Right To Die - Jeremiah Healy by Jeremiah Healy Read Free Book Online Page A

to drift into
getting worse. One night, he asked me, begged me to end it for him. I
refused. For weeks I watched him decline, his begging now reduced to
a single word, John. 'Needle'."
    The tic again. "Ramon finally arrived. Repelled
by his father's condition, he couldn't even sit in the same room with
him, his own father. I wasn't getting much sleep, but I was doing a
lot of thinking. I decided that what Enrique was asking me to do was
illegal but not immoral. Finally, one night, I found a bottle with a
label on it that I could read, and I injected him."
    Her voice quavered. "Enrique was aware of what I
was doing. He smiled at me, John. He slipped away blessing me."
    Andrus used the edge of her index finger to wipe her
eye. It was so like Nancy's gesture that I started a little in my
chair, but the professor didn't notice.
    "That should have been the end of it. But I
didn't know much about Spanish politics. General Franco had just
died, and the leftists were trying to push the Franquistas out of
government. The undertaker saw the needle marks, how awkward I must
have been when I helped Enrique. There was an autopsy. The prosecutor
— Spain has a different system, but what we'd call the prosecutor
was a Franquista. Except for Enrique's funeral, I never met him, but
apparently my husband had once saved the life of the prosecutor's
wife. So the man felt indebted to us and basically sat on the autopsy
report. I returned to the States, trying to put my life back together
while some Spanish lawyers probated Enrique's estate."
    Andrus shook her head. "A journalist, a real
left winger, got a whiff of the autopsy results, showing that Enrique
died from an overdose of drugs. When it turned out the Franquista had
covered it up, there was a scandal. Worse, it was made to look like
corruption, as though I had somehow bribed the man. The prosecutor
was ruined, and I became a fugitive, though my lawyers here were able
to fight the halfhearted extradition effort. I never even lost my
holdings as Enrique's widow in Spain."
    Andrus came forward in her chair. "That's the
perversity of it all, John. I helped a man I loved move through the
pain and hopelessness of incurable illness to the peace that follows.
Everyone who tried to do the right thing in that direction was
vilified by the system, but in the end nothing changed in the
society."
    "How did the son feel about all this?"
    "Ramon? He seemed pretty indifferent. Almost
glad that it was over. Enrique's will split the estate between us. I
got the house. on the ocean in Spain — in Candas, near Gijon —
though I just rent it out. Ramon was interested more in the movable
assets."
    "Movable?"
    "Yes. He decided to settle in the States, even
shortened his name to just Ray Cuervo."
    "Where does he live?"
    "I believe somewhere on the north shore. I
haven't seen him in years, but . . . Marblehead, perhaps."
Andrus altered her expression. "Why do you ask?"
    "I might want to talk with him."
    "I can't believe Ramon could be involved in
this."
    "How about Manolo?"
    "Manolo doesn't know anything. I've questioned
him extensively. Over the years he's become good enough in
recognizing English for us to communicate with him on simple things."
    "I meant, could Manolo be involved in this?"
    "Manolo?" A laugh. "Manolo is like the
sun and the moon, John. He was devoted to Enrique, never left his
side."
    "Manolo watched you inject your husband'?"
    "Watched me with the needle, yes. Not with the
bottle."
    "Manolo ever figure out that you killed your
husband?"
    "John, Manolo is loyal, in the medieval sense of
the word. I'm sure that at some point Enrique signed to him that he
was always to serve me. After Enrique died, I packed to come back to
the States. So did Manolo. In his mind there was no question that
where I went, he went. A simple man, but not stupid. For example, if
you talk to him, you have to say the words out loud, not just mouth
them. Otherwise, Manolo can tell from the way your throat looks