Right To Die

"How about the other names I ran for you?"

"I don't see Steven O'Brien as a rifleman. And Gunther Yary of the Fourth Reich says he doesn't believe in guns."

"A Nazi who don't believe in guns?"

"He says freedom of speech will set us free."

"Christ on a crutch. The hell can you count on anymore?"

"One of Yary's storm troopers seemed a little more in the mold."

"Don't get you."

I laid it out, including the address of the storefront in Dorchester. Neely said, "How's about you leave the Nazis to us?"

"Fine."

He finished scribbling and lowered his voice. "That guy, the houseman. Manello?"

"Manolo. M-a-n-o-l-o."

"Right, right. Manolo. He was where when the shots were fired?"

"Getting the car. Supposed to have been stuck behind a truck."

"Supposed. Why 'supposed'?"

"Because I didn't hear any horns."

"Horns. Like you would if some truck was fucking up the traffic there."

"Right."

"Stupid thing for him not to think of."

"Yes and no. He's deaf. Might not have occurred to him."

Neely looked skeptical. "You really figure he could be the guy?"

"If so, I'm the only one who does."

"Let's hear it."

"One, Andrus pushed over the man who basically pulled Manolo back into life. Two, he's always around her for the notes except when she goes off to the Caribbean, and then a note appears at the law school when not many people know she's gone and nobody outside the school could easily access the internal mail system."

"Motive and opportunity for both the notes and the shooting. But why does he miss, then?"

"Don't know."

"Why does he wait – what, ten years? – to start at her?"

"Same answer."

Neely shook his head.

I said, "The husband's also not accounted for."

"The husband?"

"Tucker Hebert. Andrus says he was out running errands."

Neely plainly didn't like trying to keep track of all these people.

"So opportunity. How about motive?"

"He gets most of the estate."

"If the professor there buys the big one."

"Right."

"Meantime?"

"Meantime, he's a former pro tennis player who gets sported like a trophy."

"What?"

I explained it to Neely.

He scratched behind his ear some more with the pen. "So we got a husband who's riding his wife's money either way."

"Except if Andrus were dead, he'd be enjoying it without her."

"Yeah, but if the perp is either Manolo or the husband, how come she's not getting notes out in California there?"

"I've thought about it."

"And?"

"If it's either Manolo or Hebert, hand-delivering a note out there points the finger."

"So the guy could use the post office."

"Without an accomplice to mail the notes from another city, the postmark would give the guy away."

Neely shook his head again.

I said, "You get anything from across the street?"

"From the roof, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Nah. The techies went up. Easy to do, some kind of scaffolding on the far side. Too windy and cold for the roofers today, though. No shell casings, no footprints they could make out."

"How about the slugs?"

"They'll run them through ballistics, but don't wait by your phone, okay? The slugs, one splattered and the other got flattened by the professor's brickwork. I seen ones like that before they couldn't do much with."

I figured that gave me an opening. "Homicide going to be by?"

A grunt. "Nobody bleeds, they try not to bother those guys. Why?"

"Thought maybe there might be something we're missing."

Neely closed his pad. "Probably. There usually is. But then in the end you find out what it was and turns out it don't mean shit anyways."

"Even so, you mind if I keep looking into this'?"

"Except for the Nazis, suit yourself. It's your time and her money, right? Lemme do the courtesy call on Andrus. I'll let you know about ballistics."

"I'd appreciate it."

Neely lurched to his feet. "Whew, tough day."

Uh-oh.

He patted his stomach. "Yeah, fact is, I been having the kind of day, if I was to break for dinner about now, I'd want somebody else to taste my food for me."

I got the hint and told Neely I'd wait for him.

***

"I was hoping you'd still be here."

Robert Murphy looked up from the wrappings of a submarine sandwich. The wax paper and a diet Coke nearly covered the one area of his desk not stacked high with files.

He said, "I can't even eat my dinner in peace?"

"Do me a favor, Lieutenant, don't talk about food. I broke bread with Beef Neely tonight."

Murphy set the sub down delicately and folded the paper over it. "Just ruined my appetite. Sit, but don't stay long."

"Thanks." I took one of the metal chairs.

"You okay, Cuddy?"

"Fine."

"You look, I don't know, kind of skinny."

"Been running, that's all. Listen, about that case back in December?"

"The one you had to see Neely on."

"Right."

"Now what?"

"Somebody missed my client and me with a couple of shots today."

"Probably forgot to allow for windage."

"Very funny, Lieutenant. Neely seems to think he's in charge because nobody got hit."

"Probably right."

"No chance you or Cross could come in on it?"

"We take the ones that bleed no more. Area cops draw the ones that never bleed. In between…" He shrugged.

"That's how Neely described it too."

"Besides, reason I'm still here is we're buried. Cross, she's out with the harbor boys, bobbing for what's left of some wiseguy."

"What's left?"

"His hands we found inside a Maserati over in Eastie. Nice Italian driving gloves."

"Back to my situation?"

"Two minutes worth."

"There were some slugs, Lieutenant, but no casings. I think it had to be a rifle. At least one of the slugs was intact, but flattened."

"What'd they hit?"

"Bricks."

"Don't – "

" – wait by my phone, I know. Can you do anything?"

Murphy sucked some diet Coke through a straw. "Not much. I can see the slugs get the full treatment, but that's about it."

"I appreciate it." I got up. "Since this isn't your case, I take it you have no objection to my staying on the investigation'?"

"Your time."

I left wondering if all cops talked the same before they went to the academy too.

***

"How's Inés doing?"

Maisy Andrus set down the book she was reading. "Pretty well, I think. She's lying down, sleeping, I hope. The proximity of all this has hit her pretty hard. I think it reminds her of being… on that boat."

"Manolo let me in. Where's your husband?"

"Tuck hasn't gotten back yet."

I glanced at the clock on the desk behind her. Nine forty-five P.M.

"I thought you said he was just running some errands?"

Andrus got huffy. "I in no way have to justify Tuck's activities to you, and neither does he."

"Professor, I'm tired too."

"I'm not tired."

I let it pass. "Whoever that was today is a reasonably good shot to have hit the mailbox nearly dead center."

"It's a large mailbox."

"On a downward angle from a rooftop on a cold and windy night. He wanted to miss you. Us. He's playing some kind of game, to get you rattled."

"He won't succeed."

"He is succeeding. You're upset – "

"I am not – "

"And you have every right to be. He's got some kind of private agenda planned for you, and I have to try to figure that out before he ups the ante much further."

Andrus heaved out a breath. "Understand this. I am upset only by your continuing to think that my husband could have anything to do with any of this. Or Manolo, as that ass Neely seemed to imply. Since I am not stupid, I recognize that whoever is doing this wants to keep me off balance, to discourage me from doing what I do. I am pained to admit that this evening he was successful. I canceled a speaking engagement which would have provided appropriate coverage to the issues I hold dear. I want you to continue your investigation on my behalf, but I do not, I repeat, I do not want you harassing my husband in any way. Now, is that clear?"