Death of the Toad

by William McMurray

CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning at breakfast Janet explained her theory excitedly to Kay.

  "It was really your clue about the drug-induced intolerance to food that got me on the track. And then I got thinking about the classical case of disulfiram poisoning, at least it started out as a case of poisoning, and finally produced a way of treating chronic alcoholism. It was one of those famous instances of serendipity in science."

  "You mean when you go out drilling for water and strike oil instead?" interjected Kay. "My great-uncle had that misfortune in Petrol Springs in the last century. Made an unholy mess of the well. Too bad he sold out his rights to a Mr. Rockefeller, who the natives thought to be a lunatic for showing interest in that mucky grease!"

  "Just so," replied Janet. "The trick is to recognize when the unplanned result is not misfortune after all. In this case a couple of Danish biochemists about forty years ago were searching for chemicals that would kill intestinal worms, antihelminthic agents as they are called, without harm to the infected patient. They found this simple compound, tetraethylthiuram disulfide-"

  "That's a simple compound?"

  “Well, simple and cheap to make. I just looked up the formula to impress you.”

  "OK, so it was cheap. Go on."

  "Right, cheap plus very effective. It was lethal to the parasites when given orally to experimental animals harbouring worms, and it seemed to have no ill-effects on the animal hosts."

  "So they started to feed it to human patients with worms?"

  "No," Janet went on. "First they reckoned they had better check that it was really safe in humans as well as laboratory rats so they administered the drug to some normal volunteers."

  "Graduate students or medical students I'll be thinking. They volunteer for anything if there’s money involved."

  "Actually, they took it themselves."

  "That's known as having the courage of your convictions," Kay pronounced.

  "They took gradually increasing doses until they reached the therapeutic level, that is, high enough to kill parasites in the animal studies."

  "And I suppose they did themselves in?"

  "Not quite. But they were both mighty sick," Janet explained. "The interesting thing about it was that they had been taking the disulfiram all week. No effects at all. Just like the study with rats, it seemed to be quite innocuous. Then a few days after, on the weekend I guess, one of them went to a party, took one drink and passed out."

  "Must have been some drink! Like one of your Professor's super-martinis?"

  "Just an ordinary cocktail, apparently. And when he got to the lab next day and compared notes with his colleague he found he had been acutely ill at another party. Same symptoms exactly."

  "Which were?"

  "I just looked that up too," admitted Janet. "Reddening of the face, pounding of the heart, vomiting, fainting."

  "But they both recovered you say?"

  "They recovered, medically and scientifically. Although the stuff couldn't be used as an anti-helminthic agent, which they had set out to find, they realized that the combination of a drug that was otherwise harmless, together with the really obnoxious effects after drinking could lead to a type of aversion therapy for alcohol abuse. So they renamed it antabuse."

  "Yes, I've heard of that treatment. But the alcoholic takes the drug knowingly?"

  "Absolutely. It must be done with full fore-knowledge and consent. It's usually just the prospect of the after-effects that does the trick. If the patient actually takes a drink it's pretty awful ."

  "Even fatal?" asked Kay thoughtfully.

  "That I don't know," Janet admitted.

  "But it does seem consistent with Dr. Pinkney's fainting spells," said Kay.

  "And with the timing."

  "Yes. He would only show the effects at public functions, where a minimal intake of alcohol would produce maximal embarrassment. But how could somebody get him to take it? I suppose you'd have to take it continuously or the effect would wear off."

  "I don't know that either," said Janet. "Anyone could have tampered with his food or drink, I suppose. It wouldn't have to have been at work either."

  "True," Kay agreed. "Someone might have tampered with some other medication he took habitually. An aspirin bottle, for example."

