The Theory of Death (24 page)

“We have our suspicions about the extra project,” McAdams said. “And Eli wasn’t the only one working on it.”

“So you know about this? What was it? That stochastic whatever you said?”

“Maybe that, maybe something else,” Decker said. “Anything else that he confessed to you?”

“It wasn’t a confession … exactly,” Jacob said. “He told me that there was this girl and she brought him into something. But he didn’t want anyone to know about it because it could mess up his scholarship and he didn’t want to create problems. Whatever it was, he didn’t want Mom and Dad to know about it. Especially the girl part.”

“Why’s that?”

“Once you mention a girl in this community, it creates all sorts of talk.”

“Did he mention the girl’s name?” McAdams said.

“No. I asked him but he wouldn’t say. He said she wasn’t important. Just that she spurred his interests in other directions and that’s why he was unhappy with his teacher. But he couldn’t say anything to his teacher because he might lose his scholarship. So he was working on his own.”

“Did he ask you for advice?”

“No …” He shook his head. “I did tell him to follow his heart and his conscience and the rest would be okay. Obviously, it wasn’t okay. He killed himself.” A long pause. “He didn’t know what he was doing when he did it. He wasn’t in his right mind.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“I knew he wasn’t all there. I should have been more vigilant.”

“These kinds of things are almost impossible to anticipate and even harder to stop.”

The kid let out a sigh. “I suppose I should have told you about the papers the last time you were here, Detective. But then we didn’t know if Eli was murdered or not. And there wasn’t a good time to give them to you. And then I forgot about it.” Jacob looked down. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure you had many other things on your mind,” Decker said.

“Maybe.” He stood up. “I’ll get them for you. But don’t mention it to my parents. I don’t want them to think that Eli and I had secrets from them even though we did.”

Decker turned to Tyler. “Go with him. In case his mother comes out.”

A minute later, the women returned to the dining room. Rina was holding a salad bowl. Ruth Anne held a plate of sizzling chicken breasts. She said, “Where did everyone go?”

“Your husband went down to pick up the mail and get a crate of oranges from Florida that just came into the co-op.”

“Where’s Jacob?”

“Washing up. He’ll be back in a moment.”

“Well, if Ezra wants to eat cold meat, that’s his problem.” She sat down and forked a chicken breast for herself. “I’m not going to wait.”

Jacob and Tyler returned to the table. “Hi, Mom.”

“It seems your father took off on one of his jaunts.” She passed him the plate. “Help yourself.”

“It’s been hard for him,” Jacob said.

“And it isn’t hard for me?”

“Of course, Mom.”

The table fell silent. Ruth Anne said, “I don’t know why I’m being peckish with you.”

“It’s fine.” He gave her the salad bowl.

Ruth Anne huffed to herself. Then she said, “Where are my manners? Can I get anyone a fresh pot of coffee?”

“We’re all fine,” Rina said. “Eat, Ruth Anne. It smells good.”

“Next time you come, I’ll get a separate pan and a kosher chicken. Then you can eat with us.”

“I’ll take you up on it.”

“Like there’ll be a next time.” Ruth Anne shook her head. “This wasn’t exactly a social call.”

Rina leaned over and looked the faded woman in the eye. “My husband and I just moved into this part of the country a little over a year ago. I will take any friend who wants me as long as you reciprocate and come down to visit me.”

“I don’t think I’ve left this area in over a year.”

“Well, maybe it’s time for a road trip. You’re an hour away from me.”

“I just have so much to do.” She looked at Rina. “Why don’t you come up in the fall when it’s jam time. Do you do jam?”

“I do jam.”

Ruth Anne smiled. “We do get wonderful fruit from the orchard. And there’s lots of fresh produce from the co-op. I could sign you up for the co-op. But you’ll have to pay if you don’t bring anything to barter with.”

“I pay the supermarkets. I’d rather pay you. Thank you.”

The door opened and closed. Ezra was carrying a crate of oranges. On top of the crate were two bouquets of flowers. “I’ll put the crate in the kitchen. One of these is for you, Ruthie.”

A genuine smile formed on her lips. “They’re lovely. I’ll put them in a vase.” She looked at Jacob. “The other one must be for you.”

Jacob glared at his father. “I’m capable of buying my own flowers, Dad.”

