The Theory of Death

by Faye Kellerman

  “Good. So I’ll come with you tomorrow?”

  “I’d love it. Thanks for offering.”

  “No problem. When are we leaving?”

  “Around nine-thirty.”

  “Perfect. I won’t have to rush.”

  With a wet head, McAdams walked into the dining room. “Man, that looks good.” He sat down and put his napkin on his lap. “I haven’t eaten all day. I’m beyond starved and into famished territory.”

  After ritually washing, Rina and Decker sat down. Everyone filled their plates. Conversation was kept to a minimum as they ate. Afterward, Decker and McAdams cleared the table while Rina served the baked apples. When they all sat back down, Decker said, “Rina’s going with me tomorrow.”

  “To the Wolf farm?”

  “Yes.”

  McAdams shrugged. “I see I’m being replaced once again.”

  “Stop that,” Rina said.

  “At least it’s someone competent.”

  Decker said, “Your competency isn’t at issue here. You need to study. When I go up to Boston, I’ll take you with me, okay?”

  “Goody, goody.” McAdams cut the apple into smaller bites. “So when are you going to interview Eli’s math professors?”

  “When I get back. Sometime in the late afternoon.”

  “I’d like to come with you. I’ve been around professors more than you have and I might actually be of help.”

  “It’s a fair point. Let’s see how far you get with your books.”

  “Whatever.” McAdams wiped his mouth, got up from the table, and cleared his plate. “I’m going to try to rip off a couple hours of studying.” He turned to Rina. “Thanks for dinner and thanks for putting me up.”

  After he left, Rina said, “He’s dying to come with you.”

  “It’s more important for him to study. Besides, by the time we come back, I’m hoping the postmortem will be done.” Decker stood up and stretched. “Give me a better idea of what I’m working with. I don’t want a repeat of last year: something small turning into something big and dangerous.”

  “Understood.” Rina got up. “You look beat. I’ll load the dishwasher. Take a shower.”

  “No, I’m actually okay. I’ll finish up here and you relax.” Decker looked at his watch. “We did dinner in twenty-eight minutes. By the time I’m done, I should have plenty of hot water. I like long showers. They help me clear my head. And being that we are no longer in a drought zone, I can indulge myself without feeling like I’m scoffing at some environmental water-protection law conjured up by some Green Party fanatic who drives a Prius and shops organic at Whole Foods.”

  “You’re working yourself up. Go take your shower.” She gave him a gentle push. “I’ll put the kettle on. I just got some loose-leaf exotic Indian tea at the organic coffee and tea store. It has ginger, cardamom, and ginseng. It’s supposed to revitalize the flesh as well as the spirit.”

  Decker smiled. “That sounds good to me. At my age, I can use all the revitalization I can get.”

  CHAPTER 7

  DRIVING THROUGH RURAL upstate in the winter, Decker passed landscapes of white and brown, so different from the verdant fields that were in place a half year ago. Crops of lettuce, kale, cabbage, onion, beets, carrots, and oversize pumpkin had been stocked in every farmer’s market as recently as late November. Snowfall had come later this year, plus it wasn’t as harsh as last winter.

  The farming communities varied in size and modernity, from those that employed the latest equipment to oxen yoked plows. Decker didn’t know where Elijah’s parents fit in, but the phone number suggested they didn’t eschew electricity. Rina was staring out the passenger window as Decker waited until he had a chance to safely pass a buggy.

  “Another world,” she said. “Not unlike the one you encountered when we first met.”

  Decker gave her a hesitant smile. “A little different. At least these communities are producing something.”

  Rina slugged him. “We produced scholars. And there has been a real sea change in the Orthodox yeshiva world, just saying. More and more of them are encouraging their students to pursue advanced secular education.”

  “It only took what? About two hundred years?”

  “Now you’re just being contentious.”

  “I don’t deny it. It’s fun to tease you.” Decker paused. “Do you ever miss the insular life?”

