The one named Victoria continued. “He’s a runner. Training for the Olympic marathon. They give them strychnine to run faster. I’m glad he’s alive. Idiot.”
“They give the athletes strychnine?” Grace asked. “Why on earth?”
“It’s a cocktail of raw eggs and brandy. And strychnine.”
“Don’t they know that could kill them?” Grace asked.
The one not named Victoria shrugged. “The price of glory.”
“Paid for by idiots,” Victoria added.
Interesting. That was yet another use for strychnine that she hadn’t heard of before.
So presumably, someone could get strychnine in the athletic department.
She was about to write it down in the list in her notebook when she glanced up and saw a familiar face.
“Dr. May!” she called.
She hurriedly put away her notebook and caught up with the doctor.
“I remember you,” Dr. May said. “Lillie’s friend.”
“Her cousin. I’m Grace. I wanted to thank you so much for helping my brother Walt. It means a great deal to me.”
“It was clear from our first meeting how much he means to you,” Dr. May said. “How is he doing?”
Grace swallowed. “They haven’t let me see him yet.”
Dr. May glanced toward the front desk and sighed.
“Bertha. She’s a real piece of work.”
“Is there anything you could do? I just… need to see him.”
Dr. May narrowed her eyes.
“Follow me,” she said.
She led Grace through the winding, white corridors and up two flights of stairs, where she spoke with another doctor. They conversed quietly and then the other doctor walked away.
Dr. May gave Grace a brief nod.
“You can have five minutes,” she said.
“Thank you,” Grace breathed. “For your great kindness.”
She braced herself and stepped through the door.
Walt was lying in a bed, his eyes closed.
Lillie had warned her, but Grace was still taken aback by the state of his face. Mottled and purpled, with a few stitches around his mouth.
“Do you see?” he had once said, holding her up when she was about six. “The birds made a nest in the house I built. I wanted their babies to be safe.”
She stood watching him for a moment. And she could have cried.
Why did Grace carry wounds around like bruises and Walt like gashes, gashes that grew untended and infected, spreading throughout him like poison?
