The Fractal Murders Part 30

"Can you place him on any flights to Omaha or Lincoln?" I asked.

"Not so far," he said. "The whole thing was a bit more complicated than I thought it would be. You can't just go into a travel agent's system and retrieve past reservations made by people who didn't use that agent. I had to worm my way into the billing database for each airline, and it took some time." I remained silent a moment. Jayne got out of bed, let the dogs out the door from my bedroom to the backyard, then removed her pajamas and went into the bathroom where I heard her start the shower. Then she used her index finger and gestured for me to come hither. "What do we do next?" Scott asked.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said. "I'll call you back."

32.

I NEVER GOT THE CHANCE to return Scott's call. Soon after Jayne headed down the mountain for the math department, Susan Thompson phoned me and told me the connection between Amanda Slowiaczek and Finn. I punched in the number for the Lincoln Police Department.

"Detective Slowiaczek," she said.

"Amanda," I said cheerfully, "how are you?"

"Who's this?" she demanded.

"Pepper Keane."

"Do I know you?"

"Limp-d.i.c.k lawyer turned private eye," I said.

"Oh," she said, "what do you want?"

"I was going through your reports on the Carolyn Chang murder-I got copies from Sheriff Bowen down in Kansas-but I seem to be missing a few. I was wondering if you could fax me a copy of the paperwork on the hara.s.sment complaint Carolyn filed a few years"-she hung up on me-"ago."

I smiled to myself-few things are more satisfying than making someone eat their words-and I pondered what to have for breakfast. I was in the process of slicing a whole-wheat bagel in half when Russ Seifert called.

"I searched Don's office from top to bottom and couldn't find anything like what you described," he said, "but this may interest you."

"What's that?"

"I got to thinking about your theory and I remembered that a day or two before Donald's death, we had some problems with our security cameras."

"What kind of problems?"

"The power went out in our building one night that week and the cameras were out of service for about an hour."

"Don't you have batteries or generators?"

"We have backup generators for the mainframes, but not the security system."

"Anything taken that night?"

"Not that we know of, but if your theory's right, an intruder wouldn't have been looking for our materials. He would have been looking for something Donald had been working on. We wouldn't even have known it existed."

"Yeah."

"Does that help?" he asked.

"It's not the connection I was hoping for, but it's mighty suspicious."

"Let me know if I can do anything else."

"I will," I said.

I ate the other half of the bagel, then went downstairs to work the heavy bag. I usually start out sluggish and finish sharp, and this morning was no exception. After a few minutes my punches were quick and full of snap. I felt good when I came upstairs. Things were falling into place.

Then Jayne called and said, "We need to talk." She sounded distant.

"What's up?"

"You weren't completely honest with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"While you were being so honest with me about your depression, it didn't occur to you that I might like to know about your manslaughter trial?"

"Who told you?" I asked.

"Stephen."

"It was self-defense," I said. "I was acquitted."

"That's not the point," she said. "I had a right to know."

"Yes," I said, "you did." She remained silent. "I wanted to tell you," I added, "but I was waiting for the right time."

"And when would that have been?" I had no good answer and said nothing for a moment, then asked if she would like to hear the story.

"Maybe in a day or two," she finally said.

"Okay," I said. "Let me know when you're ready. And call me if you need me."

"Good-bye," she said.

"Jayne, I'm-" Click. I placed the receiver in its cradle.

I sat in my office and tried to organize my thoughts. I should've been focused on the fact that Mike Polk looked like a pretty good bet to be a player in the fractal murders. Instead I found myself thinking about Jayne. And the more I thought about it, the more I wondered why Finn had been at my home and why he had taken it upon himself to dig into my past and tell Jayne about it. I thought I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from the triathlete's mouth, so I headed to Boulder.

The math department was busier than normal, but I managed to reach Finn's office without being seen by Jayne or Mary Pat. He was at his desk, wearing Dockers and a blue poplin shirt. He looked up at me. "Mr. Keane," he said, "what can I do for you?" I closed the door behind me, then sat down on one of the two wooden chairs in front of his desk. I took a deep breath and let it out in order to relax.

"One of my neighbors saw you snooping around my house a few weeks ago. I was hoping you could explain that to me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said. He removed his wire-rimmed gla.s.ses and set them on his desk.

"She saw your picture in the paper and she can identify you," I said. "Let's put that issue aside for a moment. Perhaps you can tell me what prompted you to dig into my past, and why you felt compelled to share my manslaughter arrest with Jayne Smyers this morning."

"I don't like your tone," he said. He began to stand and I again noticed the mult.i.tude of blue veins in his sinewy arms.

"Sit down," I said. The command startled him. "You may be a better athlete, but you don't want to fight me." He gave me a hard stare, but sank back into his chair.

