The Anatomy of Deception - Lawrence Goldstone [59]
Borst pursed his lips, then nodded. “All right, Doc. If that’s the way you want it. But we have a killing here and, as you two were so helpful in showing us, the amount of arsenic that this fellow swallowed was just the right amount to make it look like cholera. That means that whoever slipped this fellow the poison knew what they were doing … follow my reasoning?”
He was correct in that the dose would have been required to be administered with some precision to mimic death by cholera. Too much would have killed Turk within minutes; too little might have allowed him to recover. In other words, whoever had poisoned Turk had knowledge of the substance that could come only with experience or education.
“I follow your reasoning precisely,” the Professor replied. “Let me ask you this, then: If we were the someones, why would we be the ones to tell you that it was arsenic poisoning and not cholera?”
“I ain’t got that part figured out yet,” Borst admitted. The man was like a terrier, marking his boundaries. “And I didn’t say you were the ones that done it. I don’t think you are … couple of respectable fellows. But that don’t mean that you don’t have some idea who did … and why they did. I know you doctors think that what you do for a living gives you the right to play God, but we lowly police don’t see it that way. So I’ll say good day for now, but I expect we’ll get to chat again.”
“We are always at your service, Sergeant,” said the Professor.
And in that mood of mutual dissatisfaction, Sergeant Borst turned to leave. Before he reached the door, however, I cleared my throat. “Sergeant,” I said, “may I ask a question?”
“Why not?” he replied. “You sure ain’t given me no answers.”
“I was hoping to take Turk’s books as a remembrance. Would it be acceptable if I had them sent to my rooms?”
“Books?” he replied, the smirk returning. “Sure.” Sergeant Borst heaved an exaggerated sigh. “You people got the strangest ideas.”
“A singularly unpleasant man,” observed the Professor, after the sergeant had departed.
“Yes,” I agreed, “but far from incompetent. And I believe he is correct in his assumption that drugs and illegal surgeries are the most likely to be so lucrative.” With all that had passed, I still had difficulty believing that Turk had sunk to such depths as to mutilate women simply to line his pockets.
“That is assuming that Turk’s funds were acquired through the use of his medical expertise. Let us not dismiss the possibility that his medical career was coincidental to whatever other activities he was engaged in.”
“You think that likely?” I asked.
“As you said yesterday, I believe, ‘not a theory, but it cannot be ruled out.’ In any case, what I said to that disagreeable fellow is true. I am shocked to find out that a member of the staff has betrayed us so. I’m saddened too, Carroll. He was so bright … so very bright. It is a tragedy that it all ended like this.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“I need to speak with you on a different topic,” the Professor interjected. “This one, I hope, a good deal happier. As I’m sure you expected, I intend to accept the appointment in Baltimore. I will submit a letter of resignation today to the university and send a telegram to Johns Hopkins. This weekend, I will visit Baltimore and I would like you to accompany me. You can have a look at the facilities—which promise to be extraordinary—and you can also meet the men with whom you will be working.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “That will be excellent. And may I please express my gratitude once more for your consideration.”
“Applesauce,” replied the Professor, with a wave of the hand. “There is no gratitude necessary. I will say once again that no man need be grateful for that which he has earned.”
“May I ask you something, Dr. Osler?”
“Of course.”
“If the dinner had gone better … or at least not so poorly … would your decision have been the same?”
The Professor laughed. “The dinner had nothing at all to do with it,” he replied. “Weir and Hayes both knew before we even set foot in old Benedict’s palace that I was going to leave.