I couldn't see any weapons. Angling the empty chair away from the cliff, I sank into it. 'You seem awfully at home here for a refugee from Cuba.'
Roja closed her eyes. 'If you have come this far, that tragic tale no longer persuades you.'
'It doesn't. Still, the Marielito story was clever: nobody would inquire too much about a Cuba you never knew. Of course, your father didn't die on a boat at sea.'
A small grimace.
'Your father committed suicide, here in Candas. Just after his cover-up came to light.'
'Does it amuse you to hurt me, John?'
Roja's tone was flat, emotionless.
I short-formed Steven O'Brien's clippings in Providence. 'Your father was Luis Loredo Mendez, basically the local prosecutor. His old friend Dr. Enrique was dying. The doctor had saved the life of the prosecutor's young wife, Monica Roja Berrocal, in childbirth. Your mother, Ines, having you. Your father looked the other way when Maisy Andrus helped the doctor along. When everything came out, your father was disgraced.'
Tears began to gather next to the nose under each lid.
'He killed himself, you and your mother leaving Spain for New York. Eventually, you found out that Andrus was still rich and famous, while you and your mother – '
'Lived in a rathole, John.' Same flat tone, no trace of rancor. 'A vile, crumbling tenement in the Bronx. I spent years thinking about Maisy Andrus, about what she had done to my family. While my mother died slowly, cleaning for other people of means like the good professor.'
I lowered my voice. 'So you got the job as her secretary in Boston.'
'Yes.'
'How?'
Roja finished her glass and poured some more, minus the exaggerated arc. 'It was easy. Growing up in New York, I read the newspapers, articles about the great Maisy Andrus. Giant of the law, champion of those without hope. But I never forgot what she did to us. Last year, the week my mother died, I saw such an article. It was… intolerable. I took the train to Boston. I went to the law school, to see Andrus. To think out a proper way to kill her.
'But the great professor was interviewing for a new secretary that day. She came from her office, hardly glancing at me. 'Are you my next interview?' she said. Realizing she did not recognize me, I said yes. In her office, Andrus said, 'What is your name?' I replied in the American fashion, 'Ines L. Roja.' I was thinking to add 'The L is for Loredo,' my father's surname, when she said, 'I have property in Spain. If you speak Spanish, it would be a great help to me.' If Andrus had not done that, I don't know how I would have dealt with her.'
'But she did.'
'So poor with the memory of names, so ignorant of our language and culture. She did not recognize even my mother's surname.'
'And that gave you the idea.'
'Yes. ' The dreamy smile again. 'Manolo had never met me here, and her stepson Ramon never visited the law school or her home in Boston. I decided it would be better to stay close to her for a time. To make her die slowly, like those she had hurt.'
'The reason you volunteered for the AIDS clinic.'
A shiver. 'It was horrible. But I learned. I learned that the AIDS was a fitting death for the good professor. However, it was uncertain and could take years in the coming. That was too long.'
'So you went to the veterinary clinic instead.'
'I read first. I researched and studied until I found what I wanted. Then I went to the clinic. A doctor there was beginning a new project. He needed help. It took me only a short time to gain his confidence.'
'And then it wasn't so hard to get what you needed.'
'I knew the incubation period could vary, so I had to be careful.'
Roja took more cider. 'But when she comes back from her rich lady vacation in the Caribbean, she has a little problem from a mosquito bite. It is nothing, but it is enough.'
Andrus had said that it was like someone's spit on her neck. 'So that's how you administered the rabies.'
The voice of a teacher, explaining the instructions to a test. 'I scrape the skin. I watch the little points of blood come up. I have the saliva specimen on a gauze pad, and I spread it on her. Later she tells me how much her neck itches. I know from then that I have done it, that I now can just wait and enjoy it.'
There was something very wrong. Roja was too calm, feeding it to me too freely. 'The notes, Ines. Why the notes?'
'To bring on her worry. To ruin her peace of mind even before I have the chance to give her the rabies. Do you see? To make her think about dying, like my father, my mother. And me.'
'The notes were risky.'
'Yes, but I researched them as well. I read the files of hate letters she received. I made certain that my notes sounded as though a man had sent them.'
'Why did you come to me?'
Roja frowned. 'The notes in the mail were not working on Andrus, John. Not even the one I put in the mailbox of the house. I got Alec concerned about them, but he could not cause the great professor to worry either. Even when I went to the police, the idiot Neely I know will never think of me. No, even then she is not upset enough.'
'So you bring me in, to make it seem like something she should be worrying about.'
'Yes.'
'That was taking a bigger risk, wasn't it?'
The dreamy smile was making me chilly. 'You flatter yourself, John, It was some risk. But I needed you for another reason also.'
I said, 'Manolo.'
A gentle tipping of the head. 'Manolo fired the shots at us. Outside the house, to make the good professor more scared, but also to keep everyone thinking it is a man behind the notes. A rifle is a man's weapon.'
I didn't bother to debate her. 'How did you get Manolo to do that?'
Roja poured more cider. 'I explained to him that a bad man was trying to scare the great professor with the notes, that she had to take the threat more seriously. That he had to help me persuade her.'
'So Manolo shoots to miss.'
'But to hit the mailbox, to lead you to the new note in it.'
'Why didn't you send any notes to San Diego?'
A shrug. 'The one at the school had no effect on Andrus when she came back from Sint Maarten. Also, I found the notes were not… satisfying unless I was near her, to see her reaction to them as they arrive.'
'And last Wednesday night, at the house?'
'Simple. I tell Manolo, 'The professor is in danger, go get your rifle!' Then, downstairs, I unlock the door for you. When Manolo comes back from his room, I sign to him about you. I tell him, 'Cuddy. Cuddy is the bad one.' '
I said, ' 'He is going to shoot the professor.' '
Now a wicked smile. 'I tell him the same thing I can yell at you when I hear your voice downstairs.'
'You hit Manolo's arm, threw off his aim.'
'I can't let him kill you.' A condescending glance. 'I thought you were a professional, that you would shoot him with ease. Then you stumble on the stairs, and I realize that he will kill you. That is not sure enough.'
'Not sure enough of Manolo being out of the picture.'
'Exactly.'
'And you couldn't let him live because – '
'Because he would discover that I killed the woman he took an oath to the old doctor to protect. Manolo would not rest until he found me.' The wicked smile again. 'That is the other reason I needed you, John. I did not want to die the way Manolo would avenge Andrus's murder.'
I kept my voice as neutral as possible. 'After that, in the hospital, why did you tell me you thought somebody else was helping Manolo'?'
'Because I thought you would see it anyway. Also, I cannot dare being there as she suffers the seizures, so I wanted to be sure you are bothering her with questions. Questions that she would have no patience for as the