  Janet thought rather unhappily of Jeremy's so-called alibi; he might have been living somewhere else but all he would have needed was one opportunity to load his father’s pill bottle. From then on it would have been a matter of Russian roulette, with chance determining whether the Principal took the disguised antabuse dose soon enough before having a drink. Jerry could well have been in another city by the time the two events coincided. He had been a bit too quick in asserting his ignorance of poisons- didn't he protest too much- leading one to suspect that he was not so ignorant or innocent as he tried to make out. And what of the other person whom she reluctantly suspected. Professor Antwhistle; he most certainly would have known the consequences of antabuse administration to a man who had struggled previously with an alcohol problem. Even Hilda Pinkney could not be eliminated from suspicion, as the individual with the easiest opportunity on a day to day basis.

  "Of course," she concluded, "it's only conjecture and circumstantial evidence so far."

  "Though I should remind you that ‘some circumstantial evidence is very strong, as when you find a trout in the milk-pail‘."

  "Shaw?"

  "Thoreau."

  "Does he have any advice for dealing with red herrings?"

  "Touché!" Kay responded, "I suppose we have little chance of finding the trout by now in any case."

  "Perhaps not," said Janet. "However, I think it might not be amiss if we had firmer ground for the medical facts before any other kind of fishing expedition. Do you suppose that I might arrange a chat with your friend Dr. Tower without muddying the waters too badly?"

  The two women put their heads together over a third cup of coffee. By the time they had finished, and Janet set off to work on her bike she was aghast to hear the University clock striking ten.

  "A dillar, a dollar," thought Janet, and tried to calm herself after all the arousing discussion and overdose of caffeine she had experienced.

  If Dr. Tower was unoccupied with medical matters in the evening, he more than made up for it during the day Janet reflected as she sat in a full anteroom to the University Health Clinic. Fortunately she had brought several reprints along and managed to catch up a bit on her reading during the forty-five minute sit in the waiting-room. When she was finally ushered into his office Dr. Tower seemed at first not to recognize her, then glanced at her records card and recalled their earlier meeting at the Pinkney's.

  "I'm afraid the matter I've come to see you about is more personal than medical," Janet began, and she unloaded her theory concerning the Principal's recurrent attacks. The doctor stared at her solemnly during the recital, and when she had finished, got up from his chair and walked to the window thoughtfully stroking his chin. After a moment or two of silence he strode purposefully to the telephone and spoke some soft instructions to the listener.

  "What you have surmised is preposterous-" He paused fixing Janet with, a stern expression, "-and yet, your idea seems to be consistent with the events. In any case, we will not be disturbed for a while so we can pursue this idea a bit further," and he proceeded to examine Janet closely on the sequence of events.

  "If the story is true as you relate it there would seem to be grounds for a full investigation. The problem, of course, is a complete lack of concrete evidence. It's a totally speculative thing isn't it Dr. Gordon. You as a scientist must appreciate that?"

  "I know it's nothing more than a hypothesis," Janet admitted, "And I would be the last person to wish to raise a hue and cry that could unnecessarily embarrass the family or the University. Only what if it's true?" she asked miserably.

  "I can appreciate your dilemma," said Dr. Tower. "I was not Dr. Pinkney's physician. In fact I barely knew him socially, so I
have little idea about his medical history. Moreover, I'm not a toxicologist and have no experience with treatment of alcoholics. However, I do know Dr. Whiteman who looked after the Principal’s family for several years. I am sure I can count on you to be discrete about this; if Dr, Whiteman can in any way verify your suspicions I’ll get back to you and see that appropriate steps are taken. In the meantime no-one else must know of our conversation."

  Janet paused for a moment before replying, and in the interval noticed that the serious demeanour of the doctor had turned, to a broad grin.

  "Except, of course, for your landlady," he concluded with obvious delight at her discomfiture.

  "I didn't read your mind Dr. Gordon, I simply noted your home address on the records card. That house had special associations for me you know. And then Kay's peculiar visit last evening bore too many coincidences with your account. I thought at the time that she was no doubt giving me symptoms of one of her p.g.'s who was in some sort of trouble. Well, I guess I was right in a way. But Kay McKay never in her life took any medication stronger than aspirin. Tell her for me to take two chocolates before bed and call me in the morning!"

  "He said that did he?" exclaimed Kay over the phone. "Anyway he didn't throw you out of the office, or refer you to a psychiatrist for treatment of delusions."