“Thought I’d save you the trouble.” Ezra’s face was expressionless. “Go on. Put them in water or else they’ll dry up.”

Ruth Anne said, “I’ll do it for him. You sit and eat your lunch. And don’t blame me if it’s cold.”

“First I got to put the oranges in the kitchen,” Ezra said.

“I’ll take it.”

“It’s too heavy for you.”

“Fine. Come in the kitchen and set it down. Do you have the mail?”

“Yeah, I have the mail. It’s in my pocket.”

The two of them disappeared into the kitchen. Jacob shook his head, then he laughed. “Now you see why Eli didn’t want me mentioning a girl. Someone in the community and I have been going out for two months and they’re already planning a wedding. Jeez!”

“It’s a parent’s prerogative to meddle.” Decker smiled.

“They certainly think so.” Jacob picked up a forkful of chicken and chewed it down. “Ah well. With this mess, there’s certainly been enough rain in their lives. I suppose it won’t hurt me to give them a drop of sunshine now and then.”

A
S THE CAR
edged into Cambridge—traffic was always heavy in Boston—Rina noticed a thinning of the conversation up front. Tyler had drawn inward, as if the mere presence of the university had sucked the life from him. It was all the more puzzling because Harvard was the only college that McAdams had ever known. Perhaps the institution was the embodiment of his father’s authority—odd because Jack McAdams had gone to Duxbury, one of the five colleges of upstate. Apparently Peter noticed Tyler’s silence as well.

“You look thrilled to be back,” he said.

“Over the moon,” McAdams said.

Rina said, “Harvard is one of the finest universities in the world. You should feel privileged to be a part of that.”

“Everyone here feels privileged, and not in a good way,” McAdams said. “Go to graduation, Rina. Hear the valedictories. ‘Since we’re so brilliant and privileged and special, it’s now our responsibility to shoulder the burden of leadership and guide the planet to a better place.’ They’d be appalled to realize that they’re restating TR’s White Man’s Burden.”

“Somebody’s not happy about upcoming finals,” Decker said.

“I’m right here, Old Man. No need to talk in third person. And I still have over a week to study, FYI.”

Rina said, “I know the guys at the station house kid you, but they’d all trade places with you given a chance.”

“Oh, come on, Rina,” Decker said. “Seriously? Why on earth would any of us trade a life of paramilitary bureaucracy and endless paperwork for the rarefied gift of brilliance and opportunity?”

McAdams said, “Privilege is not what it’s cracked up to be.”

Decker said, “Neither is the noble workingman, Bruce Springsteen. Idealized things seldom are. There’s no harm in getting a law degree, Tyler. You can even do some good with it. Even I learned a great deal by going to law school.”

“You can stop right there, Old Man. You’re sounding like my dad.” McAdams paused. “Although if you were my dad, you’d be screaming instead of speaking. My life is fine. I’m just bitching right now because I’d rather be working on Katrina Belfort’s case. I can study at your place. I don’t see why I can’t stick around to see it through.”

“Because it could take a lot of time and you’re distracted at our house.”

“I’ll be even more distracted wondering what’s going on. I know you think it’s debatable, but I am a grown man.”

“Honestly, Tyler, I don’t want this case screwing up your schooling.”

No answer. The car turned quiet. Rina looked out the window. Near the university, Cambridge was a mixture of quaint clapboard bungalows, small, colorful Victorian houses, and soulless, cheap apartment buildings that housed students as well as local residents. The streets held the typical college stores and clothing outlets along with lots of fast food in lots of ethnic varieties. The co-op was the official Harvard bookstore that featured almost as many insignia items as it featured textbooks and school supplies. There were some good restaurants and a half-dozen places to stay for parents visiting overnight as well as guests of the university. The Inn at Harvard sat on the edge of campus, fashioned in brick with evenly spaced windows, a semicircular roofline, and a redbrick pathway that led up to the door: a modern take on a Federal style with a hint of Amsterdam thrown into the mix. The town was a mishmash, but it worked nicely.

The campus was also a combination of old and new architecture, the buildings interspersed among wide lawns currently covered in snowdrifts. Since it wasn’t raining or snowing, students were everywhere, huddled in their parkas, trudging from place to place with heavy boots on their feet. Parking was always a problem, but Peter lucked out, snagging a space after a car pulled out.

