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Authors: Faye Kellerman

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The Theory of Death (33 page)

BOOK: The Theory of Death
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“Too bad about that, Harvard,” Decker said. “It’s the price you pay for a photo on the piano.”

CHAPTER 30

Y
OU HAD TO
know it would come out.”

“Yes, I knew.” Under his breath, Ferraga whispered something unintelligible.

“Excuse me?” Decker said. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I said I’m not an idiot.”

“No one thinks you’re an idiot. I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell me when we first spoke.”

“It is an error of omission. I haven’t lied about anything.”

“That remains an open question,” Decker said.

Ferraga’s lips pursed, marring his good looks. He had a good head of curly hair and regular features with eyes that were constantly in motion—scanning the small interview room, up at the ceiling then down at the table. He sneaked a quick glance at Decker, and then another at the tape recorder, until his eyes rested on his clasped hands. He wore a white shirt, a brown corduroy jacket with patch pockets, and dark brown pants: very professorial, even down to the sneakers on his feet. He said, “I knew you’d think the worst. I needed time to reflect before I said anything.”

“You’ve been reflecting for five days.” Decker leaned over the table. They were sitting in one of the two interview rooms at the station house. “What have you come up with?”

His eyes met Decker’s. “If you want to nose into my affairs, I will answer your questions.”

“That’s good because I’m going to ask you questions. I’m investigating a murder. So why don’t you stop stalling and start at the beginning.”

“The beginning of the affair?”

“Yes. How did it start?”

A deep sigh. “It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

Ferraga’s e-mails to Belfort sounded anything but regretful. In fact, they suggested that he wanted more, and more often. He was slow to get the initial words out, but once he started talking, he laid out their relationship with a bantam cock’s strut, adding more detail than was necessary. Decker already knew the dates and times from Belfort’s communications, but he wanted to hear Ferraga’s story to see if his times and dates roughly matched. According to him, their final breakup date was a week before Belfort’s death.

“You didn’t see her after that?”

“Of course I saw her. She worked down the hall from me. But our communication after that was strictly professional.”

Decker said, “We have phone calls between the two of you the afternoon before she died.”

“If you say so.”

“It’s not what I say, it’s what her phone records say.”

Ferraga suddenly looked defeated. “I did not
kill
her.”

“We’re not talking about that right now, Aldo.” Decker leaned forward. “You called her the afternoon before she died. Three times. What did you two talk about?”

“Nothing important.”

“Let me be the judge of that. Do you want to tell me now or do you need another five days to
think
about it?”

“It wasn’t personal. It was professional. She had been complaining to me about Theo Rosser, as usual. If you read her e-mails, you must know how she feels about him.”

“So you called her up to hear her complain?”

“No, no, no. We were talking in her office. And it was the day
before
she died. Check with her secretary if you don’t believe me.”

“I will. But we’re not talking about that right now. We’re talking about phone calls on the
day
she died. Why did
you
call
her
up?”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll explain. We’re on quite a lot of thesis committees together. Our faculty is small and our students rotate the same ten professors.” A pause. “I had some questions about the logic in one of her student’s paper.”

“Which student?”

“Mallon Euler. Naturally, she launched into a diatribe about Rosser, claiming that Mallon was having a very hard time with him because he’s a misogynist—which has some truth to it. But I just kept my mouth shut and let her talk.”

“You called her three times.”

“Okay, okay.” Ferraga picked up a glass of water and drank half of it. “After she had done some initial ranting about Rosser, I mentioned a problem with Mallon’s line of thought that should be addressed, something that
potentially
Rosser could take issue with when Mallon defended. Katrina appreciated my heads-up. Normally, it isn’t correct protocol to warn a student ahead of time, but I thought that Mallon deserved a little help. Rosser is hard on her.”

“That explains one phone call. Two more to go, Aldo.”

“Right. About a minute or two later, I called her back. I asked her if she’d like to meet with me so we could talk about Mallon’s issue in person. She said no. She understood my concerns. She thanked me and we hung up.”

“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, you 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.”

BOOK: The Theory of Death
10.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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