Acceptable Risk

by Robin Cook

  “You sound like Kevin.” Edward laughed. “I’m surrounded by ersatz parents. No, it wasn’t dangerous. It was too small a dose to be dangerous. But, being small, it certainly indicated the hallucinogenic power of this new fungus.”

  “It sounds foolhardy to me,” Kim persisted.

  “It wasn’t,” Edward said. “I even had a urinalysis and a creatinine blood test this afternoon for Kevin’s sake. They were both normal. I’m fine. Believe me. In fact, I’m better than fine. I’m ecstatic. At first I was hoping this new fungus would make the same mix of alkaloids as Claviceps so it would prove ergotism was the culprit. Now I’m hoping it makes its own alkaloids.”

  “What are alkaloids?” Kim asked. “It’s a familiar term but I couldn’t define it to save my life.”

  “Alkaloids are a large group of nitrogen-containing compounds found in plants,” Edward said. “They’re familiar to you because many of them are common, like caffeine, morphine, and nicotine. As you can guess, most are pharmacologically active.”

  “Why are you getting so excited about finding some new ones if they are so common?” Kim asked.

  “Because I’ve already proven whatever alkaloid is in this new fungus, it’s psychotropically active,” Edward said. “Finding a new hallucinogenic drug can open up all sorts of doors to the understanding of brain function. Invariably they resemble and mimic the brain’s own neurotransmitters.”

  “When will you know if you’ve found new alkaloids?” Kim asked.

  “Soon,” Edward said. “Now tell me about your day.”

  Kim took a breath. Then she related to Edward everything that had happened to her, in chronological order, starting with her talk with her father and ending with the completion of the design for the new kitchen and baths for the cottage.

  “Wow!” Edward said, “you did have a busy day. I’m astounded by the discovery of Elizabeth’s grave. And you said the coffin was in good shape?”

  “What I could see of it,” Kim said. “It was buried very deep, probably around eight feet down. Its end was sticking into the trench. It had been damaged by the backhoe.”

  “Did finding the grave upset you?” Edward asked.

  “In a way,” Kim said with a short mirthless laugh. “Thinking about finding it so soon after finding the portrait makes me feel weird. It gave me that feeling again that Elizabeth is trying to communicate with me.”

  “Uh oh,” Edward said. “Sounds like you are having another attack of superstition.”

  Kim laughed despite her seriousness.

  “Tell me something,” Edward said teasingly. “Are you afraid of black cats crossing your path, or walking under ladders, or using the number thirteen?”

  Kim hesitated. She was mildly superstitious, but she’d never given it much thought.

  “So you are superstitious!” Edward said. “Now think about this! Back in the seventeenth century you could have been considered a witch since such beliefs involve the occult.”

  “All right, smarty pants,” Kim said. “So maybe I’m a little superstitious. But there seem to be too many coincidences involving Elizabeth. I also found out today that the calendar in 1692 is the same as this year’s, 1994. I also found out Elizabeth died at my age. And as if that’s not enough, our birthdays are only two days apart, so we have the same astrological sign.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Edward asked.

  “Can you explain all these coincidences?” Kim asked.

  “Of course,” Edward said. “It’s pure chance. It’s like the old cliché that if you have enough monkeys and enough typewriters, you can produce Hamlet.”

  “Oh, I give up,” Kim said with a chuckle. She took a sip of her wine.

  “I’m sorry,” Edward said with a shrug. “I’m a scientist.”

  “Let me tell you something else I learned today,” Kim said. “Things were not so simple back then. Ronald was married three times. His first wife died, willing him a sizable fortune which was contested unsuccessfully by his wife’s child by a previous marriage. He then married Elizabeth within a couple of years. After Elizabeth died he married her sister in the same year.”

  “So?” Edward said.

  “Doesn’t that sound a little fishy to you?” Kim asked.

  “No,” Edward said. “Remember life was harsh back in those days. Ronald had children to raise. Also, marrying within in-laws was not unusual.”

