Fool Me Once

“Did you ever consider the possibility,” Maya continued, “that there could be a connection between Theo’s death and Andrew’s?”

He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “To the contrary,” he said, “I don’t see how there could not be a connection.”

That was not the answer Maya had been expecting.

“Could you elaborate?” she asked.

“I was a math teacher. I taught all kinds of courses in statistics and probabilities. Bivariate data, linear regression, standard deviation, all that stuff. So I look at things as equations and formulas. That’s how my mind works. The odds that two students from the same small, elite all-boys prep school die within months of each other are very slim. The odds that those two boys were in the same grade make the odds slimmer still. The odds that both played on the same soccer team, well, again, you can start to rule out coincidence.” He almost smiled now, raising one finger in the air, lost as though back in the classroom. “But when you add the final factor into the equation, the possibility of coincidence is lowered to almost zero.”

“What final factor?” Maya asked.

“Theo and Andrew were roommates.”

The room fell silent.

“The odds that two seventeen-year-old roommates at a small prep school would both die young and not in some way be related… I confess that I don’t believe in odds that long.”

In the distance Maya could hear a church-like bell sound. Doors began to open. Young boys began to laugh.

“When Andrew Burkett drowned,” Neville Lockwood continued, “an investigator came by. Someone from the Coast Guard who dealt with any sort of deaths at sea.”

“Was his name Tom Douglass?”

“Could have been. I don’t remember anymore. But he came to this very office. He sat right where you are now sitting. And he too wanted to know about the possibility of a connection.”

Maya swallowed. “You told him you saw one.”

“Yes.”

“Could you tell me what it is?”

“Theo’s death was a tremendous shock to our community. How it happened was never reported in the papers. The family wanted it that way. But as much as we were all shocked by what happened, Andrew Burkett was Theo’s best friend. He was devastated. I assume that you met Joe well after Andrew died, so you didn’t know Andrew, did you?”

“No.”

“They were very different, the two brothers. Andrew was a far more sensitive boy. He was a sweet child. His coach used to say that was the quality that held Andrew back on the soccer pitch. He didn’t have to be victorious in battle, like Joe. He lacked the aggression, that competitive edge, that killer instinct that you need in the trenches.”

Again, Maya thought, with the inane war metaphors to describe athletics.

“There may have been more issues with Andrew,” Neville Lockwood added. “I really can’t say or reveal more, but all that matters for the sake of this discussion was that Andrew took Theo’s death very hard. We closed campus for a week after the death. We had counselors at the ready, but most of the boys headed home to, I don’t know, recuperate.”

“How about Andrew and Joe?” Maya asked.

“They went home too. I remember your mother-in-law rushing down with Andrew’s old nanny to pick them up. Anyway, all the boys, including your husband, returned to campus. All the boys-except one.”

“Andrew.”

“Yes.”

“When did he come back?”

Neville Lockwood shook his head. “Andrew Burkett never came back. His mother felt it best if he took the semester off. Campus life returned to normal. That’s how these things are. Joe led the soccer team to a great season. They won their league and were prep school state champions. And after the season ended, Joe took a few of his teammates to celebrate on the family yacht…”

“Do you know which boys?”

“I’m not sure. Christopher Swain for certain. He was co-captain with Joe. I don’t remember who else. Anyway, you wanted to know about the connection. I think it’s obvious now, but here is my hypothesis. We have a sensitive boy whose best friend tragically dies. The boy is forced to leave school and perhaps, theoretically, has to deal with depression issues. Perhaps, again theoretically, the boy has to take antidepressants or other mood-altering drugs. He is then sailing on a yacht with people who remind him of both this tragedy and what he missed and loved about campus life. There is a raucous party on board. The boy has too much to drink, which mixes badly with whatever medications he might be taking. He’s on the boat in the middle of the water. He goes up to the top deck and looks out at the ocean. He’s in tremendous pain.”

Neville Lockwood stopped there.

“You think Andrew committed suicide,” Maya said.

“Perhaps. It’s a theory. Or perhaps the mix of alcohol and medications caused a loss of equilibrium and he fell over. Either way, the proof, if you will, is the same: Theo’s death directly led to Andrew’s. The most likely hypothesis is that the two deaths are thus connected.”

Maya just sat there.

“So now,” he said, “that I’ve told you my theory, perhaps you can tell me why this is relevant today.”