  "No," said Janet, "but the implication was there, and if this Dr. Whiteman doesn't come up with some support-"

  "Don't fret until we hear back from him," Kay advised. "There's not much we could do till then anyway is there?" and she hung up.

  Janet had to admit that she had pushed herself out onto a slender limb, which showed every sign of dropping her into oblivion. If Dr. Whiteman was indeed pursuing the surviving medications on the home-front and the result were negative, she could at least shift her suspicions from family to the University community. But preposterous though her hypothesis might be in the eyes of Dr. Tower, unless the Principal's medicine chest provided evidence of tampering she would never be sure about Jeremy and his mother. As far as the people at work were concerned, there had been so many opportunities amid the confusion of University social functions that it should have been easy for the poisoner to remain undetected. Perhaps if Dr. Whiteman’s discrete investigation failed it would be better to accept Dr. Tower's admonition and forget about it entirely. In the meantime there was one other avenue to explore. Janet went across the campus to the Principal's suite in search of Mrs. Halinka.

  Morton Hall, a mock-classic structure of Gothic limestone and ivy, commanded the height of land that was the pinnacle of Essex University's rolling campus. The office of the Principal surmounted the battlements of the administration building with a wide bowed window overlooking the river valley. Small wonder, considered Janet, that a man so elevated to the role of chief administrator might entertain thoughts of megalomania from this vantage point. 'Gaze on my works ye mighty and despair!' Janet left her bicycle by the archway leading into the rear courtyard and ascended the stairs to the tower-room.

  Mrs. Halinka was absent from her customary reception post, and the chair of the other secretary who normally occupied the outer office was also vacant. The door to the inner suite was partly ajar and Janet could see the silhouette of a woman’s figure against the light of the window. She rapped softly on the door which opened somewhat further to reveal Doris Lindsay packing books and other assorted objects from the wall shelves into a number of cardboard boxes.

  "Oh, pardon me," said Janet. "Is Mrs. Halinka here?"

  "Left after lunch, feeling ill."

  Doris Lindsay delivered this telegraphic response brusquely and continued with the packing. She bustled officiously across to the late Principal’s desk with a small vase of rather decayed dried flowers, then seemed to catch her heel and pitched forward. Janet helped her into the chair behind the desk where she sat with her head in her hands. After a few minutes she collected herself and looked up.

  "Thanks for helping. Bad headache- felt dizzy- whew!" Doris shook her blonde head and took a deep breath. "Too much of an upset, all this," and she nodded toward the boxes.

  "What's all this?" asked a voice from the doorway. Janet turned around to see Jeremy Pinkney with several empty boxes in his arms. She explained about Doris's 'spell' and the illness of Mrs. Halinka.

  "I suspect they may both have a bit of a virus infection. My assistant in the lab had a similar thing a few days ago, and judging by the lineups in Dr. Tower's office it may be a local epidemic."

  "Well, I think I had better take you home, Doris," said Jerry solicitously. "This stuff will not walk away. Come on, I have the family wagon down below," and he steered Mrs. Lindsay toward the elevator.

  Janet saw them out into the courtyard and walked back to her bike. But as the rear end of the Pinkney automobile swung from view she changed her mind and re-entered the building. The Principal's suite was still unoccupied as she got off the elevator. Across the hall a clatter of typewriters could be heard from the office of the Board of Regents, but no-one looked out as Janet stepped into Dr. Pinkney's office and quietly closed the door behind her.

  Dr. Pinkney's personal effects had been partly boxed, and the remainder were clustered on the desk top and the low shelf along the window embrasure. Apart from the books and the odd vase or paper-weight there was little that reflected the late Principal's personality. There was a non-descript brown tea-pot and kettle on a tray with a few cups and saucers. In the far corner of the room Janet noticed a doorknob projecting from the panelled oak wainscoting. She pulled it open to reveal a small washroom. However, the wall shelf and medicine cabinet were empty, and the open boxes in the office also failed to reveal any medicine bottles. After a quick and fruitless look through the desk drawers Janet returned to the outer office and knocked on the frosted glass panel of the door to the office of the Regents.

