Right To Die - Jeremiah Healy (27 page)

"No."

A wry smile. "Oh, my, John, I do hope you lie
better to those who don't know you. After we saw you and . . .
Nancy?"

"Right."

"After we saw you and Nancy at First Night, I
had a series of tests. They came back positive."

"Positive."

"Yes. The clinic was very good about it. They've
had a lot of practice in being very good. They should do something
about using the word 'positive' though, don't you think? I mean,
'positive' really shouldn't mean what they use it to mean, if you'll
forgive the redundancy."

"When you say the tests came back . . ."

"The tests showed AIDS, John. Not just exposure,
not just AIDS-Related Complex."

"Alec, I'm sorry."

"John, I'm sorry to spring this on you. But I
couldn't believe you hadn't noticed anything New Year's Eve, and I
wanted you to hear it, or most of it, from me."

"Does Andrus know?"

"Not yet. I left a message at the school for her
to call."

"Tommy Kramer?"

"Yes. He's reviewing my will and . . . oh, I'm
sounding pessimistic, aren't I?"

When I didn't reply, Bacall went on. "There will
be good days and bad days. This is one of the good ones, I'm pleased
to tell you. And Del's been able to keep me from looking ghastly by
the judicious application of makeup. He's a marvel at it, used to
work backstage in summer stock here and there. I must admit, though,
it makes me feel just a bit like a drag queen to doll up this way."

"What about those new drugs?"

"My doctor — or doctors, one of the problems
with the disease is that you suddenly have more médicos on you than
a star halfback with a bruised toe. My doctors are not optimistic
about them because of the diabetes. But they're thoughtful, caring
people, and they're working on it."

I nodded.

"There's something else I want you to know, too,
John. My condition doesn't affect my concern for Maisy and her
situation. Not one iota. Whatever you need from me, you'll have. Del
and I will be winding down the business to manageable proportions. If
worse comes to worst, he can decide whether to revive it or instead
sell it for the good will and leasehold value." Bacall gestured
at the window. "It is a hell of a view."

"Alec, I won't — "

"Forgive me for interrupting, John, but I want
this understood. Winding down the business means Del and I will have
more time for each other, but it also means that, good day or bad,
I'll have time for Maisy and the cause. More time, ironically enough,
than I've ever been able to devote before. I intend to stay active
for a long, long time. If you need energy, resources, just plain
legwork or telephoning, you let us know, and it's yours."

"I understand. Thank you."

Bacall swiveled his chair gently toward the window,
so that he could appreciate the view without turning his back on me.
"When I took these offices, I arranged the furniture this way
because I was afraid the scenery would be a distraction."
Keeping the chair stationary, he brought his head around to me. "The
last few days, I find I look out often, probably more than I have the
last few years. I look out on that graveyard, men and women who died
before I was born. Before AIDS was born. And I realize that people
have always died from something, and most before their time."

"Cemeteries can do that for you."

Bacall began to rock slowly in the chair. "As a
boy, with all the doubts and conflicts I felt, there was one thing of
which I was absolutely certain. I would live forever. I might never
feel completely at ease with myself, but there would never be a time
when there wouldn't be a me. Then I learned that forever has just one
rule."

"What's that, Alec?"

"Forever's rule is that nothing is forever."
Turning his face to the window, Bacall seemed to sit straighter in
the chair. He kept rocking, but his speech became as clipped as his
beard. "Sometime, if we could, I'd like you to tell me more
about life, John."

"I doubt I know more to tell you."

"Sometime we might try. But just now, I'm afraid
this good day is tripping into bad. On your way out, could you ask
Del to come in, please?"

I got up quickly and left him, rocking and watching
his view.
 

=23=

"NOW THAT WEJRE HALFWAY THROUGH FEBRUARY,
JOHN, YOU' VE got to start thinking specifics, not just general stuff
anymore. The distances are coming along fine, and you're running on
the packed snow like it was a groomed, gravel track. But it's time to
start planning the race in your mind. Go out and drive the course,
all the way from Hopkinton into Boston. But drive her like a runner,
not a driver. You're gonna notice something. Except for some miles in
the middle, you've got rolling hills. That means you have to run a
little different. On the way up, keep your knees high to synchronize
the arm and leg motion. Don't look down at the ground unless you've
got paper cups and orange peels to step around. Keep your eyes on the
horizon. That way, you don't get discouraged by glancing up and
seeing how far you still have to climb. The idea is to run up the
hill, not into the hill. So lean forward on that incline, like you're
riding a horse and coming forward in the saddle for him. On the
decline, lean back, like you're still on that horse and laying back
in the saddle to balance him. Don't let gravity help defeat you.

"People talk a lot about Heartbreak Hill.
Fact is, Heartbreak isn't just one hill, it's a series of them, with
plateaus in between. From mile seventeen to mile twenty-one. That's
the firehouse at the inter-section of Route 16 and Commonwealth all
the way to the top of Chestnut Hill at Boston College. The inclines
are bad, but the plateaus are worse. The plateaus, they remind your
legs of how much nicer it is to run on a flat surface. Remind you
just enough to take the starch out of those legs for the next
incline. Then you think, 'Well, at least I get to go downhill too,'
but the decline is the worst of all, because it stretches the wrong
muscles at the wrong time.

"Yes, you've got to respect Heartbreak, John,
respect it and learn it. Go out to the firehouse and run just
Heartbreak, when you're good and fresh. Run it nice and easy. See how
it feels, how long it really is. Spot some landmarks and memorize
them. Marathon day, it's the landmarks that'll tell your mind how
much farther you've got to go after you can't depend on your legs for
messages no more. Yes, once you train a little on Heartbreak, you'll
know you have to ease off earlier in the race.

