Right to Die by Healy Jeremiah

Author:Healy, Jeremiah [Healy, Jeremiah]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

= 16 =

“Area A, Detectives, Neely.”

“Neely, this is John Cuddy.”

“Cuddy, how ya doin’?”

“Doing fine. You have a chance to run those names for me?”

“Names? Oh, yeah, just a second, got them here... somewheres.... Hold on, okay?”

“Right.” Through the phone I heard him tear off part of a sandwich and chew.

“Cubdy?”

“Still here.”

“Ga wha chu wan.”

“Go ahead.”

Neely swallowed. “Okay. We got Yary, Gunther W. You want just his sheet or D.O.B. and that shit too?”

“Start with his sheet.”

“Got a commitment to DYS—that’s Division of Youth Services?”

“I know.”

“Commitment in seventy-eight on his first juvie. Must have been a pisser, send him in as a first-timer. After that we got A&B as an adult, then disorderly... disorderly... another A&B. Obstructing a public way, probably some kind of demonstration thing. That’s it. Nothing heavy, no hard time, just your run-of-the-mill asshole.”

“Schooling?”

“Hyde Park High, no college here.”

“Employment?”

“Delivery service over in Dorchester.” He gave me the name and address.

“All right. Who else do you have?”

“On Doleman, Louis R. Just a flag. Seems his daughter was dying from something or other, and he made some phone calls to the doctors, the hospital about it.”

“What kind of calls?”

“Says here ‘harassing.’ ”

“You figure that means ‘threatening’?”

“Don’t know. Ask Mass General.”

“Mass General?”

“Yeah. That’s where she was at.”

Odd that Eisenberg didn’t recall the treating hospital. “Anything else on Doleman?”

“Yeah. Gun permit.”

“To carry?”

“Sporting. Just rifle and shotgun, not concealed.”

“How recent?”

“Last renewal two years three months ago. Probably means the calls to the medics weren’t too serious.”

“Or he wouldn’t have gotten his renewal.”

“Right.”

At least you’d like to think so. “How about Strock?” Neely chuckled. “You’re gonna love this.”

“What?”

“I told you I thought I heard the name, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, turns out I caught the call. Seems this guy Strock’s a professor. Of law, yet. Also seems he kinda had the hots for one of his students coupla years back. You with me?”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, this student has an apartment on the Hill, backside down near Cambridge Street. Old Strock follows her from some kind of student party over there at the school, and tries to slap the make on her.”

“Christ. Rape?”

“Uh-uh. But this was four, five years ago, when the heat was on for those kinda things, so I get sent with the uniforms. When she opens the door for us, here’s this Strock guy, half into his pants.”

“He was in her apartment?”

“Yeah. Seems he gave her a song and dance about feeling sick or something, and she bought it. Anyway, here’s this guy, and he’s drunk, weaving and stumbling with the pants and the belt coming through the loops and all, trying to make like everything was okay. Kinda pathetic.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, nothing. What do you think? Nobody decided to press nothing. Wouldn’t even have remembered the guy, but you asked me and the sheet registered, that’s all.”

“Anything on O’Brien?”

“Not yet. Be a day or two. Call me.”

“I will.”

“For lunch.”

My turn to swallow. “Looking forward to it.”

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