The Theory of Death (35 page)

“No, I was referring to another female faculty member, who left four years ago. But yes, I do believe he is a little rough on Mallon.”

“Have you ever talked to him about it?” Decker asked.

“I’ve made some small talk about it. He just denies the problem. That’s Theo’s style.”

“Being pigheaded?” Decker asked.

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“How would you put it?”

“Theo is a remarkable man. He should have been full-time faculty at Harvard or Princeton or Berkeley. But he gets fixated on a person or an idea and he won’t let go. Persistence is helpful in math
if
you’re on the right track. But sometimes you’ve got to stop working an idea to death no matter how brilliant you think it is. Sometimes you’ve got to learn to switch gears.”

AFTER THEY LEFT
the building, McAdams said, “When you think of venal professions, mathematics doesn’t jump right out at you. But I guess the pettiness of academia cuts across the board.”

“People are people.”

“Profound.”

“You don’t have to be profound to be right.”

McAdams chuckled, pulled up the collar on his navy cashmere coat, and tightened his scarf. “Want me to call Alistair Dixon?”

“Yes. Let’s set something up in an hour if you can. I’m going to Bagelmania to try to confirm Lin’s alibi the morning after the murder. Want me to grab you anything?”

“No, I’m fine right now.” McAdams took out his phone to look up Alistair Dixon’s cell number. “She still could have done it, you know. There was plenty of time between two and six to get in an argument with someone and push Katrina into a table.”

“Of course.”

“But you don’t suspect her.” McAdams punched in the numbers. “I can tell that by now—who you think is innocent and who you think has something to hide.”

“She sounded truthful. She said she was in Bagelmania at six in the morning. If she was lying about that, then I’ll change my mind.”

“Voice mail, hold on.”

“Give him my number as a callback.”

“Don’t trust me?”

“I want to talk to him.”

“Whatever.”

Decker paused until McAdams stowed his phone into his pocket. Then he said, “Dean Zhou was right about switching gears. We’re working on the assumption that Theo Rosser hates Katrina, and then you mention that he had a thing for her … it potentially changes the entire complexion of the case. Good for you, Harvard.”

“Thanks.” He thought a moment. “So, you suspect Rosser?”

“If he felt that Katrina had spurned him, who knows what was boiling up inside him. Then we also have Dixon, who was doing his master’s thesis on the stochastic oscillator indicator, switching to the topic a year into the program. Where did that come from?”

“Maybe he was also working for Katrina.”

“Mallon and Damodar never mentioned Dixon on the team, but maybe Katrina had several teams helping her out.”

“Want me to call up Mallon and ask her about it?”

“Not yet.” Decker paused. “Something hit me when I was talking to Zhou. It just came to me. She mentioned that Dixon’s paper was sloppy. Maybe he needed better data. How do you like the idea that he broke into Mallon’s room trying to find
her
data?”

“Uh, I don’t think you can turn Dixon into Mallon no matter how professional the wig or the makeup job. He’s a beefy guy.”

“So he hired someone to break in.”

McAdams shrugged. “And when he couldn’t find what he needed in Mallon’s room, he went to Belfort’s house. They argued and he pushed her.”

“Or he broke into Belfort’s house hoping to find her data. Maybe she heard him, woke up, and that’s when he pushed her.”

Decker’s phone rang: it was Dixon. After introductions, Decker said, “I am trying to establish where people were on the night of Katrina Belfort’s death. Dr. Ferraga said he knocked on Dr. Zhou’s door at about one in the morning and you were there … yes, Dr. Zhou told me … yes, I know that you didn’t see him. But I need a statement. Could you come in to the station house … no, not over the phone. I’ll need a signature. It will only take a few minutes …” Decker looked at his watch. “Around four? Okay, I’ll see you then. Thank you …” He hung up.

“How’d he sound?” McAdams asked.

“Nervous, but all people sound nervous when dealing with the police.”

McAdams checked his watch. “That’s two hours from now.”

“The boy can add.”

“See what four years of college can do.”

Decker smiled. “I can follow up on Dean Zhou’s alibi by myself. Go home and study.”

“Okay.”

Decker held his chest. “Uh, what did you say? Did you actually agree with me?”

