Doris looked at them admiringly, as did her young friend, Ronald. Esther was a star in the ad world, and Olivia had done several ads, enough for people at the ceremony to recognize her.
“She’s fabulous!” Ronald said, looking at Olivia.
“She was. This is what’s left of her beauty. She’s quite old,” I said grumpily.
“She must be at least forty,” Doris said bluntly.
“I don’t think so, and even if she were, she’s attractive and elegant. She’s got class. You should learn from her,” Ronald said to Doris, trying to provoke her.
I walked away. I didn’t want to get caught in a fight between two starving people who were like stray dogs, ready to roll over for the first person who threw them a bone.
Esther was adored and respected by everyone she knew, and our table was visited by all the advertising hotshots, who didn’t hesitate to pay tribute to her talent.
Once again, Esther won a prize at the gala, on this occasion for the best television spot, a commercial for baby formula.
It was not new for her to win awards. When she went up to collect it I looked at her carefully. I thought that it would be hard for me to recognize the scruffy, insecure woman from Paul’s academy in this strong, smiling woman.
She was not blessed with beauty, but she was intelligent and, like all intelligent women, she knew how to get the best out of herself. Doris was beautiful, but vulgar. Esther was elegant. She had not always been so, but she was now. She knew how to dress, what jewelry to wear, how to move with grace. Everything about her radiated serenity.
Olivia had sat down near us. She smiled happily as she watched Esther accept the award. It was clear that they were friends and liked each other.
I felt nauseated. I made an effort to keep myself upright; I even managed to applaud Esther’s speech. I felt Olivia’s eyes on me and I was surprised at her smile. I had been at her apartment the day before and she had not smiled at me then with the strength that she displayed in this moment. Was she the murderer?
I made a decision. I would go see Paul in Miami. I would tell him of my suspicions. He would know what to say, how to guide me through the labyrinth that Esther and Olivia were building together and where I was, for the first time, lost. I would take Doris with me. I didn’t want to travel alone. If I felt ill I would at least have someone there to look after me.
I sent Doris a text message. She lifted her head, looked at me, and nodded.
I sent another message to Paul, telling him that I would be visiting him soon. I asked him to make me a doctor’s appointment, without Esther finding out. Paul wrote back at once. He’d do it. When Esther got back to the table she looked at me expectantly. I think she had seen me engrossed in my cell phone while she was onstage.
I don’t know how I made it through the rest of the night. But I did. On the way home, Esther would not stop talking about the ceremony. I didn’t listen to her. I was so dizzy that my vision started to blur. I felt pressure moving from my heart up my throat. I didn’t even say good night when we got home. I went to my room and threw myself down on the bed. I don’t know how long I was there, but suddenly I jerked awake. I looked over at the door and there she was, very serious, looking at me.
“Are you all right, Thomas?” she asked in a cold, indifferent voice.
“I drank too much to celebrate your success. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“I don’t know…You look odd. Do you want me to help you get into your pajamas?”
“Go to sleep. I don’t need anything.”
“Good night, Thomas. If it turns out you do need anything, just call me,” she said, with a half-smile that scared me.
I spent the rest of the night lying in bed. I could barely feel my legs or my arms and I felt so nauseated I couldn’t move. I must have fallen asleep because the maid’s voice woke me.
“Sorry, I thought you had left already. I’ll do your room later.”
I sat up. My head was no longer spinning. A shower woke me up completely. Although the maid insisted, I didn’t want to eat anything.
“Your wife made coffee and left your pills. She asked me to make sure you take them,” she said.
The one thing I didn’t want to do was take any medicine that had come through Esther’s hands.
I went to see Dr. Douglas. After running several tests for the umpteenth time, he concluded that I wasn’t taking the right dosage of anticoagulants, and again changed my prescription.
“Sometimes a particular medicine doesn’t fit well with an individual patient,” he said. “And we’re not getting the dosage of anticoagulants right. But we have a lot of different medicines nowadays, so let’s try another one. Jantoven: I hope it works better. Of course it’s essential that you stick with the diet I recommended. A man with a heart condition can’t eat what he wants, much less smoke and drink.”
I had scarcely recovered when I came to a decision. Given that Dr. Douglas was incapable of diagnosing what was happening to me, I would find a doctor who could give me an explanation before I headed to Miami.
It wasn’t hard for me to find the name and place of work of the expert who had appeared in the Discovery Channel documentary on poisons. Professor Johnson was a famous professor at NYU, an expert in botany and pharmacology.
I got in touch with the university and had several meetings in which I made it clear that I had a yen for philanthropy and had decided to donate a certain amount of money for scholarships, but didn’t know where to funnel it. I was given several options; the university officials were eager to receive several hundreds of thousands of dollars from me. But I already knew that my money was destined for Professor Johnson’s department. If they thought it was strange, they said nothing. Money is money, after all. In the end they arranged for me to meet Johnson and he agreed to see me, thanks to the significant donation I was making.
