by Gerald Elias
When they got back to the inn, Jacobus phoned Lilburn’s room. There being no answer, he went to the desk to leave a message.
‘Mr Lilburn checked out this morning,’ the desk clerk informed him.
Jacobus had Yumi call him on her cellphone.
‘Lilburn,’ Jacobus said. ‘I want you to find out if anything untoward went on with Schlossberg while he was a student at NYU. I also want you to find out if he and Lisette Broder played together when she was there, and if so, what was the extent of their relationship.’
‘And by “untoward” you mean …?’
‘As in raping women.’
‘Dear me!’
‘Might make a nice footnote in your retrospective.’
‘I might be able to answer the second part of your request,’ Lilburn said. ‘I’ve got one of his biographies, Resonance, on my desk. But as for the first, I wouldn’t know where to begin.’
‘In that case, just the second for now. I’ve been trying to get a hold of Broder but she flits around here like a poltergeist. I’m hoping she can shed some light on his extracurricular activities.’
‘All right. I’ve got to finish up this piece. It’s turning out to be far more intriguing than I at first envisioned. I’ll get back to you tonight.’
Jacobus’s next call was to Chase Anderson.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Jacobus,’ Anderson said. ‘I haven’t figured out how to crack that firewall and I’ve got to go visit my mother in Plattsburgh this weekend.’
‘When do you get back?’
‘Sunday night.’
‘Will you be able to find out if Lucien Knotts shows up to class on Monday?’
‘Absolutely! I even found his photo ID online so I know what he looks like.’
‘OK. Say hi to Mom for me.’
The last call was to Sybil Baker-Hulme. In the goriest detail his lurid imagination could conjure, Jacobus painstakingly described, step-by-step, how gruesome the autopsy was going to be. As soon as he was convinced she would have nightmares for the rest of her life, he told her that for legal purposes she needed to be present.
‘I couldn’t face that!’ she cried. ‘It’s too, too horrific.’
Jacobus mentioned that the only way of getting out of it was by appointing a personal representative. Maybe she knew someone who had the stomach for it. Baker-Hulme asked if he would consent to be her appointee.
‘After all, it might be one instance in which being blind is a distinct advantage,’ she said.
Jacobus demurred. After all, he hardly knew the man. When she almost begged him, he grudgingly acquiesced. ‘If it will spare you the discomfort,’ he said.
‘You’re such a considerate dear,’ she said. ‘Just the thought of what they’ll have to do makes me shudder. I’m going to Brooklyn, anyway – not that I want to – to break the news to Aaron’s parents in person. I dread that almost as much as the thought of Aaron’s autopsy.’
‘How long will you be there?’ Jacobus asked.
‘Not a moment more than necessary!’
‘Good.’
When Jacobus had learned of the growth on his lung, thoughts of mortality drove him to overindulge in his passion for cholesterol. But now, he had had enough of Chops and Van Winkle’s, and the thought of more encounters with the faculty at the conservatory café took away whatever appetite remained. So instead of lunch, he had Yumi take him to the hospital, where he exchanged his wheelchair for a fresh, tightly wrapped ankle bandage. The nurse thanked him for being the ideal patient.
‘Come back soon,’ she said as he departed. Yumi handed Jacobus his cane and helped him hobble around the hospital courtyard.
‘Free at last! Free at last!’ he said, gleefully tapping his cane on the sidewalk and poking it into beds of pansies. He even gave Yumi a peck on her cheek.
‘I’m a new man!’
‘Don’t get carried away,’ Yumi said.
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re about to walk into a statue of Dolly Cooney.’
Yumi drove Jacobus back to the inn, where he fought unsuccessfully against taking a nap. Was his energy dissipating? He had never thought about it. Maybe he’d been like this for years. Maybe it was his imagination. But even if it was for real, everyone runs out of steam when they get old. It was just natural. Wasn’t it? Or was it something else. Something ‘not insignificant.’ Jacobus had a difficult time falling asleep.
He was awakened by a knock on the door, which by it’s volume and rhythmic pattern he knew was Yumi’s.
‘Yeah. Come in.’
‘Getting rid of that wheelchair and getting some sleep must have done you wonders. You look ten years younger,’ Yumi said.
Was she lying? Just trying to make him feel better?
‘Younger than what?’ he asked. ‘That’s the question. What’s up?’
‘I spoke to Mia,’ she said. ‘She said that Hedge made her sign a nondisclosure statement saying she wouldn’t go to law enforcement or talk about her complaint. If she signed, she’d continue to receive her scholarship plus be awarded a teaching assistanceship, which would provide her an additional stipend; but if she didn’t sign, or signed and subsequently broke the agreement, she’d forfeit those benefits and be subject to being sued for defamation of both Schlossberg and the conservatory. The implicit threat was that it would ruin any future she had in music.’
‘So she was paid off to keep her mouth shut.’
‘It seems so. And she begged me to please not tell anyone but you.’
‘Sometimes I wonder how many lambs we’ve led to slaughter in the name of music,’ Jacobus said.
Yumi did not offer an answer.
Schneidermann called at four thirty.
‘Dr Dahl wants to see us,’ he said.
‘I thought you said the results would take ten years,’ Jacobus replied.