  “No. It was what I needed at that time, but I didn’t like being disconnected from the real world. Even at the time, I knew I wasn’t going to stay. I’ll tell you one thing that surprised me. I love living in a small town. It’s so manageable. And with the colleges nearby, I feel we get the best of both worlds. What about you?”

  Decker gave the question some real thought. “I must admit it’s still an adjustment. I often wake up with the anticipation of what’s going to await me at work. And then I realize it’s going to be same old, same old.”

  “You didn’t expect to be called down to a crime scene yesterday.”

  “True, but even so, there’s not a lot of detection work involved.”

  “So you think it’s suicide?”

  “Probably.”

  “But you don’t know why.”

  “No, I don’t. If I hunt around, I’m sure I’ll find out he had depression issues. It doesn’t seem like a spur-of-the-moment decision. And unless someone wants me to look further, it’s really not up to me to find out why he killed himself.”

  “What about those pages you found tucked away in his desk?”

  “Not really my business, either, unless it’s a suspicious death.”

  “What if they had something to do with his suicide?”

  Decker thought about that. “Let me get back to you on that one.” He smiled. “I’m not complaining, Rina. I like the quiet life.” A pause. “It’s certainly better than being shot at, but obviously that can happen anywhere.”

  “That is indeed the truth.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Can you stop off at the next Dunkin’ Donuts? I’d like some fresh coffee.”

  “Sure.”

  They found one ten minutes later on the main strip. There was a Dunkin’ Donuts, a DQ, a two-show movie theater, a library, a grocery store, a store specializing in livestock feed and equipment, a dress and fabric store, an appliance store—new and used—a city hall, and several diners, all of them specializing in pie. The parking was diagonal except for the hitching posts for the buggies. The population included some Amish, some moderns, and some in-betweens.

  “You want a cup?” Rina asked.

  “Thanks. I can get it.”

  “No, I’ll do it. I want to stretch my legs.” She came back a few minutes later with coffee. “Here you go.” Rina took out a large paper bag that she had brought from home. “Want a sandwich?”

  “No thanks, this is fine.”

  Rina took out an apple, made a blessing, and bit in. “Sure you don’t want anything to eat?”

  Decker patted his stomach. “Does it look like I miss a lot of meals?”

  “You look great.”

  “For my age.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You thought that.”

  “I did not! We both look great. No asterisk ‘for our ages’ necessary.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re way younger than I am.”

  “Even more proof why you must look great.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek again. “You snagged yourself one hot, terrific babe.”

  THE WOLF HOMESTEAD was ten minutes from the main highway, in a patchwork of snowed-under farms. There were some greenhouses, and what they grew behind the glass panes was anyone’s guess. Judging from the farmers markets, the hothouses probably had tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, and squashes. There were also chicken coops, pigsties, and sheepcotes. No hogs in sight, but the sheep were grazing, chowing down whatever brown grass and detritus remained from the fall crops. While the area certainly wasn’t Gainesville, it was vaguely reminiscent of Decker’s c
hildhood: simpler times and simpler needs and much, much quieter.

  As they inched closer to the appointed address, the Wolf spread fanned out into lots of acreage, with a barn, two windmills, several chicken coops, and a sty. There was a corral and paddock, but no horses in sight. Around twenty sheep roamed around the grounds. Beyond the farming area were orchards of deciduous trees that were bare at this time of year. From the distance they looked like apple trees. New York ranked second in U.S. apple production, just behind Washington State.

  The main house was polished-looking—three stories fashioned from whitewood siding and fieldstone—and fronted by a dirt driveway that held an old, black Lincoln Town Car. Decker parked behind the car, killed the motor, and he and Rina walked up to the front door. He knocked and a woman in her late forties or early fifties answered the door. She was around five-foot-five, with blue eyes, apple cheeks, and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. Small wrinkles and spiderweb lines framed her mouth and her eyes. She wore a long brown dress with long sleeves. Most of her light brown hair was tucked into some kind of netting.