“Very funny.”

“I should video rare moments like this. It’s
almost
as rare as one of my kids agreeing with me.”

“Don’t play that benighted detective crap on me, Decker. You don’t brook shit from no one. Which technically means you brook shit from everyone. Anyway, you get the gist of what I’m saying. You’re as shrewd as they come. You just mask it better than someone like my dad.”

“Anyone could mask it better than your dad.”

“Now, that is true. I still want to be there when you interview Dixon. He’s my age. I think I’d be an asset.”

“Definitely.”

Tyler smiled. “Why, thank you, boss.”

“You’re welcome.” Decker threw his arm around the kid. “We make a good team, Harvard. You give me youth and I give you gravitas.”

D
IXON WAS ESCORTED
into one of the two interview rooms at the station house. The area was small, accommodating a table where Decker sat with a pad of paper and three chairs. McAdams was setting up a video recorder that had been mounted on the wall. Decker looked up, saw Dixon, and poured three glasses of water. “Have a seat.”

“Uh, I thought I was here to sign a statement.” The young man’s eyes traveled between the tape recorder and the lone empty chair. A bead of sweat traveled down his forehead.

“Yes, that’s right,” Decker said. “You can take your jacket off. No sense becoming overheated.”

“How long is this going to take?”

“Not too long,” Decker said.

“Can you give me an approximation?”

“Have a seat, Alistair. The quicker we do this, the quicker you’re out of here.”

Dixon took off his parka, his hat and gloves, and his scarf. He laid them on the back of the chair and sat down. The kid was solidly built, but his stature was on the shorter side. He had brown curly hair, light brown eyes. His cheeks were probably red from the cold. Decker slid a blank pad of paper over to him.

“Write down what time you went to see Dr. Zhou, what time Dr. Ferraga knocked on the door, and what time you left Dr. Zhou’s office. Also, write down where you went when you left Dr. Zhou’s office and what time you arrived there.”

“Why? I thought all you wanted me to do is write an official statement.”

“That’s what I’m asking you to do. Write an official statement.”

“I thought this was about Dr. Ferraga.”

“It is about him.”

“So why do you need to know where I went?”

Decker said to McAdams, “Is the video on?”

“It is.” McAdams stepped down from the stepladder. “At least, that’s what the indicator light says.”

“Good enough.” Decker spoke into a table mic. “This is Detective Peter Decker and I’m talking to Alistair Dixon.” He looked at his watch and gave the date and the time.

Dixon’s eyes darted from man to man. “Why are you recording me?”

“Do you have a problem with it?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

“It just makes me look …” Dixon’s voice trailed off. Decker waited him out. “I’m just uncomfortable being recorded.”

“It’s the way it’s done officially.”

“Yeah, if you’re a suspect in something.”

Decker smiled. “You watch too many cop shows. We record everything. It’s routine. Are you finished writing your statement?”

“I haven’t even started.” Dixon sighed. “What do you want? Like just the times?”

“The times and what you were doing.”

“Right.” It took Alistair about ten minutes. Afterward, he said, “Can I go now?”

“I want to go over the statement with you. It shouldn’t take long.”

An exaggerated and exasperated sigh. “Why?”

“So I don’t make mistakes.” Decker read the statement to himself and then gave it to McAdams to scan. “You went to Dr. Zhou’s office at around twelve-thirty at night.”

“Yes.”

“A little late to be working,” Decker said.

“What is this?” His expression was angry. “Are you going to question me?”

“Do you have any objection to my asking you a few questions?”

“I do if they’re pointed questions.”

“Just questions of clarification.”

“When you say it’s a little late to be working, it sounds like I did something wrong.”

“No, no, no. I’m just wondering if you normally meet with Dr. Zhou in the late hours of the night. Maybe it’s the only time she can see you.”

Dixon sat back in his seat. “Okay. So I know you talked to Zhou. What did she tell you?”

“This is what I do know. I know you were having a heated argument with her and it was loud enough for Dr. Ferraga to knock on the door and ask if everything was all right.”

“We were having a healthy academic debate. That’s all.”

“Free speech is still part of America,” McAdams said. “What was the debate over?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why’s that?”

