The Theory of Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

costumed in complete livery.
    When McAdams offered Mallon Euler the flyer, she looked at the paper but refused to hold it. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her face revealing nothing. She wasn’t much of a person if physical substance were the criterion. She was elfin: small, painfully thin, heart-shaped face with pixie short blond hair, and deep blue eyes. She wore a sleeveless blouse even though the room wasn’t hot, showing off her stick arms, and denim shorts. Hotel-type slippers on her feet.
    Decker said, “Do you know him?”
    A nod of the head. Her eyes suddenly watered. They went from the flyer, to McAdams’s face, then back to the flyer.
    “Who is he?” Decker said.
    Her focus was still on the flyer. “He’s dead?”
    “Yes.” Decker waited, but no response came. “Who is he?”
    “Eli.”
    “Last name?”
    “Wolf … Elijah Wolf.”
    Decker turned to McAdams. “Two IDs and that’s good enough for me.” To Mallon: “Where did he live, Mallon? Which dorm?”
    “Goddard Hall.”
    “Do you know the suite number?”
    “Twenty-five.”
    “Does he have a roommate?”
    “A single. He’s a senior. Most seniors have singles.” She looked at her lap. She whispered, “What happened?”
    “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
    “When did it happen?”
    “I’m not sure of the exact time. We found him this afternoon in a remote section of the woods—off the Elwood exit from the highway. Any idea why he might have been there?”
    “None. I don’t even know where Elwood is.” She continued to stare at her lap as she talked.
    “Were you and Eli friends?”
    “We had similar academic interests.”
    “That doesn’t preclude friendship.”
    She looked up, then down. “We talked research.”
    “What kind of research?”
    “Math.”
    “How often did you two speak?”
    “All the time.”
    “But you don’t consider him a friend.”
    “I don’t have friends.” A quick glance to McAdams and then she returned her eyes to her knees. Another tear escaped from her left eye. She brushed it away. “But it doesn’t lessen the pain of losing him—his mind.” She spoke in a hush. “It’s so horrible.”
    Another tear followed by another. Decker handed her a box of Kleenex. “When was the last time you saw Eli?”
    “Yesterday.”
    “What time?”
    “One in the afternoon. We met for lunch at the dining hall.”
    “And how did that go?”
    “The usual.”
    “I have no idea what the usual is, Mallon.”
    “We talked math.”
    “Anything different about Eli’s behavior?”
    “No.”
    “Did he seem upset or depressed?”
    “Not at all.”
    “Preoccupied?”
    “No.” Eyes went to Decker, to McAdams, and then downward. “I’m not good at judging emotional states. But to me, he seemed fine … maybe even a little … upbeat. Things were going well with his thesis. That much I know.”
    “Did you see him regularly?”
    “Yes. At least twice a week.”
    “So who called whom to meet for lunch?”
    “I never call anyone. We texted.”
    “Before I forget, what’s his cell number?”
    The girl recited the digits robotically. To McAdams, Decker said, “Can you call the number?”
    “Already on it.”
    Decker returned his attention to the girl. “Who texted whom?”
    “I texted him. I was stuck on something and asked him to take a look at my work.”
    McAdams hung up from the call. “Hmm …”
    “Voice mail?” Decker said.
    “Disconnected … and there’s no new number.”
    That was consistent with suicide: the kid was checking out. Decker said, “What’s your research?”
    Her eyes slowly lifted to his face. “It
was
fractals.”
    Decker asked McAdams, “Any ideas what a fractal is?”
    “I do, as a matter of fact,” McAdams said. “They’re repeating patterns found in nature.”
    “I have no idea what that means.”
    Tyler scrunched his forehead. “Suppose you have a three-leaf clover. And you examine one of the leaves of the clover and discover it’s lobed