McAdams said, “I’m leaving my stuff in the trunk of your car, Peter. I don’t want to schlepp it with me.”

“Where do you live? Are you on campus?”

“No, I’m in an apartment that reeks of eye-watering kimchi because my neighbors are Korean. Nice people, but you get tired of the smell. It wafts through the rather thin walls and settles into my clothing.”

“At least you won’t be attacked by a vampire.”

“Nonsense.” McAdams slammed the door shut. “This place is filled with bloodsuckers, and garlic hasn’t stopped any of them.”

It was a short walk to the math building. Professor Mordechai Gold had a spacious, wood-paneled corner office, the walls covered with degrees, awards, and certificates. The bookshelves were overflowing with reference material. The floors were covered with authentic Persian carpets. The place was big enough for a sofa and a few chairs as well as Dr. Gold’s enormous desk. He had prepared for their arrival with coffee and cookies.

“They’re kosher,” he told Rina. “Sit, sit.”

“How’s the family?” Rina asked.

“Great. It’s nice to see everyone again. Certainly the circumstances are better … well, maybe not for you. I heard about Professor Belfort’s demise. That’s just terrible. Can I ask what happened?”

“Single gunshot wound to the head.”

“God, that’s terrible. Was she depressed or … should I not be asking questions.”

“It’s fine.” Decker sat down on one end of the sofa, McAdams sat on the other end, and Rina was in the middle. “We haven’t received the coroner’s report, but we’re treating it as a suspicious death.”

“Murder?”

“Yes, but that’s not official.”

“Oh my goodness. That makes it even worse.” Gold turned to Rina. “At least you’re doing okay, right?”

“No overt interference from our friends overseas, if that’s what you’re asking,” Rina told him. “We do find a hidden electronic bug from time to time. I don’t mind when they’re in the kitchen or living room. It feels a little weird when we find one in the bedroom. How do they get in to place them with the alarm on?”

“The spooks have their ways,” Gold told her. “Don’t worry. Eventually they give up.”

“They should,” Rina said. “We’re just not that interesting.”

Gold smiled. “Coffee? Tea? Hot water? I’m taking some tea myself.”

“What do you have?” Rina sorted through the tea bags and pulled out mint-flavored and gave it to him. “I can fix it.”

“I’ll do it. You’re in my house. How are you, Tyler? How’s law school. Isn’t it finals time?”

“It is. I was studying at the Deckers’ house. It’s quieter and the food is better. But then someone decided to kick me out.”

“He’s getting overly involved in a police matter when he should be studying,” Decker said.

“Not overly involved … just involved.”

Gold poured Rina tea. “What can I pour for you two gentlemen?”

“I’m fine,” Decker said. “Tyler?”

“I’m okay. I know you’re a busy man, Professor.” McAdams opened a briefcase. “This is regarding that case I shouldn’t be involved with.”

“Belfort?”

“Yes.” McAdams took out a set of papers. “We downloaded these off her computer. If you wouldn’t mind, could you take a look and tell us what you think?”

Gold took the pages and flipped through them. “What am I looking for?”

“We’re just interested in what you have to tell us about them,” Decker said.

“They’re Fourier transforms. Without knowing the context, I can’t tell you what she was analyzing. You know what Fourier transforms are?”

“Changing a function of time to a function of frequency,” McAdams said. “Could she have been using the math to track the momentum of the stock market?”

“As a stochastic oscillator? Sure. It also could be a thousand other things.” He continued to flip through the pages. “It’s certainly nothing earth-shattering.”

“No new ideas?”

“None at all. I mean she could have been using these particular formulas in a novel way, but the analysis is basic upper-division math.”

“So it’s nothing worth murdering over,” Decker said.

“The math isn’t, God no.” Gold handed the papers back to McAdams. “Do you know if she was tracking the market?”

“According to her students, she was consulting to several high-worth money managers using a unique algorithm. So that would seem likely.”

“So there you go,” Gold said.

“But the math isn’t a big deal?”

“Put it this way.” Gold chuckled. “She isn’t going to win the Fields Medal.”

“Thanks,” McAdams said. “These pages here were given to a math student’s brother for safekeeping. Later, that student committed suicide.”

Gold took the papers. “Yes, I heard something about that as well. What a terrible tragedy. What was his name?”