Read The Theory of Death Online
Authors: Faye Kellerman
Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Thrillers, #Suspense
The Theory of Death (31 page)
“You want an Advil?”
“Two, please. I thought your hearing goes as you age.”
“Not fast enough apparently.” Rina laughed. “My head is ringing.”
“The boys are adorable but they talk over each other, and as they do, their voices get louder and louder.”
“That’s good. Then their teammates will be able to hear them across the court.”
“Yeah, what was that all about, making lists of colleges?”
“Koby’s just fantasizing. It’s easier to do that than realize how vulnerable the little ones are and how helpless you are as a parent.”
“Yeah, you’re right. You usually are.”
“Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed his chilled cheek. Decker took her gloved hand in his own mitten. As they walked back to the car, no romantic words were needed. Being together was enough.
RINA DROVE AS
Decker checked his phone messages. “Finally!”
“Good news?”
“Yes.” He stowed his phone in his jacket pocket. “The tech got into the computer and pulled transcripts from two of Belfort’s e-mail accounts. I was all set to get a warrant for the servers, but this saves me time, aggravation, and best of all, it may actually help break the case.”
Decker checked his watch. It was almost eight. They wouldn’t get back into Greenbury until eleven. But this couldn’t afford to wait.
“I’m going to have to work late. I could bring the transcripts home, but honestly it’s easier for cross-referencing to work at my desk.”
“It’s fine, Peter. Do what you need to do.”
“Promise me you won’t wait up. I might pull an all-nighter.”
“Not a problem, although I’ll miss you.”
“You’ll be sleeping.”
“I can feel when you’re there and when you’re not. Your aura is all around.”
“More like my weight when I move around. Are you okay with driving home?”
“Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m positive. Take a nap, Peter. Rest your brain until it’s needed.” Rina slowed the car and squinted out the window. “I think that’s her.” She pulled in front of a purple-flagged NYU building and a swaddled Mallon hopped in the backseat.
“Where’s Tyler?” she asked while rubbing her shoulders.
Rina said, “We’re getting him now. Do you want me to turn up the heat?”
“Yeah. I’m freezing. It’s freezing outside.”
“How long were you waiting?”
“Five minutes. You’re driving, Rina?”
“I am.”
“If you need a replacement, I do have my license.”
“I’m fine, but I’ll keep it in mind.”
Fifteen minutes later, Tyler came out and opened the front passenger door. When he saw Decker in his seat, he got in the back next to Mallon. “You’re driving, Rina?”
“Yes, I am. It seems to be a rather big deal. I’m from L.A. We drive a lot there.”
“I’m just used to him driving. No offense meant.”
“I want to take a nap,” Decker said. “I have some work to do tonight.”
“What kind of work?” McAdams asked.
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
“I’ll plug my ears if you want,” Mallon said.
Decker ignored her. “You and Rina go back to the house. You need your rest.”
“If you work, I’ll work. I can also nap while Rina drives.”
“Everyone can nap,” Rina said. “I’m wide-awake after three cups of coffee.”
“Well, I’m not tired,” Mallon answered.
“Then you’re lucky that napping is not a requirement for passage home,” Rina said.
Decker stifled a laugh, leaned back, and threw his scarf over his eyes. Within twenty minutes, all three of them were out. Rina didn’t mind. She found the silence was a welcome friend.
THE PILE ON
his desk was thick with paper and topped with a note.
More to come.
Decker leafed through the pages. He glanced at McAdams, who was sitting at his desk and literally twiddling his thumbs. It was almost eleven-thirty. “I’m really fine doing this by myself.”
McAdams said, “I’m
wait … ing
.”
Decker gave up being Mr. Nice Guy. He could use the help. “I’ll take her Gmail account as well as her kneedloft.edu messages and you go through her Hotmail. I think there are IMs as well as e mails.”
He plopped a stack of papers onto McAdams’s desk. It didn’t take too long. Ten minutes later, McAdams said, “Whoa! Inappropriate.”
Decker looked up. “What?”
“Hold on, hold on.” McAdams read for another thirty seconds in silence. “And getting more inappropriate by the moment. These are IMs from Belfort to Aldo Ferraga.”
“Ferraga?”
“Yeah, Ferraga. I wonder how he hacked into her IMs. I didn’t know you could do that. I thought they weren’t retrievable.”
“The wonders of modern technology. What does it
say,
McAdams?”
“Oh … sorry. It starts out with flirtation but evolves into something pretty darn steamy. See for yourself.” He handed Decker around ten pages of transcription.
Ferraga:
Great lunch … great conversation. Let’s do it again sometime.
Belfort:
Let’s.
Next day.
Ferraga:
Free for lunch?
Belfort:
Coffee at 3? My office?
Ferraga:
See you then.
Next day.
Ferraga:
Can’t stop thinking about you.
Belfort:
Hmm … sounds intriguing
.
Ferraga:
When can I see you?
Belfort:
Not today.
Ferraga:
When?
Belfort:
I’ll get back to you.
Next day.
Ferraga:????
Belfort:
Not today. Rosser’s on my back.
Ferraga:
I hope that isn’t literal.
Belfort:
Ferraga:
When?
Belfort:
I’m pretty tied up.
Ferraga:
I hope that is literal.