  “Well, I’m not so sure,” Kim said. “It leaves a lot of questions in my mind.”

  The waitress appeared and interrupted their conversation to tell them their table was ready. Kim was pleasantly surprised. She didn’t know they were planning to eat at the Harvest. She was famished.

  They followed the waitress out onto the terrace and were seated beneath trees filled with tiny white lights. It was a perfect temperature after having cooled down considerably from the day. There was no wind, so the candle on the table burned languidly.

  While they were waiting for their food, Kim showed Edward the copy she’d made of Ronald’s petition. Edward read it with great interest. When he was finished he congratulated Kim on her detective work, saying that she’d succeeded in proving Elizabeth had indeed been caught up in the witchcraft affair. Kim told him about her father’s comment concerning Elizabeth’s possible association with the occult.

  “Which is what I suggested,” Edward reminded her.

  “So would you guess that the conclusive evidence had something to do with the occult?”

  “I don’t think there is any question,” Edward said.

  “That’s what I thought,” Kim said. “But do you have any specific ideas?”

  “I don’t know enough about witchcraft to be creative,” Edward said.

  “What about a book?” Kim questioned. “Or something she wrote?”

  “Sounds good,” Edward said. “I suppose it could have been something she drew as well. Or at least some kind of image.”

  “What about a doll?” Kim suggested.

  “Good idea,” Edward said. Then he paused. “I know what it must have been!”

  “What?” Kim asked eagerly.

  “Her broom!” Edward said. Then he laughed.

  “Come on,” Kim said, but she was smiling herself. “I’m being serious.”

  Edward apologized. He then went on to explain the background of the witch’s broom, and how it had originated in medieval times with a stick that had been coated with an ointment concocted with hallucinogenic drugs. He told her that in satanic rituals it had been used to cause psychedelic experiences when placed against intimate mucous membranes.

  “I’ve heard enough,” Kim said. “I get the idea.”

  Their food arrived. They didn’t talk until the waiter had left. Edward was the first to speak. “The problem is that the evidence could have been any one of a number of things, and there’s no way of knowing specifically unless you found a description. What about looking in the court records themselves?”

  “I thought of that,” Kim said. “But I was told that none of the records of the special Court of Oyer and Terminer remain.”

  “Too bad,” Edward said. “I guess that throws you back into that hopeless pile of papers in the castle.”

  “Yeah,” Kim said without enthusiasm. “Plus there’s no guarantee it would be there.”

  While they ate their meal the conversation shifted to more mundane issues. It wasn’t until they were finishing their dessert that Edward returned to the issue of Elizabeth’s grave.

  “What was the state of preservation of Elizabeth’s body?” he asked.

  “I never saw the body,” Kim said. She was shocked at such a question. “The coffin wasn’t opened. The backhoe just hit the end and jarred it a little.”

  “Maybe we should open it,” Edward said. “I’d love to get a sample—if there is anything recognizable to sample. If we could find some residue of whatever alkaloid this new fungus produces, we’d have definitive proof that the devil in Salem was a fungus.”

>   “I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing,” Kim said. “The last thing I want to do is disturb Elizabeth’s body.”

  “Here we go being superstitious again,” Edward said. “You understand that such a position is akin to being against autopsies.”

  “This is different,” Kim said. “She’s already been buried.”

  “People are exhumed all the time,” Edward said.

  “I suppose you are right,” Kim said reluctantly.

  “Maybe I should take a ride up there with you tomorrow,” Edward said. “We could both take a look.”

  “You have to have a permit to exhume a body,” Kim said.

  “The backhoe already did most of the job,” Edward said. “Let’s take a look and decide tomorrow.”

  The bill came and Edward paid it. Kim thanked him and told him that the next dinner was on her. Edward said they could argue about it.

