Right To Die - Jeremiah Healy (22 page)

"I thought she had some kind of visitor thing
already lined up?"

"She does. In San Diego. This vacation is to
Sint Maarten."

"The Caribbean?"

"Yes. Tucker was invited long ago to participate
in a masters-of-the-game tournament there."

"And she's going with him?"

"Yes. The tournament is in January, so they will
vacation first, then be together while Tucker plays."

"First I've heard of it."

"I believe she decided to go only last night."

"I just talked to her an hour ago. She didn't
even mention it."

Shifting the monkey again, Roja held it on her hip,
an interspecies Madonna and Child. "You must not be harsh with
her, John. Her mind is . . . different. She can concentrate on
something and not think to say something else to you."

"What made her decide to join Tuck on this
trip?"

"I think the pressure of the notes and all. But
I am concerned about her being . . . vulnerable outside the United
States."

"So am I. Are you going too?"

"No."

"How about Manolo?"

"He is to stay here as well."

"How's he going to take that?"

"I am . . ." Roja looked down, but not at
the monkey. "I am feeling disloyal telling this to you."

"I can't help you much with that, Inés. Is it
important for me to know?"

"The professor told me I am to tell Manolo after
they are gone that they have left."

"So Manolo sees them get into a cab, and . . ."

"And he thinks they are going out to dinner
instead of to the airport."

"What about luggage?"

"They are not to pack much, and I am supposed to
occupy Manolo with some task as they leave."

"I don't like this, Inés."

Roja looked back up. "I am sorry to have to tell
you, but I thought you should know."

"When do they leave?"

"Tonight. Their plane departs at eight-thirty,
and they said they would be taking the taxi about seven."

"I'll be there by six."

Roja smiled. "Thank you."

"How do you get here?"

"How? By the subway."

The Red Line would take her only to within eight
blocks or so of the clinic. "Still a long walk. Why do you
volunteer'?"

"The animals, they do not know how sick they
are. They know only the kindness you show to them." She nuzzled
the baby monkey.

"And many will get better."

As opposed to the last
clinic Roja had seen.

* * *

Deb let me use the phone at the counter. I called the
D.A.'s office, leaving a message for Nancy that I'd still see her
that night, just after eight o'clock. I figured by that time, either
I'd have persuaded Maisy Andrus not to go with Hebert to the
Caribbean or they'd be on their way.

I sat around the reception area, eavesdropping on Deb
and the girl who came to relieve her at five. They gossiped about one
of the vets, but I had the feeling that they were more interested in
his "totally" blue eyes than in his "radical"
rabies research. When Inés Roja came out, I insisted on driving her
to the Andrus house with me. At first she declined, saying that the
professor would realize that she had told me about the trip. I
replied that I'd tell the boss I'd forced it out of her. That brought
a feeble smile and a nod. Outside, the wind was shrieking. I opened
the passenger door of the Prelude for Roja, and she scooted in,
flipping her coat away
from the door that
closed a little too quickly from the gale.

Once I got behind the wheel, Inés said, "This
is a very nice car."

"It's old, but well maintained?

"Like . . ."

"Like what?"

Roja shook her head as I started the car. "Nothing."
She gathered the coat around her neck.

"We'll have heat as soon as the engine warms up
a bit."

"I am all right."

To make conversation, I said, "It ever get this
cold in Cuba?"

She started to look at me, then turned away. "No.
But there are worse things than cold, John."

We drove in silence for half a mile through Broadway
traffic, crossing the overpass for the train yards that anticipate
South Station.

Roja finally said, "I am sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about."

"In Cuba, my father did not support Castro. He
was in prison. When your President Carter dared Castro to free those
who would come to the United States, my father was one. He was too
weak from the prison, but they said if we did not go then, perhaps
there would be no time to go later, no boat to carry us. So we left
Cuba, and my father got sick. He could not breathe .... It was only
ninety miles to Florida, but the other men would not keep his body on
the boat with us. They simply threw him off, like he was . . . not a
human being. Into the sea. Then my mother could not . . . Many of the
men on the boat were prisoners too, but not political. Criminals,
degenerados, do you understand?"

"I think so. You don't have to — "

"My mother tried. She screamed and she tried,
but she could not . . . keep them from me."

More silence. No tears, just nothing.

"In the United States everyone tried to help us.
My mother had relatives in New York, so we went there. We were poor
but we were free. And the professor, she has been everything to me
since I began to work for her."

I'd been keeping my right hand on the stick shift in
the stop-and-go traffic. Roja placed her left over mine. Cool and
dry, a hand that was washed a lot but never grew warm.

I looked at her.

She said, "Please keep the professor safe."

Roja withdrew her hand and
buried it in the side pocket of her coat.

* * *

"If I didn't like you so much, John, I'd swear
you were suggesting I can't protect my own wife."

Tucker Hebert was smiling at me, but just barely. He
wore a long-sleeved Georgia Bulldog jersey and sweat pants, no socks,
and had just turned away from the closet.

Maisy Andrus pushed the open duffel bag toward the
pillows and sat heavily on the bed. "John, let's resolve this.
First, just what is your objection to my accompanying Tuck on this
trip?"

I leaned back against a highboy and crossed my arms.
"I don't like the idea of you traveling outside the country,
even with Tuck as protection."