"What I 'm saying is, save some for
Heartbreak, John. Save a lot."
* * *

Absolute temperature, five above. With the wind chill
along the frozen river, nearly thirty below. Doing eight miles
instead of ten, a concession to the February weather. Thanking God
and Nancy for the Gore-Tex suit, I wore longjohns underneath it, wool
mittens and ski mask over it. I even stuck the temples of a pair of
sunglasses through the edges of the eye slits on the mask, the lenses
reducing both the glare and the bite of the wind. If you're not too
cold, you're not too old, right?

The temperature made the running paths icy. By the
time I'd turned for home at the four-mile point, my stride and my
breathing were on automatic pilot, my mind drifting to the Andrus
case. It had been a month since I'd seen the professor at the Ritz
for breakfast, and she was due back in Boston that day to deliver a
lecture. In the interim I'd helped a defense attorney on a
questionable manslaughter charge. I'd also called Inés Roja three
times: no more notes at the school or house, Andrus telling Inés the
same thing from San Diego.

The notes. Our boy sends one when Andrus leaves for
Sint Maarten, but none when she comes back. And none when she leaves
for San Diego. Does that mean he knew about the Caribbean trip but
not the California one? Walter Strock, Tucker Hebert, and Manolo
obviously knew about both junkets, Louis Doleman probably neither.
Ray Cuervo and Gunther Yary each were sharp enough to find out where
Andrus was at any time.

Another thing. The mode of delivery varies: U.S.
mail, by-hand delivery, pasted label, intraschool system. Why be
erratic in both when and how the notes are sent? To throw Andrus even
more off balance?

My frustration level was
lowered by Andrus being three thousand miles away as her case went
nowhere. Passing the Hyatt Regency, however, I decided to burn off
the frustration I did feel by upping my pace a little, the wind
flapping the Gore-Tex jacket against my shoulders as I ran before it.

* * *

At the office that day, Inés Roja called. The
professor had arrived from the coast for her lecture that night. If
possible, Andrus wanted me to come to the town house by five P.M. and
ride with her to the site. I said I'd be there.

After spending the afternoon on the manslaughter
case, I walked through the cold to the mansion, the sidewalks nearly
as glazed as the running paths had been. It was just getting dark as
Manolo opened the door for me. If he'd been out in the sun of San
Diego much, he didn't show it. He was sweating heavily, the foyer
like an oven. I took off my coat, Inés coming downstairs in a
short-sleeved blouse and dark skirt.

"John, it is so good to see you."

"Same here. Have you had your furnace adjusted
recently?"

"I am sorry?"

"It's pretty hot in here."

She smiled. "The professor is no longer used to
the winter. It was eighty degrees Fahrenheit when she left
California."

"She's upstairs?"

"Yes."

"Can I see her?"

"I will ask."

I watched Inés clop back up the stairs. Lithe and
attractive when she didn't think about it.

I turned. Manolo, a long
parka over his arm, was staring at me. He moved his mouth as if to
spit, but just went out the front door, slamming it behind him.

* * *

"John, have you been sick?"

Andrus appeared weary, a pile of opened mail on the
desk behind her.

"No, I've been running a little more. Probably
dropped a few pounds."

"Good. For a . . . Alec told me that you and he
talked."

"Last month, after I saw you at the Ritz. How is
he?"

"I've spoken with him, and sometimes Del, from
California. They seem buoyant. I'm going to see them after the
lecture tonight."

Andrus massaged her eyes with the heels of her hands.
I said, "Would you like me to wait downstairs?"

"Oh, no. It was just the flight."

"Bad?"

"Bumpy. Storms everywhere east of the
Mississippi. I must concede that San Diego offers considerable
meteorological charm, if it weren't for the fact that I'd probably
never get anything done out there."

"Tuck come back with you?"

"Yes. He's off running errands." She
indicated the pile of correspondence. "I'm left to wade through
all this."

"Any surprises?"

"Any . . . ? Oh, you mean notes. No, nothing."

"No incidents in San Diego either?"

"None. Tuck was with me most of the time, Manolo
the balance. I must say, I believe my demented pen pal has lost
interest."

"Yet you asked Inés to have me come over
tonight."

"For two reasons. First, have you made any
progress?"

I explained how I'd played out the string of people
to see. "What's the second reason?"

Andrus frowned. "I'm mindful that the labeled
book appeared after my last speaking appearance here."

I nodded. "What's your speech tonight?"

"The same one you heard at the Rabb debate, I'm
afraid."

"Doesn't the audience notice that?"

Andrus shook her head. "Most of the people will
be different. But even the faithful feel reinforced, hearing the same
things."

"Where is the lecture?"

"Sanders Theater."

"In Cambridge?"

"Yes. Part of the Harvard Law School Forum."

"Harvard invites a professor from another law
school to come talk?"

"Yes. Rather daring of them, but it's more a
students' speaker series, really." She checked the digital clock
on her desk. "Manolo ought to have gotten the Benz by now. Let
me gather myself, and I'll see you downstairs."

"We going to wait for your husband?"

"No. Tuck said to go on without him."

In the foyer, Inés Roja and I made small talk until
Maisy Andrus joined us. In a full-length fur with matching hat.
Sensible against the cold, but I started to hope that there wouldn't
be any animal rights folks at the speech.

I helped Roja into her coat, then pulled on mine. The
secretary opened the front door, me moving across the threshold and
out to the sidewalk. Cars were pushed up on the curb to park and yet
allow a lane wide enough for traffic to pass. No sign of Manolo and
the Mercedes.