Right To Die

I put on my training shoes and took the four-inch Combat Masterpiece from the closet. Due to the one-wayness of the streets, it was literally faster to run the seven blocks than to drive them. Reaching the front door of the Andrus house, I couldn't hear any sirens, but the cops might be coming with just flashers. Somebody was shouting inside. I grabbed the door handle to crash it, but the handle turned in my hand, opening the door. Going through it into the foyer, I could hear Inés Roja clearly.

From somewhere above, she was crying out, "He is going to shoot the professor! He is going to shoot the professor!"

I started up the staircase.

Suddenly Roja appeared at the top. "Oh, John, he is going to shoot the professor!"

I got out "Where – " when Manolo barreled into Ines, pushing her off balance. He fired at me before I saw the rifle clear the balustrade. Something tore at the waist of the sweatshirt, a searing sensation in my left side. Reflexively, I pulled the trigger, rocking Manolo at the left shoulder but not putting him down.

I dropped back a step to steady my weapon as he worked the bolt on the rifle. My foot slipped a little on the stair, my second shot missing as Manolo raised the rifle as high as his shoulder would allow. Inés lunged at him, cuffing his arm as he fired and sending his next bullet wild. Manolo bellowed as he pushed her off, the first sound I'd ever heard him make.

Steadied, I fired three more times, each slug punching Manolo in the chest, the rifle dropping from his hands. He bucked off the wall, his palms coming together and twisting on the wrists, like a shortstop handcuffed by a bad hop. Staggering forward, Manolo pitched through the balustrade, the staircase quaking as he struck the Oriental rug on the first floor.

As I moved toward her, Inés Roja was sobbing in two languages at once.

29

NEELY SAID, “CHRIST, MY WATCH TOPPED. IS IT WEDNESDAY OR Thursday?"

Patiently, Murphy said, "Thursday, twelve-fifteen A.M.”

Neely spoke to himself as he wrote. "Mass General, Room 309."

Murphy said to me, "The Roja woman didn't tell us anything at the scene about saving your life."

Three pillows propped me up in bed. I shifted my rump to the left, the drain in my side starting to burn as badly as the bullet had. "She was pretty shook up, Lieutenant. Might not even remember hitting his arm. How is she now?"

"Zonked. The M.E. gave her something just after he pronounced Manolo."

Neely looked up from his pad. "M.E. had to say it three times, the way you aced him there."

I turned back to Murphy. "How about Andrus herself?"

"She went back to sleep. The woman gets home from the coast, all 'jet-lagged,' she said. When she wasn't bitching at us about messing up her house. Said she took some pills, went to bed, slept through the whole thing, firefight and all."

"Nobody else in the house, right?"

"You got there before we did. Roja never called it in. Said she was about to when she heard Manolo heading toward the professor's bedroom."

Neely was doodling. Murphy was biding his time.

I said, "There are some things wrong here, Lieutenant."

"Like what?"

"Manolo had plenty of motive and opportunity on the notes. Even on the sniping incident last month."

"I'm goosing ballistics to give us a quick read on whether the slugs from tonight match those. The weapon Manolo used was a Remington."

"You might check with Ray Cuervo, the son from Spain. He said his father had one of those as a hunting arm."

Neely stopped doodling. "So what doesn't add up, Cuddy?"

"First, Manolo's supposed to be doing this for revenge, right?"

Murphy said, "Go ahead."

"Wouldn't you think he'd wait till she was awake'?"

"Again?"

"Manolo wants to avenge the killing of his father figure. Pass for now that it takes him over ten years to work up to it. He decides to bust Andrus with a hunting rifle that maybe belonged to the old doctor. Poetic justice. But wouldn't you think Manolo would wait till she was awake?"

Murphy thought about it. Neely looked lost.

Murphy said, "You mean because of the notes."

"Right. Guy intends to scare her with the notes, especially that last one tonight, wouldn't you think he'd be sure she was awake enough to read the last one and be in terror? And wouldn't you think he'd hold off shooting her till she was looking at him, eyes open?"

Neely said, "So maybe the Roja woman surprised him. Who knows?"

Murphy said, "Anything else?"

"Yeah. Manolo seemed to think of himself as being in charge of the house security. Even if he's going to kill Andrus, maybe especially if he's going to kill her after she reads tonight's note, wouldn't you think he'd have made sure the front door was locked'?"

"Was the front door ever unlocked?"

"Not that I know of."

"So it's more like he must have unlocked it on purpose before he started after the professor."

"And why would he do that?"

Murphy rubbed his chin. "Expecting somebody."

"And probably not me."

Neely said, "I don't get it."

Murphy said, "It's thin, but this Manolo leaves the front door open, maybe he expected a guest for the execution."

Neely looked from Murphy to me to Murphy. "Aw, fuck. You mean this ain't the end of it?"

***

The next time I opened my eyes, Dr. Paul Eisenberg and Nancy Meagher were standing over me. "Don't tell me I slept until visiting hours?"

Nancy shook her head. "Ever the adolescent."

Eisenberg said, "I was coming up to check on you anyway. I heard Ms. Meagher threatening the nurses' station with dire legal consequences if she wasn't permitted to see you, so I included her on my rounds."

I said, "How did I draw you, Doctor?"

"I was on duty last night. Heard about a private investigator shooting someone, getting shot himself, and being rushed here as the closest facility. A nice change of pace from the ordinary, if you'll forgive my saying so."

"So you're not on the case as my specialist for internal medicine."'

"Oh, no. No problems that way."

"The slug missed all the vital stuff?"

"Completely. Just gouged a wormtrail through the bit of fat you've got over that left hip. You're in pretty good shape."

Nancy said, "He was training for the marathon."

"Am training for the marathon."

Nancy said, "No."

I said, "Yes."

Eisenberg said, "You mean, to run the Boston Marathon this Monday?"

"Any reason I can't?"I

Nancy turned away and began pacing. "I can't be hearing this right."

The doctor combed his beard. "It's not my call medically, but physically, it's certainly not a good idea."

Nancy said, "Listen to the man."

"I didn't even take any stitches."

Eisenberg came over, lifted my johnny coat. "We let a gunshot heal from below. If we closed it over with sutures, an abscess might form." He dropped my coat.

"So it's not that bad, right?"

"A bullet makes a dirty wound, Mr. Cuddy. The slug itself, fibers it introduces from your clothes."

"But you washed all that out."

"We used a saline solution to irrigate the area, yes."

I said, "If I run, what's the worst that can happen?"

Nancy said, "John, you're a dunce."

Eisenberg looked skeptical. "The wound could weep through the dressing, perhaps even break open. You'd lose some blood and risk an infection."

"So if I run and the worst happens, I won't die before I finish the race, right?"

"Right. But you could be very sick thereafter."

"Which means I might be on antibiotics and maybe in bed for a while'?"

"Probably."

"If the wound breaks open."

"Yes, but you'll also be rather weak to start with."

"Any weaker than if I'd had a bout of the flu?"

Eisenberg said, "Honestly? Probably not as weak as the flu would make you."

I looked at Nancy and shrugged. She crossed her arms and stalked out.

***