'And therefore?'
'When I heard about him… about him being sick, I mean, I didn't take it seriously. I couldn't even remember seeing him sick. When I finally realized how bad it was, I got upset, sure. But there wasn't anything anybody could do about it, so…' Cuervo shrugged.
'How did you feel about your stepmother helping him'?'
A quick breath, then he leaned back in the chair and got casual. 'I don't think Maisy is my stepmother anymore. I mean, she got to be that because she married my father, but now she's married to somebody else, right?'
'Andrus injected your father with an overdose.'
A philosophical smile. 'Maybe what she did was the right thing. He was going to die anyway. Maybe Maisy was just making it easier for him, like we do with the stunner on the calves downstairs before they can see the knife.'
'You get involved in any of the legal wrangle over your father's death?'
'No. Maisy got charged and I was supposed to testify, but they never – what do you call it?'
'Indicted her?'
'No, like when they… extradited her. They never extradited Maisy. This was all after Loredo Mendez – the prosecutor that let her get off to start with – killed himself. Barely remember old Luis now, but he was a friend of my father's from the university and had this young wife my father saved from dying during childbirth.' The smirk again. 'Younger wives were real popular in my father's crowd.'
'You ever go back to Spain?'
'Me? No way. That's a part of the world I've already seen.'
'Never get homesick?'
'For what? Candas hasn't been home since I was fourteen.'
'What can you tell me about Manolo?'
'Manolo. He still around?'
'Yes.'
'Well, I guess he would be. My father was a soft touch, John, a real soft touch. One day he comes home, I'm maybe eight or nine, and he's got this big, scared kid with him. Manolo's family was kind of poor, and his father was a drunk. You don't see much of that in Spain. The people learn to drink sidra and sherry young enough to handle it. But Manolo's father was the exception, and with Manolo not being able to talk or anything, I guess it got him frustrated, so he beat the kid. But el Sefzor Doctor took him in. Taught him sign language and turned him into a helper around the dispensary. Kind of a trained bear, if you ask me. But he was like my father's shadow. Wherever el Senor Doctor Enrique went, Manolo would be there too.'
'How did Manolo take your father's death?'
'I wasn't paying much attention. But I'm guessing that my father must have made him understand that it was okay.'
'Why do you say that?'
'Because I know Manolo. If he thought Maisy had killed my father? Hah, he'd kill her. No question. But then, Manolo's not your man.'
'Why?'
'Well, he can't talk, can he? How's he going to make threatening calls?'
'I didn't say the threats came by phone.'
'Oh,' said Cuervo, shrugging again. 'I thought you did.'
18
I DROVE BACK INTO BOSTON, PUTTING THE CAR IN THE Trash-strewn alley behind my office building and grabbing a beer and burger at Friar Tuck's Pub. After lunch I called my answering service as I sorted through the mail. Four messages, one of which was from Ines Roja, asking me to reach her at the school by two.
My watch said two-fifteen. I tried anyway.
'Maisy Andrus.'
'I didn't expect to get you directly.'
'Who… oh, John.' Her voice darkened. 'Is something wrong?'
'Not that I know of. Ines left word for me to call.'
'You just missed her. I can give you the number at the clinic?'
'Clinic?'
'Yes, she volunteers an afternoon a week, sometimes more.'
'I thought Alec said Ines had to leave that?'
'This is a different clinic.'
Recognizing the 269 exchange as South Boston, I did some paperwork first, then drove to it. The small parking area had one slot open, but there were plenty of spaces on the street as well. Just inside the door was a waiting area. An elderly woman had a wire carrying cage in her lap, a Siamese hunched down on its forepaws and looking out warily. Across from the cat lady was a fat man with a matched set of Airedales, straining at their leashes and licking their chops. The Siamese seemed pleased that the woman had remembered the cage.
I walked to the counter. A high school girl in a faded green smock and moussed hair asked if she could help me.
'I'm looking for Ines Roja?'
'She expecting you?'
'She called me.'
The teenager sized me up, then nodded and beckoned. I followed her through one door and immediately another. I thought of Louis Doleman's spacelock as my guide opened the second door.
Containing cages stacked from floor to ceiling, the room sounded and smelled like a menagerie. The crying of birds, the mewling of cats, the staccato barks and mournful howls of dogs. But also the chattering of monkeys, raccoons, and a few other mammals I couldn't place even by continent.
The teenager spoke in a command voice over the din. 'Ines?'
'Right here, Deb.' Roja stood up from behind an examining table of some kind, cradling a gaunt monkey and holding a baby bottle that the monkey eyed eagerly. Roja wore a green smock, too, which was covered with stains old and new. She seemed surprised to see me as she brought the monkey toward us.
'John, I did not want to drag you all the way over here.'
'It was on my way. Don't worry about it.'
Deb said, 'I've got to go back out front. Ines. Let me know if you need anything.'
'Right.'
The monkey began making 'eek' noises. so Roja moved the bottle to its mouth. The creature began sucking, almost shyly.
Roja said, 'You got my message, then.'
'I did. Another note?'
'No. No, it is probably nothing really. That is why I just wanted you to call me.'
I rested my rump against one of the tables. 'Well, I'm here. Tell me.'
Roja shifted the monkey to the other arm like an awkward bag of groceries. 'The professor and Tucker are going on a vacation.'
'I thought she had some kind of visitor thing already lined up?'
'She does. In San Diego. This vacation is to Sint Maarten.'
'The Caribbean?'
'Yes. Tucker was invited long ago to participate in a masters-of-the-game tournament there.'
'And she's going with him?'
