The Anatomy of Deception - Lawrence Goldstone [20]
“Thank you,” I mumbled. “I was hoping someone would notice.”
“Raw egg and Worcestershire sauce,” she whispered. “Best thing.”
“I believe I’d rather be sick,” I replied, wondering how she had come by the information.
“At least you did better than poor Farnshaw,” she continued.
“Farnshaw?” Had Farnshaw been there last night? I was confused, but then remembered that Turk had befriended Farnshaw for a time.
“Turk took him out to some dive near the waterfront, just after he arrived here. It had some odd biblical name….”
“The Fatted Calf?” When Simpson confirmed my conjecture, I excused myself and sidled over to Farnshaw.
The young Bostonian had a compulsion to reveal everything that he knew to anyone who would listen, so it was not necessary to ask a direct question. I merely noted that Turk’s illness might have been due to other than a microbe.
“I couldn’t agree more, Carroll,” my young colleague replied eagerly. “From the evidence I’ve seen, it’s remarkable he can stand upright. I don’t think you know this, but he asked me to join him out one evening just after I came on the staff.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” Farnshaw said. “He told me that it must be difficult coming to a new city and working with strangers. I thought it was quite decent of him. We went first to dinner at a very lively restaurant….”
“Barker’s?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I’ve been there myself.”
“Ah. In any event, Turk could not have been more affable. He even insisted on paying, though by rights, the check should have been mine.”
“Why is that?”
Farnshaw grew uncomfortable. “It’s obvious … Turk … as we all know … must scrape by on a staff physician’s remuneration, whereas I am … uh …”
“Rich?”
“It is not my fault that I come from means,” he replied haughtily. “In any event,” he continued, “after we had finished dinner, Turk invited me to see some of the city and suggested a drinking establishment he knew. It was down in the waterfront district, but he assured me that I was quite safe with him and that we should have great fun.”
“And you went.”
“I’m sorry to say that I did. Don’t get me wrong, Carroll, it was great fun … for a time at least. But I’m afraid that I’m not as accustomed to revelry as I believed, and certainly not as much as is Turk. We drank prodigiously and I became somewhat intoxicated, although Turk, as I remember, was largely unaffected.”
“Was it just the two of you, or were you joined by Turk’s friends?”
“Just us. He did introduce me to a number of people, denizens of the place it seemed, including some most appealing ladies. He was quite familiar … he made sure everyone knew my name. ‘Here’s George,’ he said or, ‘Everyone, meet George.’ I believe that by the time we left, half of the men and women in the establishment knew who I was.”
“That was very generous of him,” I said. “Did he ever take you there again?”
“No,” said Farnshaw, demonstrating genuine puzzlement. “It was quite odd. When I told him on the way home how much I had enjoyed myself, he refused to even acknowledge me. Perhaps I embarrassed him by becoming intoxicated. I was quite ill, I’m afraid. It took three days to recover. But ever since, he has either ignored or made sport of me. Harvard fees, indeed.”
“Turk makes sport of everyone,” I reassured him.
“I know that,” replied Farnshaw, “but I thought he liked me.”
I felt more than a bit foolish to have been taken in by the same ploy used on my naïve colleague. I wondered why someone as calculating as Turk would waste his time on Farnshaw—or me, for that matter. Before I could inquire further, however, the Professor had moved to the entrance of the children’s ward and swung open the door.
We entered a large and airy room with tall windows that admitted bountiful light. At his insistence, beds had been moved to be at least three feet apart and screens made readily available so that a young patient might enjoy a modicum of privacy during treatment.
In the first bed lay a boy of nine with dark eyes and a mop of black hair, who had been admitted the previous day suffering from dizziness