Right to Die

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.”
    “Strode 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?”
    “Ramón, or Ray?”
    Andrus shook her head. “No, no. Ramón 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, Ramón 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, Ramón 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?”
    “Really? They couldn’t be involved, John.”
    “Not directly. But someone who hates you might have sidled up to one of them at some point.”
    “I suppose that’s possible. So you want to know if I object to your telling Givens and Eisenberg about the notes?”
    “Yes.”
    Andrus thought about it. “No, no objection. I’ve met both of them before, and I know each by reputation. I would trust them to hear what you have to say and to help without publicizing my concern about it.”
    “In that case, I’ll let you get back to work. Or sleep.” I was up and turned when she said, “John?”
    “Yes?”
    “I must confess. I really asked you to step in here because I’m curious.”
    “Curious?”
    “About what you thought of the debate tonight.”
    The debate. “First time I ever watched three pep rallies in the same room.”
    A throaty laugh. “You ought to spend more time with Tuck. You’d like each other.”

= 12 =

    “John?”
    I’d almost reached the bottom of the staircase, watching Manolo sitting in a chair near the front door while Manolo watched me descending the steps. When I turned around, Alec Bacall was holding open the swinging door to the kitchen.
    “Yes, Alec?”
    “Are you on your way out?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Let me walk with you.”
    Bacall got our coats from the entry closet, and we bundled up as Manolo unlocked the front door to let us into the cold.
    I said, “Where’s Del ?”
    “I phoned a cab for him. He has an early call tomorrow.”
    “Early call?”
    “ Del ’s an office temp. Knows three word-pfocessing programs by heart. That’s how we met, actually, although not really.”
    “I don’t get you.”
    “Well, I met him when he came for an interview—I’m Bacall Office Help. On Boylston, across from the Common? But I didn’t really say anything to him then.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because he was hoping for a job, and I’ve always thought it a little unseemly to put the move on potential employees.”
    “Sounds like a