  Rina had on a green sweater and a denim skirt that covered her knees and black fashion boots. Her dark hair had been secured under a black beret. While the two women weren’t dressed similarly, they both were dressed modestly. Decker took out his identification. “I’m Detective Decker of the Greenbury Police Department.”

  The woman nodded with her eyes on Rina’s face. “You’re here to talk about Elijah.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m very sorry for your loss and I’m also sorry to intrude at this time. But it’s better if we talk now. This is my wife, Rina Decker.”

  Rina held out her hand. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wolf.”

  “Ruth Anne.” The woman touched Rina’s hand with barely any pressure. “Come in, please.” Leading them into a small and immaculately clean and homey living room, she pointed to a sofa upholstered in a soft, muted orange print. “Can I get either of you some tea or coffee?”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Decker said.

  She turned to Rina. “Mrs. Decker?”

  “It’s Rina and tea would be lovely, thank you.”

  Five minutes later, she came out carrying a tray. She poured tea for both Rina and Decker. “Just in case, Detective.”

  “Thank you.”

  She gave a brief smile. “My husband and son should be in soon. I’m making lunch. We adhere to a strict schedule, otherwise things don’t get done.”

  “Can I help?” Rina asked.

  Ruth Anne looked at her. “Forgive my boldness, but you’re Jewish, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You’re dressed differently than the others.”

  “You mean like the Jews in Squaretown? Yes, I do dress differently from them.”

  “I was thinking more like the Jews in Monsey.”

  “Jews run the gamut in their religiosity. Some might consider me fanatical, while others would consider me heretical.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “I came along to keep Detective Decker company.” Rina stood, teacup in hand. “Perhaps it would be better for him to talk to your husband without my presence. Let me help you in the kitchen. It’s probably a place where we’re both familiar.”

  The woman nodded. “Of course.”

  Rina gave a quick glance to Decker and followed Ruth Anne into the kitchen. The woman immediately picked up a knife and began chopping vegetables for a salad. Rina said, “Would you like me to do that?”

  Ruth Anne immediately put down the knife and turned her back to Rina. She placed her hand over her eyes. Rina couldn’t hear her crying but she could see her shoulders heaving. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m . . .” Ruth Anne waved her hand in the air. “I’m fine.” She pivoted back, her still eyes wet. “I’m all right. Yes, you can chop the vegetables. Put them in the bowl. My men like a big salad.”

  Silence ensued for the next minute. As Rina chopped, Ruth Anne took out a pan and four chops. She said, “How many children do you have?”

  “Between the two of us, we have four children. They’re all grown.”

  “Married?”

  “Two married, two are engaged. We also have a foster son who has parents but stayed with us for around three years. We’re still very close. And you?”

  “Five.” A pause. “We had five children. Elijah was number two.”

  “I heard he was a brilliant boy.”

  “He was always bright.”

  Rina nodded and began dicing a tomato.

  “Bright . . . but not brilliant, at least not right away.” Ruth Anne looked up at the ceiling. “Elijah changed when he was fourteen. He was riding in the backseat of a car, along with his older brother and a friend who was driving.” A long pause. “It was a terrible accident. The driver was killed and my eldest son, Jacob, broke his left leg. But he was otherwise okay, praise God. Elijah was wearing a seat belt but there was impact. He was in a coma for two weeks. We almost lost him. It was touch and go.”

  She recited the story with a flat voice. Rina said, “That must have been so earth-shattering.”

  “At the time, I thought it was the worst thing that could happen to a parent. Now I see I was wrong.” Ruth Anne put the chops in an oiled pan.

  From the aroma, Rina knew it was pork. She kept chopping vegetables, but stopped drinking the tea. Even though it was silly, it was hard to be around the smell.