Belfort:
lol. If you’re desperate, you can drop by my house tomorrow. It’ll have to be late.
Ferraga:
How late?
Belfort:
Around 11.
Ferraga:
I’ll be there.
Belfort:
ttyl.
Apparently it was more than just talk.
Ferraga:
I need to see you again.
Belfort:
You mean you need to fuck me again.
Ferraga:
Why are you Americans so unromantic?
Belfort:
Are you complaining?
Ferraga:
No, of course not. But I’d like to think of it as more than just a fuck. But if it was just a fuck to you, I will accept that.
Belfort:
Of course, it was just a fuck. You’re married. But it was a very good fuck.
Ferraga:
It was sublime.
Belfort:
Ferraga:
When can I see you again?
And so on and so forth. It was the same thing for several more pages with increasingly raunchier language and graphic descriptions of body parts.
McAdams said, “Anything on your end?”
“I’ve been reading her Kneed Loft correspondence, which mostly consists of indecipherable math and a lot of meetings. Rosser and Belfort find it hard to be civil even in school-related e-mails. Most of the time, it has this underpinning of hostility.”
“Like what?”
“Give me a minute. Okay, it’s like this note here. They’re talking about a faculty meeting. Rosser ends it by saying ‘this time please be punctual’ followed by three boldface exclamation points.”
“Did she respond?”
“She wrote: ‘I’m always punctual if given the
correct
information.’ At one point, she was probably reprimanded for being late. The hostility between them is in sync with what we’ve been told. Your exchanges are definitely the more interesting.”
Decker got up and stood behind McAdams, reading over his shoulder. The kid looked up. “Excuse me?”
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“And if I did?”
“I’d just take the pages from you. This way we can read it together and save some time.”
McAdams pulled up a chair. “Sit down. I’ll put the stuff in the middle.”
The two of them read in silence for a few minutes. McAdams read faster and kept passing the pages to Decker, who had pulled out his pad and started taking notes. Then McAdams said, “Look at this.”
“What? Where?”
“Here. It’s a variation on the same theme except she’s starting to lose interest … at least that’s how I see it.” He handed Decker the pages.
Ferraga:
Same time?
Belfort:
Not tonight.
Ferraga:
Why?
Belfort:
I can’t.
Ferraga:
Why. I miss you. I want you.
Belfort:
Not going to work tonight. I think Rosser’s onto us. Did you say anything?
Ferraga:
Of course not!
Belfort:
Maybe your wife?
Ferraga:
She doesn’t know a thing. Why do you think either one is onto us?
Belfort:
I don’t know about your wife. Rosser’s been a real shit this past week. He’s totally fucking me over because Eli has the nerve to want to change advisers. If you want to get me in the sack, get Rosser off my back. Tell him it wasn’t my idea for Eli to request the change. I’ve told him about a billion times, but he doesn’t believe me.
Ferraga:
It would look suspicious if I suddenly started defending you on something trivial.
She didn’t react defensively. Instead, she was eminently practical.
Belfort:
You’re right. Tell him Eli also asked you to be his adviser and you also turned him down. Tell him that and maybe it’ll dawn on him that I’m not trying to steal his students even if that’s what the student wants.
Ferraga:
But it’s not true. Eli never approached me.
Belfort:
So fucking lie. You must be good at that by now.
Ferraga:
You’re getting emotional about this. Just calm down. Let’s talk and we’ll figure out the best strategy.
Belfort:
I’ve already figured out a good strategy. You just have to have the balls to pull it off!
Ferraga:
Let me come over tonight and we’ll think of something.
Belfort:
Aldo, you don’t seem to understand. I’m stressed out about this. He’s threatening to
report
me for something I didn’t do. I keep telling him that but he doesn’t believe me.
Ferraga:
Rosser can be a jackass.
Belfort:
So if you know that, tell him that Eli asked you to be his adviser or, at the very least, tell him you heard that Eli was talking to other professors … not just me. We both know that’s true. He’s been talking to Tolvard in physics.
Ferraga:
What about?
Belfort:
Who cares? Don’t get distracted. All I’m saying is if Rosser knows there’s another full tenured professor in my court, he’ll probably back down … Please?
Ferraga:
Katy, you can be quite emotional. But I do care about you, so I’ll see what I can do.
Belfort:
Can you do it today? I know you’re meeting with him at four.
Ferraga:
How do you know that?
Belfort:
I have my ears to the wall all the time. That’s what happens when the chairman of the department hates your guts. Are you going to help me or not?
Ferraga:
Are you going to fuck me or not?
Belfort:
You come through, and then I’ll come through.
Ferraga:
You’re a whore.
Belfort:
No, I’m not a whore. I just don’t have tenure yet.
Ferraga:
I meant it as a compliment.
Belfort:
No you didn’t, but I took it as a compliment. Call me whatever you like: bitch, cunt, whore, slut … just come the fuck through for me. See you toight at eleven.
McAdams blew out air. “She certainly wasn’t sensitive when it came to pejoratives.”
“Words weren’t the problem,” Decker said. “It was sticks and stones that got her in the end.”
G
OING THROUGH STACKS
of Belfort’s e-mails, Decker paused as his eyes landed on a specific text. He said, “Harvard, listen to this.” He read out loud.