I listened to his explanations patiently for half an hour, as he told me what his department did and how my money would help them. Then, when he expected me to get up and leave, I surprised him by asking a question: “Professor, I have a very significant personal reason for wanting to find out more about the poisonous capacities of certain plants.”
The man could not hide his surprise and seemed to shrink back behind the table. I smiled at him to calm him down.
“I know it might seem silly to you, but I’m giving your department a donation because I saw you a few months ago in a TV show, on the Discovery Channel I think it was. Do you remember? A surprising documentary about poisons.”
“Ah, yes, I remember, they asked my opinion. I don’t suppose you want to poison anyone…” he said, laughing, but slightly nervously.
“Of course not. What a thing to imagine! It was just that I was so impressed by you. That’s why I wanted my money to go to your department, which I know is in need of funds.”
“And my department is very grateful to you,” he said warily.
“Professor, what I want to know is if, as you explained in the show, there are substances that can put people’s lives at risk.”
“Well, it’s not impossible, but it’s not easy either. But if you tell me exactly what it is you want to know…I think that…well…you have a special interest in this topic.”
“It’s confidential, professor. I can’t offer you a detailed explanation. But I’ll give you an example. What about a middle-aged man with a weak heart, who suddenly starts to feel extremely ill because of the anticoagulants he’s taking?”
“Anticoagulants can kill, Mr. Spencer. Doctors lose a number of patients by administering improper levels of medication. It happens every day, although no one talks about it, of course.”
“And so…”
“Medicine can cure, but it can also kill. Everything depends on the dosage, the patient, on so many other factors…Anticoagulants are necessary, are vital in the treatment of certain illnesses. The doctor needs to know what dosage each patient needs.”
“And so, if the patient should id
eally take half a pill and he’s prescribed a whole one…”
“Well, if he doesn’t need the whole pill then he could have an internal hemorrhage, but if he needs a pill and a half and doesn’t take it, he could suffer a coronary thrombosis.”
“And if he dies…”
“Bad luck.”
“Just that?”
“Well, I don’t know what else I can tell you. Sometimes if the dosage of anticoagulants isn’t correct there can be internal ‘mini hemorrhages’ that aren’t picked up.”
“And that happens?”
“Of course it happens, but it’s not anyone’s fault. And today we can very carefully control the dosage that a patient needs to take, so there’s no need to be scared. If this is your case, then you should try to talk honestly to your doctor.”
“And can you kill someone using plants?”
Professor Johnson looked at me worriedly, but he must have thought about my generous donation and, although the tenor of the conversation must have upset him, he decided to continue and answer my questions.
“Well, Mr. Spencer, there are plants that can cause a great deal of trouble depending on how you take them. Have you ever taken ginkgo biloba? I’m sure you’ve seen it advertised. It’s a Chinese plant, also known as ‘the tree of forty shields.’ It has an anticoagulant effect and it’s used to help with circulation; it’s also used for the nervous system, for Parkinson’s disease, even for hair loss, but it can have side effects. If the dosage is wrong, it can cause anxiety, vomiting, diarrhea…And if you mix it with other anticoagulants, like Coumadin or others, it can lead to hemorrhages. The same thing happens with ginger and garlic. As you can see, plants can have beneficial as well as unpleasant effects. And when combined with other drugs, they can affect our health. But this doesn’t mean that ginger, or garlic, or ginkgo biloba themselves are harmful. Quite the contrary.”
“But ginkgo biloba is freely available?” I asked in fright.
“Of course. There are lots of people who take it and feel great.”
I asked him what would happen if one mixed an anticoagulant with plants that also had an anticoagulant effect.
“As I said, it depends on the dosage, but it could cause an internal hemorrhage or…well, imagine a worst-case scenario.”
He spoke to me a little about Saint-John’s-wort. Apparently people take it for depression.
“It’s a woodland plant, although it’s forbidden in certain countries precisely because of its secondary effects.”
“Well, if plants can be that dangerous…”
“But you can cause a great deal of damage just with a few simple blackberries.”
“Blackberries?”
“If you pick blackberries when they’re green or white, and eat them, you can suffer hallucinations because your nervous system becomes overstimulated. Green and white blackberries are filled with a toxin, a saponin, which is like latex. Or oleanders: their leaves, their flowers, their seeds are all poisonous. If you eat them, after a few hours you’ll start to get dizzy, throw up, have diarrhea…But no adult would ever think of eating them. I’m talking about plants that are not in the food chain to any extent. I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of philodendrons.”
“Well, no, I don’t know what that is.”
“I’m sure you do. A houseplant that you might even have in your own home. It’s ornamental. Here, I’ve got one by the window.”
I looked at it. He was right, I had seen them in people’s houses from time to time; Olivia had one in her apartment.
“No one would ever think that they should eat a philodendron leaf. If you did, you’d have serious stomach pains, liver failure, and even a seizure. All because of the calcium oxalate it contains.”
I wondered if Olivia might have slipped a philodendron leaf into one of her elaborate salads.
I turned my attention back to Professor Johnson, who was now talking about nutmeg.
