” Her face grew hard. “Then she says to me that she’s no longer interested in Aldo. That he means nothing to her. Anything that she has ever felt for him has vanished. Discarding Aldo like he is spoiled milk!”

  “That made you mad.”

  “Furious! I know she is lying. That she really does love him. Like I love him. So I tell her that. That she is lying. That it is Aldo who doesn’t want her. That she can’t have him.” Tears fell down her cheeks. “She kept saying she doesn’t want him. She didn’t want him! I remain faithful to him for eighteen years, loving him all that time, and that whore doesn’t want him. I tell her I don’t believe her. Then do you know what happened?”

  “Tell me.”

  “She got up and said, ‘You can believe whatever you want. Just make sure your goddamn husband stays away from me. Otherwise I’ll take out a restraining order.’ That whore seduces him away from his wife and then has the nerve to threaten him with a restraining order?”

  “Outrageous.”

  “It was mean-spirited and unforgivable. I push her. I said, ‘You wouldn’t dare.’ She pushes me back and says that she would. So I push her again.” She stopped talking.

  “Go on, Olivia. I want to hear it all. Tell me exactly what happened.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “I know it was. But you need to tell me how it occurred.”