  Outside the restaurant there was an awkward moment. Edward asked her over to his apartment, but Kim demurred. She reminded him that she’d felt uncomfortable that morning. Ultimately they resolved the issue, at least temporarily, by agreeing to go to Edward’s to discuss it.

  Later, while sitting on Edward’s couch, Kim asked him if he remembered a student named Kinnard Monihan, who’d done research in his lab four or five years previously.

  “Kinnard Monihan,” Edward said. He closed his eyes in concentration. “I have a lot of students passing through. But, yes, I remember him. As I recall he went on to the General for a surgical residency.”

  “That’s the one,” Kim said. “Do you remember much about him?”

  “I remember I was disappointed when I’d heard he was taking a residency,” Edward said. “He was a smart kid. I’d expected him to stay in academic research. Why do you ask?”

  “We dated for a number of years,” Kim said. She was about to tell Edward about the confrontation at the compound when Edward interrupted her.

  “Were you and Kinnard lovers?” Edward asked.

  “I suppose you can say that,” Kim said hesitantly. She could tell instantly that Edward was upset. Both his behavior and speech changed dramatically. It took Kim a half hour of coaxing and convincing to get him to calm down and to understand that her relationship with Kinnard was over. Kim even apologized for bringing up his name.

  In a deliberate attempt to change the subject, she asked Edward if he’d done anything about finding a new apartment. Edward admitted that he’d not had a chance. Kim warned him that September would be arriving quickly.

  As the evening progressed, neither Kim nor Edward brought up the issue of whether Kim should spend the night. By not making a decision, they made a decision. She stayed. Later, as they were lying side by side in bed, Kim began to think about what she’d said to Kinnard about Edward moving in with her. It had been meant merely to provoke Kinnard, but now Kim began seriously to consider the idea. It had a definite appeal. The relationship with Edward was continuing to blossom. Besides, the cottage was more than ample, and it was isolated. It might even be lonely.

  5

  * * *

  Saturday,

  July 23, 1994

  KIM awakened in stages. Even before she had opened her eyes she heard Edward’s voice. At first she’d incorporated it into her dream, but then, as she’d become more conscious, she realized it was coming from the other room.

  With some difficulty Kim opened her eyes. First she made sure that Edward was not in bed, then she glanced at the clock. It was 5:45 A.M.

  Settling back into the pillow and feeling concerned that something was wrong, Kim tried to hear what was being said, but she couldn’t. Edward’s voice was unintelligible, yet from its timbre Kim could tell that he was excited.

  Within a few minutes Edward returned. He was dressed in a bathrobe. As he tiptoed across the room en route to the bathroom, Kim told him she was awake. Changing directions, he came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I’ve got great news,” Edward whispered.

  “I’m awake,” Kim repeated. “You can speak normally.”

  “I was just talking to Eleanor,” Edward said.

  “At five forty-five in the morning?” Kim questioned. “Who on earth is Eleanor?”

  “She’s one of my postdocs,” Edward said. “She’s my right-hand person in the lab.”

  “This seems awfully early for shop talk,” Kim said. Involuntarily she thought of Grace Traters, her father’s supposed assistant.

  “She pulled an all-nighter,” Edward said. “Kevin sent over several more sclerotia from the new fungus last night. Eleanor stayed to prepare and run a crude sample through the mass spectrometer. The alkaloids don’t seem to be the same as those in Claviceps purpurea. In fact they appear to be three totally new alkaloids.”

  “I’m happy for you,” Kim said. It was far too early for her to say much else.

  “The most exciting thing is that I know at least one of them is psychoactive,” Edward said. “Hell, all three might be.” He rubbed his hands excitedly as if he were about to get to work that instant.

  “I can’t tell you how important this could be,” Edward continued. “We could have a new drug here, or even a whole family of new drugs. Even if they prove not to be clinically useful, they’ll undoubtedly be valuable as research tools.”

  “I’m glad,” Kim said. She rubbed her eyes; she wanted to get into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

  “It’s amazing how often serendipity plays a role in drug discovery,” Edward said. “Imagine finding a drug because of the Salem witch trials. That’s even better than the way Prozac was discovered.”

