The Theory of Death

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The Theory of Death Page 25

by Faye Kellerman


  CHAPTER 28

  THERE WERE THIRTEEN for dinner including the grandchildren: Cindy, Koby, and the twins, Rachel, Sammy, and Lily plus the couples—Jacob and Ilana, Hannah and Rafy, and Gabe and Yasmine. The majority of the conversation happened between the kids, while Rina and Decker entertained the grandchildren. The twins, Akiva and Aaron, were now six and the size of ten-year-olds. The boys could read a little: mostly statistics from basketball cards.

  “I see you’re training them early,” Decker said.

  Koby said, “They’re on a team with eight-year-olds.”

  Rina furrowed her brow. “It’s not too much for them?”

  “They’re the tallest on the team and the fastest runners.”

  “They seem to enjoy it,” Cindy said.

  The pride was evident. Decker had the height but never the speed. Football had been his thing.

  Hannah said, “If you have the talent, you should start early. Look at Gabe. How old were you when you first started playing?”

  “Two, but I lost my childhood.” Gabe thought a moment. “Actually, that wasn’t because of the piano. My parents are two of the most childish people on the face of the earth. Someone had to be the adult. I’ll tell you this much. Good scholarship potential for them—smart, athletic—”

  “And they’re black,” Koby said. When everyone stared at him, he shrugged. “True is true.”

  “It’s a little early to start planning their lives.” Rina was holding Lily on her lap, feeding her chicken soup.

  “We already made out a list of colleges,” Koby said. “Penn has a very good team for an Ivy school.”

  “He’s just kidding,” Cindy said.

  “No, I’m not,” Koby said.

  “No, he’s not kidding,” Cindy admitted.

  “Well, Lily’s going to have to make it on her brains,” Sammy said. “She’s the shortest kid in pre-preschool.”

  “She’s two.” Jacob lectured his brother. “A lot can change.”

  “You guys are rushing everything,” Decker said. “Take your time. Enjoy them while they’re still manageable.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Sammy said. “Is that how you felt when we were all young?”

  “Probably not.”

  And so the conversation went, ebbing and flowing with a lot of laughter in between. The meal lasted over two hours, and would have probably gone on longer but Decker glanced at his watch and asked for the check. When it came, he reached for it, but Jacob got to it first.

  “It’s on us.”

  “We’re taking you out,” Hannah said.

  “Are you sure?” Decker said.

  “Decided before we all sat down,” Koby told him.

  “It’s our treat,” Sammy said.

  “No need for that.” But Decker had already put away his wallet.

  “Thank you. The treat was unexpected and unnecessary, but very nice,” Rina said.

  “The way we figure,” Jacob said, “is that you’ve taken care of us for all this time. Now it’s time for you to take care of you.”

  “I take care of me?” Decker was confused. “Does that mean I pay for my own dinner?”

  “No, of course we’ll pay,” Sammy said.

  “You can pay tip if you want,” Jacob said.

  “I knew there was a catch.”

  Gabe laughed. “He’s kidding.”

  “No, he’s not,” Ilana said.

  “I’ll pay tip,” Gabe said. “I just got a paycheck from my agent.”

  “Large?” Jacob asked.

  “Substantive.”

  “You pay tip.”

  “Nonsense, we’re all going to split the tip,” Sammy said. “This is a joint venture.”

  Jacob said, “How much do you want to leave for tip?”

  At that point, Decker stood up. “I hate to eat and run, guys, but we’ve got a long ride back.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Sammy said.

  Yasmine said, “We should leave twenty percent.”

  Rina handed Lily back to Rachel. “At least twenty percent. There were a lot of us.”

  There were kisses and the good-byes, and the kids were still figuring out each one’s share as Decker and Rina walked out the door.

  She said, “That was nice.”

  “It was.” Decker paused. “It’s good to have a little fresh air. It was pretty stuffy inside.”

  “You have a headache? It was also a little noisy inside.”

  “A little noisy?”

  “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 tonight 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.”

  CHAPTER 29

  GOING 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.

  It’s been an incredibly high-pressured day as all of them have been for the last couple of weeks. You have no idea of the stress that I’ve been going through because no matter what is said about you, you have the shield of tenure to bounce off the slings and arrows. And after the Christmas party, it was patently obvious that all is not cozy for you as well.

  Neither one of us wanted it to come to this, but the situation is untenable. I cannot look in your wife’s eyes and pretend. I can’t go on. The pain is too much. It is with great reluctance when I say to you that things must end now. It’s inevitable anyway because the chances of my staying here are very low. Tenure—although well deserved by what I’ve accomplished—will be impossible with Rosser at the helm. I always have and will always think fondly of you. You’re a great man and a great mind. I cherish our time together, but we must be practical—a hallmark of our species. Think of me with fondness and perhaps a little love.

  “Ferraga lifted the phrase for the fake suicide note from her breakup e-mail,” McAdams said. “That’s pretty simplistic for a guy of his intelligence.”

  “Maybe it was the first thing he could think of for a faked suicide note.”

  “Maybe, but it’s still pretty dumb.”

  “Yes, it is,” Decker said. “It points the finger at him.”

  “Or maybe someone else wanted that finger pointed at him.” McAdams leaned back and stretched. He looked at the clock. “Jesus, it’s quarter past two.”

  “I don’t have that much more from this pile. I want to finish up.”

 

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