Jeremiah Healy - Right To Die

"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."

"I hope you're right."

"Besides," he said, yanking the bags out, one in each hand, "we haven't seen a note since Monday. I'll bet all your poking around's scared the sumbitch clear out of the valley."

I watched Hebert reach the skycap, drop off the bags, and hold out his arm for Maisy Andrus to take as they disappeared into the terminal.

"I KNOW IT'S STILL ONLY DECEMBER, JOHN, BUT YOU'VE GOT TO think ahead. You see, the marathon's like Good Friday: you'll be on the cross from twelve noon to three. Only for you she'll be more like four, four and a half hours. Of steady pounding and chafing. “Think about what to wear. You have to dress warm to go out to Hopkinton, on account of you'll be standing around for hours till the race starts. Maybe layers of old clothes that you can just take off and throw away on the street. If it's raining, get yourself a trash bag, one of those big green ones. Cut a head hole in it so you can use it like a poncho, then tear it off with the clothes when you hear the gun. For the running itself just shoes, socks, jock, shorts, and a T-shirt. lf it's below fifty degrees, wear a long-sleeved cotton turtleneck under the T. Remember, usually you dress warm to keep your heat in against the cold. Over twenty-six miles, you'll be wanting to let the heat out. Hell, your whole innards'll be producing heat like a blast furnace. Vent it out through sweat, and the wind'll wick it off keep you cooler. "Another thing. Before you put the socks on, turn them inside out and slap them a few times against your thigh. Got to get rid of all the sand or dirt particles. Over the miles, one piece of grit can cut through your toes like a hacksaw.