  "I’m afraid that both secretaries from the Principal's office have been taken ill," she reported to the receptionist. "I thought I should tell you that the office is empty."

  "Oh dear!" The receptionist accompanied her back to the outer office. "Perhaps I had better call Mr. Lindsay and Dr. Halinka. Seems to be a lot of that summer flu about.

  "Yes," Janet agreed. "I should make a phone call myself. Do you suppose it would be all right to use one of the telephones here? I know Dr. Halinka, so I could call him for you ."

  "Of course. I'll just lock Dr. Pinkney's door," and she returned to her own desk closing the door behind her.

  Janet sat down at Doris Lindsay's desk and rang the Chemistry Department. The Professor expressed surprise and some irritation that his wife had not phoned him herself. Whether this was out of concern for her health or for the fact that he might have had a needless trip to collect her after work was not apparent but Janet suspected the latter reason.

  "Well, thank you for letting me know," he concluded. "She went home just after lunch?"

  "Yes," replied Janet. "And Mrs. Lindsay seemed to be similarly affected. She also went home a short time ago. Must have the same bug."

  "I suppose so," Professor Halinka replied, and he rang off.

  Janet sat quietly for a moment, her hand still on the telephone receiver. The Professor had been more exasperated than concerned over his wife's condition, but he seemed the type of person more suited to the expression of exasperation than concern. Funny, she thought, how affection in marriage can turn sour like that: love, jealousy, hate, one leading to the other. What of Margaret Butler’s hypothesis anyway? Did Dr. Halinka and Mr. Lindsay have any true grounds for suspicion about the Principal's relations with his secretaries? And if so were there any grounds for suspicion about the two husbands in question? There had been no obvious sources of medication in the Principal’s office; perhaps Jeremy had already carted away the boxes with contents of the medicine cabinet or desk drawers. Had he been responsible for doping the drugs surely they would have been among the first things to be removed from here or at the house. The more she thought about it the less likely it
appeared to her that the evidence would still be around.

  Perhaps she should call Julia and check on the lab. That was the reason she had started to use the phone. Janet lifted the receiver, then set it down again after a glance at the wall-clock. It was now half-past three and Julia would doubtless be in the coffee-room. Her eye caught the coffee-machine on the table beneath the clock. Under normal circumstances Mrs. Halinka probably would be bringing the coffee in to the Principal and his confreres in the inner office about now. Or did he take tea in the afternoons, or perhaps, decaffeinated coffee? Janet idly speculated on the Principal's habits, and walked over to the coffee table. Beside the coffee machine there were two jars of instant coffee, one regular, one decaffeinated. There were also two jars containing sugar and two which had powdered coffee creamer, the same brand, both nearly full, and both opened.

  Janet sat down again and puzzled over the contents of the coffee table. Possibly the late Dr. Pinkney, concerned as he may have been with trigger-factors for migraine, was avoiding the caffeine-containing coffee. Or perhaps it was kept for non-caffeine imbibing guests. Maybe he was in the office after hours when there was no-one there to run the coffee machine for him. That could explain the need for the instant coffee. But why the two sugar and creamer jars? Possibly as a reserve supply, or possibly, just possibly- Janet lifted the telephone excitedly and made another call to the Chemistry Department. She busied herself in the office for a few minutes, spoke briefly, to the receptionist in the Regent’s office, hurried out and wresting her bicycle from branches of the pendant ivy in the courtyard, pedalled furiously across the campus.

  Bob Woodward's office in the Chemistry Department was situated in the lower ground floor of the Sciences Building with the window almost level with the tennis courts outside, a wholly satisfactory arrangement for the tennis-playing chemist. At one time he had been a demonstrator in a chemistry course that Janet had taken as an undergraduate, and when he realized her capabilities on the court, had recruited her as a doubles partner. The pair had attained some success in local tournaments, reaching the finals on two occasions. They chatted about tennis for the first few minutes to the accompaniment of racquets thumping balls, and then Janet turned the conversation to the reason for her visit,

  "I found some tetraethylsulfiram while you were on the way over ," said Bob holding up a kilogram jar. "Should be: enough to treat the entire Faculty Club!"