“The math is complicated.”

“So you were arguing over esoterica in your math thesis?”

“How do you know it was about my math thesis? Did she tell you that?”

Decker said, “From what Dr. Ferraga told us, it sounded like Dr. Zhou was doing most of the arguing. What was she so angry about?”

“This is beginning to sound like more than a few questions.”

“Alistair …” Decker leaned over. “Dr. Zhou told us some things. Dr. Ferraga told us some things. The department is small and Katrina Belfort is dead. We’re just trying to verify where everyone was on that night and what they were doing.”

“So this is about Katrina Belfort.”

“Of course. What did you think it was about?”

Dixon didn’t answer. Then he said, “I was with Lin from roughly twelve-thirty to around one-thirty. Can I go now?”

“Where did you go after you left Dr. Zhou’s office?”

“I went back to the dorm and went to bed.”

“About what time was that?”

“I walked home.” He averted his glance. “It was around two in the morning.”

Decker scribbled on his notepad. “Is there anyone who saw you at your dorm around that time?”

“No.” He was offended. “Everyone was sleeping.”

McAdams said, “Everyone was sleeping in a college dorm at two in the morning? Man, things have changed in three years.”

Decker said, “Alistair, we both know it’s impossible to get privacy in a dorm. There are always some night owls lurking around the common room fridge, looking for munchies.”

“I didn’t see anyone. Look, I answered your questions. I’m going to go now.”

Decker said, “So if we checked the electronic swipes hooked up to the entrance to your dormitory, we’d find that you clocked into the building sometime between one-thirty and two?”

Dixon’s face went pale. “Uh, someone opened the door for me.”

“So someone saw you enter your dorm,” Decker said. “Even better. I need the name.”

Dixon exhaled. “I don’t know who it was.”

“Wasn’t it you who told me that Kneed Loft was a very small school?”

“I don’t know everyone in the school and I don’t know everyone in the consortium.”

“But you should know everyone in your dorm since you’re the RA,” McAdams said. “And you should know if a stranger is entering your dorm at two in the morning.”

Decker said, “Obviously you didn’t go home. Where’d you go?”

Dixon answered with feigned anger. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“You tell me.”

“Unless you have a legal reason to detain me, I’m done here.”

“This is the deal, Alistair,” Decker said. “You can go. But we’re working on a murder investigation. We’re also trying to figure out who broke into Mallon Euler’s dorm room because the two events may be tied together. What do you know about that?”

“Nothing! How could I? I was with Dr. Zhou when it happened.”

“Okay, let’s break down that sentence, Alistair,” Decker said. “Yes, you were with Dr. Zhou. That means you couldn’t have ransacked her room. But that does not mean that you didn’t have something to do with the break-in.”

“Why would I break into Mallon’s room?” More emphatic.
“Why?”

McAdams said, “Maybe you were looking for data on stochastic oscillator indicators. We both know that Mallon was doing analysis in the field.”

Dixon opened and closed his mouth. He couldn’t seem to get the words out.

He stood up, pitched forward, and used his chair to regain his balance. “I’m going now.”

“That’s fine,” Decker said. “But let me leave you with this thought. If you did have something to do with Mallon’s break-in and you did ask someone to help you find her data for your ‘work-in-progress’ thesis, we’re going to find out about your involvement. And in a school this small, it won’t take long. And if you leave without telling us what you know about it, it will look very, very bad for you. And because we’re investigating Katrina Belfort’s death, your name is going to go to the top of the list. Because that’s what happens when you lie to the police.”

Dixon’s brow got moist and his hands started shaking. “I had nothing to do with Katrina’s death!
Nothing!
”

“Just like you had nothing to do with Mallon’s break-in?”

“Shit!” The kid sat back down and covered his face with his hands. He then looked at Decker. “I did not
kill
Katrina Belfort. I barely had anything to do with her when she was alive.
Why
would I kill her?”

“We’re not up to that part yet, Alistair.” Decker paused. “We’re not even up to Mallon Euler’s break-in. Talk to me about the stochastic oscillator indicator. How did you become interested in exploring it for your thesis?”

“It was something I was always interested in.”