"But why?"

"Whoever our note writer is, he might know that
things are a lot looser in other countries."

Hebert said, "Sint Maarten is a pretty damned
sophisticated island, my friend."

"Where an accident happening to a tourist might
not be the most desirable subject for publicity or embarrassing
investigation."

Andrus said, "Do you really believe that whoever
is sending these notes would follow me to a Caribbean island rather
than wait for my return?"

"It's possible. If he knows much about police
work outside the States, he might know his chances of getting away
with it are a little better down there."

Hebert said, "What if he doesn't care about
getting away with it?"

Andrus and I both looked at him.

Hebert reddened a little under the perpetual tan.
"Lordy, what I mean to say is, this boy's a nut. If he doesn't
much care about getting caught, he sure isn't thinking about picking
some spot where the cops aren't as sharp as you're used to."

"Given the way he's sent the notes so far, I
don't think he wants to get caught."

"John," said Andrus in a soothing tone I
hadn't heard from her before. "Isn't it at least as likely that
this person doesn't have a passport or the means necessary for a trip
like this on short notice? It is the beginning of the high season
down there. In order for Tuck and me to vacation before the
tournament. we even have to stay over in New York tonight to get a
plane out tomorrow."

"You can travel most places on just a birth
certificate. Plus, charters fly half full to the Caribbean all the
time. He could probably go for a third of the price if he just hangs
around a travel agency long enough and is willing to leave on two
hours notice. They've already paid for the aircraft, so every seat is
a lost margin of profit."

Hebert turned his back to us and began rummaging in
the closet, talking into the clothes.

"Okay. Okay, let's say this boy could follow us
down if he wants to. Problem is, he doesn't even know we're going.
Maisy just decided at the last minute to come with me. At most this
boy thinks I'm going, and that'd mean he'd think he could get to her
easier back here, alone and all."

"Except for Manolo."

"Manolo. Manolo,
Manolo." Hebert turned back around, a scuba fin in his hand that
seemed to match the one sticking out of the duffel bag. "Let me
tell you something, John. In a street fight Manolo would be a
mountain. He'd take a knife or a bullet, ten bullets, for Maisy, and
maybe even a few to save my butt, knowing how she feels about me. But
he's deaf, John. Stone cold deaf. A school kid could take him from
behind. He wants to play loyal retainer, that's fine with me. But
down-home protection? Get real, huh?"

* * *

Andrus said, "John, I'm tired. A little
frazzled, okay? I've spoken to my dean, and under the circumstances
he's agreed to cancel the special session seminar you saw. I think
Tuck's right about my being safer on Sint Maarten, though perhaps for
a different reason. I don't see my tormentor as a world traveler. I
see him as a small, wretched little soul trapped in some way that
makes him do this. If I am at any risk, that risk is higher here,
where he has already acted, than fifteen hundred or so air miles from
Boston. Furthermore, in less than a month I start a visitorship three
thousand miles away. I'm not about to sacrifice that, and if I'm not,
there is no logical reason I shouldn't enjoy a spur-of-the-moment
vacation with my husband beforehand."

I certainly couldn't say I had proof she was wrong.
"Tell you what?"

"What?" said Hebert.

"At least let me
drive you to the airport."

* * *

Andrus said, "Tuck, are you sure you're all
right back there?"

"Fine," said his voice from near my left
ear.

We were in the Callahan Tunnel, the only functional
way to Logan Airport. There are two parallel tunnels actually. The
one leaving the city is called Callahan and one approaching the city
is called Sumner. Tourists who know they went through one go crazy
when from the other side all they can find is the other.

I said, "It won't be too much longer."

Maisy Andrus conformed to the front bucket, sinking
into vacation mode. Hebert was sardined into the optimistic "seating
for two" in the back, but hadn't complained once. Their luggage,
both soft-sided pieces of it, didn't fill even my trunk.

Andrus said, "What will you do while we're
gone?"

"I still have a few more people to see or see
again."

"Have you come to any conclusions?"

"I don't have enough information yet."

Andrus nodded, as though that was a good answer for
the occasion. She inhaled and exhaled deeply. "I'm feeling
better already."

Hebert said, "Wait'll we hit this hotel, Maise.
It's got everything you could want. Even a few things you'd never
think of."

"When will you be back?"

Hebert said, "Tournament's over January
sixteenth. We're booked on a return flight the next day."

"Afternoon or evening arrival here?"

"Evening."

"Call me when you get back, will you?"

Andrus said, "Certainly."

"How can I reach you down there?"

Hebert said, "Try Jupiter 8-5000."

Andrus giggled. "Inés has all our itinerary and
numbers for both the hotel and the tournament people. She can reach
us if you need me."

I'd just opened my mouth when Andrus said, "But
John, please try not to call. I'd like a real vacation, if possible."

"All right."

Hebert sighed. "Amen."

I dropped them at Pan Am's domestic terminal for the
flight to Kennedy. Andrus flagged a skycap as I opened the trunk.
Hebert unfolded himself from the backseat and came around to me,
people already honking at us and a state trooper windmilling his arm
to
keep moving.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"Sorry about riding over you on this, but I
think it really is best for Maisy."

"I know."

"She's worn out. More than I've ever seen before
from anything. Believe me, this is the best thing for her."