  "Did you manage to find an analytical procedure?" asked Janet.

  "Unless you need an accurate quantitation it should be fairly easy explained Bob. "Reduce, do a nitroprusside test to estimate the amount of disulphide in your samples, then do a separation along with an equivalent amount of authentic compound on a couple of thin-layer chromatography systems. That should at least confirm or deny the presence of something pretty close in chemical properties to the standard in your sample."

  "Well, it certainly beats taking it ourselves!"

  "And you think someone was deliberately dosed with Antabuse this way, in the coffee? What a rotten trick!"

  "You don’t mind if I seem a bit mysterious about who it was? There are a few confidential aspects of this prank."

  Bob reassured her, and took the samples Janet had brought into the lab. She followed in a borrowed lab-coat, and together they set about performing the tests. The sounds of volleys had died away, and daylight had faded by the time that they had obtained their results, but neither seemed to notice the passing of the hours or the lack of food.

  "Both sugar samples negative and one of the creamers," summarized Bob. "But the other creamer sample sure was loaded! Couple of teaspoons of that each day and you'd get several hundred milligrams. Nearly as much as an alcoholic under therapy. When you stop to think of it, it was pretty sure-fire."

  "The dose would be assured every day for an inveterate coffee drinker."

  "Yes, and they probably wouldn't guess from taste or other-signs. The stuff is fairly water-insoluble as you've noticed from the standard. That might have given it away if it were in the sugar, but the opacity of the creamer would disguise that. A pretty cunning prankster!"

  "You do think it was only a prank?"

  "No doubt," answered Bob. "Our poisoner knew what he was up to. If he had access to the creamer he could add just enough to get the desired response,"

  "And there would be little chance of any really serious effects then?"

  "Pretty unlikely. Oh, there could be a few side-effects, but nothing to incur suspicion. Just the nausea and so forth after drinking. What put you onto it anyway?"

  "Just two ladies with simultaneous symptoms," answered Janet cryptically as she got up to leave.

  "Well, you can thank me later, when you have the whole story for me, on the tennis court."

  In the academic calendar, some days go by imperceptibly, unnoticed except by scrupulous secretaries who check dates off on their diaries. At Essex University most days throughout the year were gobbled up in this manner, with faculty meetings, graduate seminars, lectures to unwilling or sleepy undergraduates, and the persistent, plodding, prying and spying which is termed 'research'. But certain twenty-four hour periods are emblazoned like the illuminated opening characters of a medieval manuscript. The glory may originate with word of a promotion, acknowledgment of an accepted publication, revelation of a new and crucial piece within the cosmic jigsaw puzzle. Such days compensate for the vast majority of humdrum ones, and keep the academics treading water for the balance of the year in expectation. The following morning heralded just such a day for Janet Gordon.

  She had awakened to a fresh June morning with a glowing surfeit of energy from the previous day's excitement. For she had pursued her hypothesis (that sounded so much more dignified than a hunch) with logic and reason, and the logical and reasonable universe had yielded to her analytic powers. Then, on her early morning run she had easily overtaken several panting joggers, male and female, and effortlessly ran an extra mile for good measure. She had received the approbation (so richly deserved) from Kay and Dr, Tower, the only people so far privy to her discovery. And now she was sitting with them both a bare twenty-four hours after her original find awaiting confirmation by expert analysts of the contents of the coffee creamer jars taken by Dr. Tower that morning from the Principal's office before the arrival of the secretaries. There was a mixed feeling of tension and anticipated triumph as at the culminating moment in a contest- it was ad-in and Janet was serving for the match, And then the telephone exploded into sound, sending the day into shards of confusion and disarray.

  Dr. Tower's expression of consternation was the first indicator that all was not well. He cross-examined the caller repeatedly and then turned to the two women with a grimace.