“The nutmeg peel contains myristicin, an insecticide that is a potent neurotoxin and causes nausea, vomiting, headaches, paranoia…Solanine is a toxic glycoalkaloid which you find in unripe tomatoes and eggplants; it also causes vomiting and diarrhea. And there’s ricin, of course. Yes, Ricinus communis, which comes from a bush. It has dark leaves and its seeds are toxic because of an albumin called ricin that can, even in small quantities, cause death. Hydrangeas—so pretty—they have a compound called hydragin in them that is a cyanogenic glycoside, which can be dangerous. Or brugmansia, ‘angels’ trumpets’…or even common laurel…the flowers smell like vanilla but they’re toxic; they contain oleandrin, which is a glycoside that can cause an irregular heartbeat, tachycardia, and even cardiac arrest.”
Professor Johnson’s explanations made my hair stand on end. Many of the symptoms I was suffering were similar to those caused by the plants he was describing. Symptoms that occasionally appeared after Olivia had prepared me a sumptuous meal. And as for the anticoagulants that Esther was giving me, I had never bothered to check if the dosage was correct. All I did was put the pills in my mouth and swallow them with a bit of water. After Professor Johnson’s lesson, I felt that my intuition had been confirmed: the anticoagulants that Esther gave me every morning, and the food that Olivia cooked for me, with their spices and odd herbs, could be causing this deterioration in my health. But was either of them really capable of doing something like this? I was suspicious of them, but at the same time I said to myself that they weren’t brave enough to kill me, because they both had consciences. Or maybe I didn’t know them as well as I thought I did. They might have conspired together to do this without raising suspicions. A few hydrangea seeds, a slightly higher dosage of anticoagulant…
Had my wife and my lover found a way to kill me without leaving any trace? At least, that’s what they thought.
Professor Johnson seemed to be enthusiastic as he spoke about a series of plants I did not know: Melia azedarach, Datura stramonium, Ficus carica, Ilex aquifolium, Conium maculatum…Impossible names that I barely managed to retain in my head.
I don’t know how long we spoke, but I remember there was a moment when I felt dizzy.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“A little tired. But thank you for your explanations. It’s been interesting and instructive to hear what you have to say.”
“Well, you’re a benefactor for my department, and if all you want is for me to help satisfy your curiosity…I never would have imagined that the documentary would have this much of an impact.”
“Well, that documentary is exactly what brought me to you.”
When I left Professor Johnson’s office, I booked two tickets to Miami on the first afternoon flight. I sent a message to Doris to tell her when to meet me at the airport.
I felt better. I packed my suitcase and called a cab to take me to the agency.
I went into Esther’s office, even though she was in a meeting with a couple of creatives and I knew she hated it when she was interrupted while she was working.
“Could you give me a moment?”
She frowned, but got up and left her office.
“What is it?”
“I’m going to Miami. We have a potential client there and I think it would do me good to have a bit of a rest. Plus, I want to catch up with Paul. I’ll be away for a few days.”
“Who’s the client?” she asked without any interest.
“A man who runs a chain of hotels. He said Paul had referred him to me…We’ll see if he’s worth the trouble.”
“Well, take care and give Paul my regards. I’ll come with you next time—I want to see him too.”
Doris was waiting impatiently for me at the airport. With no makeup and in jeans she was even more attractive than when she got all dressed up. She was excited when she saw that we were traveling business class.
—
Paul had booked us a hotel in Miami Beach, sure that this was what a girl like Doris would want. He was right. He invited us to the best seafood restaurant in town, r
ight by the ocean. He was the owner’s friend, so we were seated at a table set slightly aside, where I could smoke without attracting judgmental glances. The waves beat against the shore, and some surfers were defying the first shades of dusk. We chatted about inconsequential matters. What I needed to tell him would have to remain between the two of us.
“Thomas, I’m worried that you’re not taking care of yourself…You should stop smoking; you’ve gone through half a pack in the two hours we’ve been here. And don’t drink so much; you’re on your fourth whiskey,” my old friend said reproachfully.
The next morning I sent Doris to the beach and gave her a couple hundred dollars to go shopping if she got bored tanning in the sun. I said I had a few business meetings to get to and might not be back until the evening. She didn’t care. She was young, she was in Miami Beach, and for a few hours she could pretend she was free to do whatever she wanted.
Paul was waiting for me at his apartment, where a beautiful young woman looked after him. You didn’t need to be a psychic to know that there was something more than a professional relationship between them.
We sat on the terrace and the girl brought us two glasses of white wine and a plate of seafood.
“Since when do you drink wine in the morning?” I asked.
“It’s better than gin or whiskey. Come on, have a drink, just a glass, it’ll make you feel better. Now tell me what it is that has you so worried you needed to come and see me in person.”
“They’re poisoning me.”
Paul started to laugh so aggressively that the girl came out to see what was going on. He waved her away, but didn’t stop laughing.
“You’re nuts, Thomas! Who’s poisoning you?” he asked when he finally regained control.
Story of a Sociopath Page 80
