Page 65 of A Rose of Steel
“Oh my goodness, Auntie. I mean did he actually get any ricin?”
“Why didn’t you just say that? I can’t read your mind.” She took in a breath, her chest heaved up then back down. Her eyes went up like she was thinking. “I don’t think so.”
She went back to grinding whatever it was in her mortar.
“Auntie,” I said.
“What?”
“Can you tell me whatever you know without us having to go back and forth?”
“We grew the castor beans,” she said with a huff. “We knew you just can’t open up the castor bean and get ricin out. And if you don’t get it out the right way, it loses its toxicity.”
That made me know that what Alex had ingested, the small piece on his lip, probably wasn’t very toxic. It was still entangled in the bean and that wouldn’t be enough to kill.
“So are you telling me that Doc Westin wasn’t able to get access to any ricin from the castor beans you grew?”
“It’ll have a greater potential for killing, whether it’s cancer cells or people, if it’s been purified by a technical process, and that’s difficult for anyone to do. And it’s even harder to produce ricin that can be inhaled.”
“It sounds like you’re reading from a textbook. Just tell me what you’re saying.”
“It was too hard to use. So we suggested that that not be one of the alternatives he used, unless he wanted to spend time and effort trying to purify it.”
“Then what happened?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “It’s just all such a big mystery.”
Chapter Thirty
After I finished talking to Auntie, I went up to my room, J.R. following close at my heels. I was so frustrated with Auntie that I wasn’t sure what I’d learned from her would help me solve the case.
Did Doc Westin have ricin or just the castor bean and was unable to extract the deadly protein? And with the information that Auntie Zanne gave me about how hard it was to get, it made me wonder who was sophisticated enough to do it, or the resources to have it done.
I decided to take a little trip and do something I should have done a long time ago. But, first I called Alex and filled him in on all I knew, including the fact that there was no antidote. I also told him that not everyone who ingests it dies. I told him about ricin’s extraction process and how that fact alone lessened the chances of him having enough in him to kill him. And, we hadn’t noticed any of the symptoms—vomiting, diarrhea, low blood pressure and dehydration. He joked that maybe it was Auntie’s tea that saved him. Still we agreed. He should see a doctor.
After I hung up from Alex, I changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater, Texas night air in early October could be a little cool. I tied on a pair of tennis shoes, pulled my unruly hair back into a ponytail, and grabbed my purse.
“Come on, J.R., I’ve got to go out. I don’t know how long I’ll be, so you can wait downstairs in your own bed.”
I grabbed Auntie’s car keys from the wall caddy by the back door, then walked through the front of the house and out of the side entryway to the carport. She usually kept a car and a hearse out for late night runs. I took the car and drove to the ME’s office. I wanted to get a look into Doc Westin’s boxes because for some reason I kept running into his name.
My little talk with Auntie about ricin had marked the second time Doc Westin’s name had come up in our little investigation. The first time with him prescribing medicine for Bumper. I needed to process all she’d told me and see what I could find from what he’d left because for some reason it was really pestering me.
The pharmacist, Mr. McDougal, hadn’t thought anything was out of the ordinary when I questioned him about Doc Westin writing prescriptions for the high school’s athletes. “He was everyone’s doctor,” he had said.
I could understand him being the senior of the JOY Club’s doctor. He was, after all, in his early seventies, and that made him one of them. Healthcare wasn’t always available for their numerous and frequent ailments, nor was it always accessible. But why was he a seventeen-year-old’s doctor? At least that’s how old Bumper had been in high school. And did he continue to be his doctor once he left for college. How had that worked? Was he just prescribing medicine willy-nilly?
I drove to the parking lot. Three pole lamps illuminated the ME’s office. Like death it had odd hours. It was fortuitous that the Commissioners hadn’t asked me for my key or changed the code to the security system. They still trusted me with access. Even though it was completed, I could come and go as I pleased, and I really liked that.
I locked the car, punched in the code on the keypad for entry and flicked all the switches on the light panel as I entered. The lights flicked on as I walked across the floor. I had had Catfish store the boxes in a back room until I could get to them. It had only been three or four, but I thought it was better to keep them out of anyone else’s view, although besides Auntie and Catfish, no one else had been inside after it was completed.
The Commissioners were going to have to hire staff in addition to a full-time ME, but right now the place’s only occupant was me. I lifted one of the boxes marked personal off the top of two other boxes and took it out to the office and sat it on the desk.
I lifted the top of the box and peered inside. What were the odds that I’d pick the right box the first time? In this case zero. The box was filled with personal pictures, desk accessories and periodicals. I put the top back on and went and got another box. That one looked more promising.
It contained a handful of patient files. I pulled them out of the box and took a seat. Some of the names I recognized, some I didn’t, but perusing them I was able to note that all of them belonged to people over the age of sixty.
Where was Bumper’s file?