  "Both jars of creamer and both jars of sugar and instant coffee free of any measurable contaminants!"

  Janet was too bewildered to respond at once. There was a feeling of unreality about the scene as though a crack had opened in her universe of logic, and supernatural contrivances had taken over from the force of reason. Kay slowly shook her head and turned to Janet.

  "You don't suppose that you and your chemist friend made some mistake? Maybe your test isn't as reliable as the experts' analysis."

  "If you mean we were carried away by wishful thinking into producing the desired result, definitely not!" Janet flashed back.

  "I only wish I had removed the entire jar last night or preserved some of the sample I took out to recheck our findings," she moaned.

  "If we assume your chemistry was correct," Dr. Tower interjected, "then your sample was not representative of the contents of the jar. What's the alternative?"

  "Someone has switched the jars." Janet sat miserably looking at her hands.

  "Look, don't blame yourself. I 'm as much at fault.'' In retrospect I should have acted immediately when you called last night, but I wanted a reasonable pretext to have the janitor let me in this morning without raising the alarm prematurely."

  "In fact it could have happen
ed any time from yesterday afternoon on," added Kay. "Who would have had access to the office?"

  "I don't know everyone that could be involved," said Janet, "but the outer office seems pretty accessible in office hours. It serves as anteroom to the Regents' Office as well as the Principal's Office. There are secretaries from all over campus in and out of there, plus faculty and others." She thought of Jerry Pinkney and the loads of boxes waiting to be removed from the inner office.

  "Somehow, whoever was involved had an inkling of what you might be up to and removed the evidence. There must have been some clues that gave it away. The thing I can't figure," said Dr. Tower thoughtfully, "is why he waited until then. Surely, he would have felt compelled to act before now in getting rid of something that was potentially so incriminating."

  "Maybe not," answered Janet. "You see he had this fairly carefully figured out, and any deliberate attempt to cover it up might have been more dangerous for him. The one jar of creamer containing the Antabuse was in the Principal's inner office without doubt, and only Dr. Pinkney used that one in his instant coffee. No-one else would have had occasion to use it, until yesterday when they started to clear out the office. Mischance number one that both secretaries take coffee creamer and happened to move that jar to the outer office for their own use. Mischance number two that the two women joined the secretaries from across the hall and went to the Waterhole for their lunch."

  "Together with liquid refreshments."

  "Apparently there was a bottle of wine which made the rounds. So when the two secretaries became ill with those characteristic symptoms the antabuser could have twigged to it just as I did."

  "Seems to narrow it down to one of their husbands," observed Kay.

  "Whom I so considerately phoned and tipped them off," said Janet bitterly.

  "But it might have been anyone from that office. Any of those people could easily have got hold of a key and returned last night to make the switch. Unless one of them was actually spotted there without a valid explanation we'll never know," concluded Dr. Tower.

  "Which brings me back to your first query," said Janet. "In many ways being seen at the scene would be more incriminating than the discovery of the Antabuse contaminant, which was after all a rather improbable event. The inner office of the Principal is pretty sacrosanct and not many people would force an entry with impunity. On balance the poisoner took some risk in doping the jar in the first place, and he wouldn't want to amplify the risk by acting prematurely to cover his tracks. He may have been just waiting for removal of all the articles from the inner office to make the switch with less chance of getting caught at it."

  "I hate to play the male chauvinist" interjected Dr. Tower, "but there you go again referring to this nasty character as he. There are probably as many females around here with real or imagined grievances against the Principal."

  "Well, he, she, or it," replied Kay. "It may be a frosty Friday in July before we put the finger on the true culprit!"

  Quite probably it would now be totally impossible to prove anything, Janet reflected sadly. Her day of triumph had collapsed into an evening of remorse. The advantage lost could never be regained, and the match had switched over to her adversary. Janet had succeeded in snatching defeat from the jaws of victory! If nothing else she realized she had learned something about the pitfalls of hubris; perhaps the next time she would be less prone to self-pride and surer of nailing down the prize before indulging in seIf-congratulations.