Jeremiah Healy - Right To Die

"What was your impression of him?"

A sip. "You ever traveled through Europe, John?"

"No."

"Well, you do, and you get certain vibes from people. Like they know you're richer, maybe more powerful than they are, but they still think they're better?"

"Go on."

"Well, this guy wasn't like that. All-American and pleased as punch about being in the States. Even changed his name to just Ray, I think."

"Anything else?"

Another sip. "Not that I remember. Seems to me Ray signed all the papers he had to, no muss or bother. I don't believe he's been around since."

"So you wouldn't think the son was behind this?"

"No. I'll tell you something, though."

"What's that?"

"I find the feller's been sending these things…" Hebert tossed the rest of his drink at the back of his throat and started to get up, then paused halfway. "I'll crush the sumbitch, John. I will, messing with my life support system like he is."

I closed the doors on Hebert and was halfway around the landing when Maisy Andrus stuck her head through the other threshold on the floor.

I said, "How are you doing?"

"All right, I suppose. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure."

I followed her into the study, also lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, these actually containing books. There were law titles, but many seemed to be from other disciplines such as philosophy, sociology, medicine, and history. Andrus settled into a desk chair. Off to one side, computer components ranged over a trilevel table. The monitor was still glowing above one of those backless chairs that resemble a disoriented Catholic kneeler.

I said, "Kind of late to be working, isn't it?"

A tired smile aimed at the computer table. "I sometimes find it easier to write at night. And you're still working, aren't you?"

"Your husband's an interesting man."

Reclining in the chair, Andrus closed her eyes. "Tell me, John. Do you use the word 'interesting' when you're fishing for information about a person?"

"Sometimes."

A laugh with an edge of superiority in it. "Actually, I agree with you about Tuck being interesting. Most people don't adjust well to a fading of the limelight. But Tuck seems to be an exception."

I thought about other people, including me, who'd "adjusted" with alcohol, but I didn't interrupt her.

"You see, John, Tuck truly lived in the fast lane. Money, cars, women. Real glitz, if that's not an oxymoron. But when it was over, he acknowledged the fact, and he's entered a new phase of his life."

"Which is?"

"Being thought of as a 'trophy husband'."

I remembered the phrase as "trophy wife" from a magazine article on successful male executives. "Meaning you sport Tuck as a trophy husband to show you've made it as a female professional?"

A brighter smile, the eyes opening. "No pun intended?"

"No pun intended."

"My point is, that's how others think of Tuck, as an object of Maisy's overcompensating. But it's not how Maisy thinks of him."

"I see."

"What do you see?"

"I see that you and Wade Boggs are the only people in Boston who refer to themselves in the third person."

Another laugh, but hearty, not superior. "That's what I mean."

"What?"

"My first husband was considerably older than I was. Tuck is somewhat younger than I am. But while that does have its advantages, Tuck is really very smart. Not in a book-learning sense, but like your observation just now. The needle that deflates the balloon, that makes you rethink your own position. From class this morning, I recall my insistence that the students use 'he or she' when referring to an unidentified person such as a client or a judge?"

"Yes."

"Well, Tuck once heard me do that, and he remarked that saying it that way took more time. I said that I wanted the students to be comprehensive as well as inoffensive, and he asked me what I did if the client were a corporation or governmental body. I replied that 'he, she, or it' might be appropriate. At that point Tuck gave me that good-ol'-boy grin of his and took out a piece of paper. He wrote 'S/HE/IT' and said 'How about having your students just say it like this?' Well, I pronounced what he'd written, him grinning wider, and it struck me that I had to do a little more justifying with the class on why my approach was important. Tuck wasn't being disrespectful to women. He simply used his wit to make me reexamine my position."

"Can I do the same?"

The tired smile this time. "Go ahead."

"You think your husband is above suspicion?"

Her features distorted. "Certain of it."

"How does he benefit if you die?"

"You call that using your wit'?"

"I call that getting you to reexamine your position. How about it?"

Andrus squared her shoulders and sat a little straighter. "He would receive the bulk of my estate, the residue after some charities and public service organizations."

I inclined my head toward the center of the mansion. "Quite a residue. You have everything here but a two-car garage."

She didn't get it. "We keep the Benz around the corner, in the Brimmer Street garage."

A Mercedes in a condo parking space. Add another hundred and a half to the estate. "My point is – "

"I can see your point, John. I just don't think it has any merit. Tuck is many things, but not a killer. Or somebody who'd threaten it by note. He's an in-your-face sort of man. Besides, trite as it may sound, he loves me and we're happy together."

"How about Walter Strock?"

"Walter?"

"He was there tonight, both at the lecture and the signing when Inés opened the labeled book."

"Oh, my, John. Perhaps one of us has seen too many movies. Walter Strock is an anachronism. A foolish, petty man whose last refuge from real world inadequacy is a law school faculty where he can play his little mind games. He had to leave practice because the pressure got to him. Anything outside the school itself is now beyond his horizons."

"The Rabb is 'outside the school'."

"True, but Walter's performance at the library was a real stretch for him. Believe me."

"Strock seems pretty bitter toward you."

"No doubt. Walter thinks I'm somehow the reason he didn't get the deanship, an opportunity to turn Mass Bay into a kind of legal Levittown, his dream of how academia should work."

"How about your stepson?"

"My stepson?"

"Ramon, or Ray'?"

Andrus shook her head. "No, no. Ramon and I may not care much for each other, but all that was resolved years ago. Besides, if I were to die, he gets nothing."

"Except the satisfaction that you wouldn't be enjoying all this anymore."

"John, Ramon is just not interested in me now."

Andrus seemed to flush a little.

I said, "Was he ever interested in you?"

"That's not material here. Believe me, Ramon cannot be part of this." She softened a bit. "John, I remember what you said this morning about psychopaths, and I'm not trying to cover old ground. But tell me, this… warning in the book tonight. Does it change your view of the situation?"

"According to the bookstore manager, anybody could have doctored that copy anytime in the last week. Whoever did it probably knew you wouldn't be likely to see it until tonight. If you want my opinion, our friend is trying to escalate, to move in closer to you. Maybe a better question would be, does tonight change your view of the situation?"

"No. No in the sense that I'm not about to back down from my positions on the issues. But I have to admit I'm taking the possibility of danger more seriously now. And, consequently, I have to admit that I'm also more interested in what you're going to do next."

"I went through the box of letters Inés gave me at the school today, and I talked with the cop on the case. I'm going to approach some people who might know something. You have any objection to my seeing the Reverend Givens and Dr. Eisenberg'?"