"Let me tell you what I think," I said. "You had a thing for Carolyn Chang when you were at Nebraska. Am I right?" He said nothing, but I had his attention. "You had some fun times with her, but you wanted more than that and she didn't. Maybe you were just too young for her to take seriously." I paused, but he again said nothing. "When she got tired of you," I continued, "you couldn't let go. You became obsessed. You called her constantly, bothered her. You wanted her to explain what had happened. Maybe you stalked her. Eventually she filed a hara.s.sment complaint with the police. Ordinarily, your career would've been over, but Carolyn didn't know your big sister was a detective. Amanda pulled some strings and worked it out so you could leave quietly and start over somewhere else. How am I doing so far?" He set his elbows on his desk and buried his face in hands.

"Things were going pretty well for you here, but you developed a little crush on Jayne Smyers. You became curious when you learned she was working with a private investigator. The more you saw us together, the more worried you became. You feared it might have something to do with the decision on granting you tenure. You thought I might be looking into your problems in Lincoln. So you went to my home. I'm not sure why. Maybe you wanted to talk with me. Or maybe you planned to break in and see if you could learn what I was up to. My dogs or my neighbor scared you away. Then, when it became clear that Jayne and I were developing a friendship, jealousy got the best of you. You've always been sweet on her and you wanted to do whatever you could to sink the relationship."

"It's all conjecture," he said without looking up.

"It's not conjecture that Amanda Slowiaczek is your sister," I said. "And it's not conjecture that Carolyn Chang filed a hara.s.sment complaint with the Lincoln Police Department shortly before you left Nebraska. I even have the report number. It's the one report your sister didn't give the sheriff in Kansas after Carolyn Chang's murder."

"What do you want?" he said, glaring at me. In his eyes I saw a mixture of hatred and shame.

"You have some issues to work on," I said. "Your IQ is in the stratosphere but you got thrown into the adult world before you were ready for it, and now it's catching up with you." He broke eye contact and his face began to turn red. I stood there, silent. Tears began to form in his eyes.

"Christ," he said, "going to your home was stupid. I don't even know why I did it. I just wasn't thinking." He sighed. "I've really messed things up this time." He gazed at the floor and let out a pathetic laugh, as if he couldn't believe the extent to which he'd ruined his own life.

"Not necessarily," I said. He looked up at me. "The consensus seems to be that you're a good teacher. So I'm not going to share any of this with Jayne, your sister, or anyone else." He looked at me in disbelief. "On two conditions," I said.

"What are those?"

"First," I said, "get into counseling. Once a week for at least a year. You pick the therapist, then send me a canceled check or receipt every so often so I know you're sticking with it." He nodded. Hatred and shame were turning to respect and relief.

"What's the other condition?" he asked.

"Don't get between me and Jayne Smyers."

I spent the afternoon at Troy's gym and worked off some aggression. The heavy bag was Polk's body, the speed bag Finn's face. I was still mad at Finn because of my problems with Jayne. My brother hadn't seen me work that hard in a long time. "You coming out of retirement?" he joked.

"Why not?" I said. "I'm younger than Foreman and Holmes."

When I returned home I had a message to call d.i.c.k Gilbert. It was just after five. I punched in his number. "What's up?" I asked.

"You're a smart son of a b.i.t.c.h," he said in his gravel-edged voice.

"Mind if I quote you in my next yellow pages ad?"

"We hit the jackpot," he said. I could tell he was working on a cigarette.

"Tell me about it," I said.

"I had a technician from the state patrol check Fontaine's home computer and the one he had in his campus office. They used some type of utility program to recover deleted files."

"Keep talking."

"The hard drive on the office computer contained portions of letters he'd apparently written to the other two concerning some type of project they were working on."

"That's great," I said.

"It gets better."

"Yeah?"

"After the state patrol guy told me what he'd found, I got to thinking about your theory. I figured if these three had developed some sort of model to predict the stock market, and if it was good enough that someone was willing to kill them for it, maybe Fontaine would've kept another set of doc.u.ments or disks or whatever. So I drove out to his parents' farm and spoke with that kid Bartels. Turns out Fontaine had a little office at the farm. Just a small room in one of the barns where they keep some of the combines and tractors. We found all sorts of correspondence between Fontaine, Underwood, and Carolyn Chang. It looks like she developed the model and shared it with the other two. I don't really understand the technical stuff, but I sent you copies of everything by overnight mail. You'll have it tomorrow."

"That's fantastic," I said. "We're closing in on this thing."

"There's been one other development," he said.

"What's that?"

"The bureau requested the gun."

"You didn't give it to them?"

"h.e.l.l no."

"Where'd the request come from?"

"Denver."

"Who requested it?"

"Polk."

"It didn't come from the agent in charge?"

"It came from Polk," he said.

"They'll probably hit you with a lot of paperwork real soon," I said. "We need to wrap this thing up before some federal judge threatens to hold you in contempt."

"It would be a welcome vacation," he said.

"I'll wait until I get the doc.u.ments tomorrow," I said, "then I guess we have to think about going to the bureau."

"You really think this guy Polk is capable of this?"

"We found out he flew to Boston just before Underwood's death."

"Christ."

"The weird thing is, he flew under his own name and paid with a government credit card."

"When was that?" he asked.