  “That was by accident?” Kim asked.

  “I should say.” Edward laughed. “The main researcher responsible was playing around with antihistamines and testing them in an experimental protocol that measured the effect on the neurotransmitter, norepinephrine. By serendipity he ended up with Prozac, which is not an antihistamine, and affects serotonin, another neurotransmitter, two hundred times more than it affects norepinephrine.”

  “That’s amazing,” Kim said, but she’d not been listening. Without having had her morning coffee, her mind wasn’t prepared for such intricacies.

  “I can’t wait to get working on these new alkaloids,” Edward said.

  “Do you want to change your mind about going up to Salem?” Kim asked.

  “No!” Edward said without hesitation. “I want to see that grave. Come on! As long as you’re awake, let’s go!” He gave Kim a playful shake of her leg through the covers.

  After showering, blow-drying her hair, and applying makeup, Kim left Edward’s apartment with him for another greasy but tasty breakfast in Harvard Square. Following their meal, they stopped into one of the many bookstores in the square. Their breakfast conversation had included a discussion of Puritanism. They both realized how little they knew about it, so they bought a few appropriate books. It was well after nine by the time they were on their way to the North Shore.

  Kim drove, since they were again reluctant to leave her car in the residents-only parking area in front of Edward’s apartment. With no traffic they made good time and were in Salem just before ten. Following the same route they had the previous Saturday, they again passed the Witch House.

  Edward reached out and grabbed Kim’s arm. “Have you ever visited the Witch House?” he asked her.

  “A long time ago,” Kim said. “Why? Are you interested?”

  “Don’t laugh, but I am,” Edward said. “Would you mind taking a few minutes?”

  “Not at all,” Kim said. She turned on Federal Street and parked near the courthouse. When they walked back they found they had to wait. The Witch House opened at ten. They also weren’t the only prospective visitors. There were a number of families and several couples already standing outside the old building.

  “It is amazing the appeal the Salem witch trials have,” Kim commented. “I wonder if people stop to think why it interests them so much.”

 
“Your cousin Stanton described the episode as ghoulishly seductive,” Edward said.

  “That sounds like Stanton,” Kim said.

  “He said the attraction is that it’s a window on the supernatural,” Edward added. “I happen to agree. Most people are a bit superstitious, and the witchcraft story titillates their imaginations.”

  “I agree,” Kim said. “But I’m afraid there’s also something perverse about the appeal. The fact that people were executed is key. Also, I don’t think it was an accident that there were many more witches than wizards. There’s a gender bias as well.”

  “Now don’t get too far out on any feminist plank,” Edward said. “I think there were more females involved because of the role of women in colonial culture. Obviously they were associated with birth and death, and health and disease, a lot more than men, and those aspects of life were shrouded with superstition and the occult. They simply didn’t have any other explanation for them.”

  “I think we’re both right,” Kim said. “I agree with you, but I’ve also been impressed with the little research I’ve done about the lack of legal status of women in Elizabeth’s time. The men were scared, and they took it out on the women. Misogyny was involved.”

  At that moment the door to the Witch House opened. Greeting them was a young woman in period costume. It was then that Kim and Edward learned that the visit to the house was a guided tour. Everyone trooped into the parlor and waited for the talk to begin.

  “I thought we would be allowed to wander around by ourselves,” Edward whispered.

  “I did too,” Kim replied.

  They listened while the young woman described the many furnishings in the room, including a Bible box which was said to be an invariable part of a Puritan household.

  “I’m losing interest,” Edward whispered. “Maybe we should go.”

  “Fine with me,” Kim said agreeably.

  They exited the building. When they reached the street, Edward turned around and faced the house.

  “The reason I wanted to go in was to see how much the interior resembled the cottage,” Edward said. “It’s amazing. It is as if they were built from the same plans.”