  “Elijah changed after that,” Ruth Anne continued. “Before the accident, he was friendly, popular, and outgoing. Afterward, he became withdrawn and quiet. Very uncommunicative. He buried himself in a world of numbers.”

  She flipped the meat over. Grease splattered on the stove top.

  “My husband is a very laconic man. He always thought that Elijah was a frivolous boy. He and Elijah used to butt heads all the time. After the accident, my husband was pleased with the change in his attitude. He thought the accident had shook some sense into the boy, showed him that the world wasn’t a silly place. He was pleased that Elijah had become so serious.” She shook her head. “But I knew something was wrong. Elijah wouldn’t talk to me except to say he was fine and his perspective had changed.” A pause. “He stopped going out. He stopped seeing his friends. He stopped doing anything social.”

  She threw up her hands. Then she placed the pork chops on a paper towel to drain the grease and turned off the fire.

  “When it came time for college, Ezra wanted him to stay close to home and go to community college which is just ten minutes from here. That way, he could still help with the farm. That’s what his brother did. I wanted him near to keep an eye out. But it seems that Elijah had entered some kind of state math contest. It caught both of us by surprise that he even knew about such things, let alone took the initiative and entered it without our knowing about it.”

  She divided the chops onto two plates.

  “He came in first place.”

  “That must have made you so proud.”

  “It did. But it was a mixed bag. We . . . ‘we’ meaning Mennonites . . . we keep a low profile. After the contest, the letters began to arrive . . . full scholarships from Harvard and Princeton and MIT and so many others. People found out. People began to talk.”

  “It’s hard when you’re a private family and you’re suddenly thrust into the spotlight, even a good spotlight.”

  She nodded. “I had reservations about sending him away. I didn’t want him holed up in some small dorm room working with formulas during all his waking hours.” Her eyes moistened. “I wanted him to have a meaningful life with a wife and children and his own land.”

  “I understand,” Rina said.

  Ruth Anne regarded her with fierce eyes. “Do you?”

  “In traditional communities, family is everything.”

  “Yes, it is. Not that it matters now.” She stared up at the ceiling. “I really lost Elijah six years ago. It would be one thing if he had been happy with
his new life. But he seemed so . . . I don’t know how to describe it. He became so withdrawn and secretive. Almost paranoid, but I found out that sometimes people can be that way after brain injuries.”

  Rina nodded.

  “His only focus was on his math. His world became very small. He had wanted to go to Princeton, because they have a top math department and they had this professor who Elijah wanted to study with. Ezra refused. He didn’t want a big university to subvert our values and lead him into a life that we didn’t approve of. Kneed Loft was a compromise. It was an hour away and also had an excellent math department. Plus there was another professor there that Elijah said he’d work with.”

  “Did he give you a name?”

  “No. After the accident, he didn’t talk to us beyond the basics. After much consideration, Ezra allowed him to go to Kneed Loft, but only after he worked a year on the farm because he was only sixteen. So he worked his year without complaint and then he left.”

  A long pause.

  “And he never really came back.” She bit her lower lip. “During his first year, he came home for Christmas and Easter. After that . . .” She shrugged. “Never saw him unless I visited, never heard from him unless I called . . . I got a cell phone so I could text him. It was the most likely way he’d answer me.”

  “What about his father? Did he call him?”

  “I do believe they haven’t exchanged a word in the past two years.” She turned to Rina. “If you have children, you know that they can be very different from one another.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So . . . there you have it.” Ruth Anne paused. “Still . . . even with all the changes, I can’t understand why he would kill himself. He never seemed depressed. His world had become math, but he seemed to like what he was doing. He seemed to be all right. The last time I talked to him, he even seemed lighter of heart. Shows you what I know.”

  “It’s not a matter of knowing, Mrs. Wolf. The mind is mysterious. Even when people seem transparent, we know they’re not.”

  “Your husband.” A long pause. “Is he talking to people about Elijah?”