‘That’s standard. I guess this situation is not.’
‘Don’t you have to go to synagogue soon?’
‘It’s spring break.’
Jacobus and Yumi met Schneidermann, who was waiting for them, at the conference room of the medical examiner’s offices adjacent to the autopsy lab. Quiet, soothing music played over a PA. Jacobus traced his fingertips around the edge of the table at which they were seated. It was round. They chatted while they waited for Dahl. The sound was non-reverberant, like in a recording studio. ‘Dead,’ was the ironic adjective that entered into Jacobus’s mind. A soundproofed room. He asked Yumi for more details. ‘Not much to see,’ she said, and described a room, window shades closed, that was spare but for two pots of artificial ficus trees and a few boxes of tissues on the table.
The connecting door from Dr Dahl’s office opened and the doctor greeted them.
‘Thank you for coming,’ he said. He presented a form for Jacobus to sign that appointed him Sybil’s official representative. Yumi helped him sign it.
‘So this is where you meet with the families and break the bad news in a good way?’ Jacobus asked.
‘Yes, that’s right. But I can’t tell if the news I have for you is good or bad.’
‘According to Professor Schneidermann, there shouldn’t have been any news for a fortnight.’
‘Ninety-nine percent of the time that would have been true, but indications were so clear to me that I can all but guarantee what the lab technicians are going to conclude. Frankly, I’m perplexed why the attending physician at the hospital didn’t see the signs, but we can get to that later. I gather from Professor Schneidermann that you’re already acquainted with the death certificate.’
‘Yes.’
‘Medically, the certificate is correct. Schlossberg did indeed die of renal and hepatic failure, from complications due to diabetes compounded by cirrhosis of the liver and advanced kidney disease.’
‘So there’s no case, then,’ Jacobus said.
‘I’m not sure what you mean by “case,”’ Dahl continued, ‘but you didn’t hear what I said.’
‘Y
ou said the certificate was correct.’
‘Let me try to help,’ Schneidermann intervened. ‘Dr Dahl said medically correct. Ethically correct, maybe we’re not so sure. What he’s saying is that the certificate was the truth, but it was not the whole truth. The whole truth, which will be in the autopsy report, is that Aaron Schlossberg died from eating a poisoned mushroom.’
‘Wait a minute! A lot of people ate poisoned mushrooms at that party,’ Jacobus objected. ‘And except for extreme cases of the squirts, no one was worse for the wear.’
‘Yes, I heard about that unfortunate party,’ Dahl said. ‘It was in the local news. But I’ve concluded from the symptoms and the follow-up lab tests that the mushrooms ingested by the guests were Omphalotus olearius. The common name is jack-o’-lanterns, and they’re easily mistaken for chanterelles. They contain the toxin muscarine, which tends to cause acute gastroenteritis soon after ingestion but without further toxicity. The common symptoms present as nausea, vomiting, and abdominal cramping as well as diarrhea. What you referred to as “the squirts.” Are you following me so far?’
Jacobus grunted assent. Sybil had already told him that much.
‘Good. Unlike his colleagues, however, Professor Schlossberg also ingested Gyromitra esculenta, what is sometimes referred to as brain mushroom, because to some people the convolutions on the mushroom’s cap resemble a brain. They’re also called false morels, because they closely resemble real morels – I personally think that’s a more accurate name. And because morels are so sought after it’s not beyond imagination that someone might convince himself that a false one was the real thing.’
‘And false morels are worse than jack-o’-lanterns?’ Jacobus asked.
‘Far worse. They can be fatal. Not always. But at best they are quite dangerous. In fact, it wasn’t until 1968 when we were really able to identify the chemical components of gyromitrin, which is the toxin in the mushroom. Its chemical name is acetaldehyde N-methyl-N-formylhydrazone—’
‘Perhaps for Mr Jacobus that information is not essential,’ Schneidermann said.
‘Yes, cut to the chase,’ Jacobus said. ‘Yumi parked her car in a formylhydrazone and I don’t want her to get a ticket.’
‘Very well. Symptoms of Gyromitra poisoning occur within six to twelve hours of consumption, although cases of more severe poisoning may present sooner – sometimes only a couple hours after ingestion. Initially, the symptoms are similar to the ingestion of jack-o’-lanterns: primarily gastrointestinal, with sudden onset of nausea, vomiting, and watery diarrhea, which may be bloodstained. Dehydration may develop if the vomiting or diarrhea is severe. But then, dizziness, lethargy, vertigo, tremor, ataxia, nystagmus, and headaches develop soon after.’
‘What are ataxia and … the other thing?’ Yumi asked.
‘Ataxia is gait abnormality,’ Schneidermann explained. ‘Trouble walking. Nystagmus are involuntary eye movements. It’s sometimes called “dancing eye.”’
‘Yes,’ Dahl continued. ‘May I suggest that I finish my summary, and then you can ask all the questions you want? Otherwise, this might take a long time.’
‘Summarize away,’ Jacobus said.
‘Thank you. Fever is a common and distinctive feature of Gyromitra poisoning which, surprisingly, does not develop after poisoning by other types of mushrooms. In most cases of Gyromitra poisoning, symptoms do not progress any further, and patients recover after two to six days of illness.’
‘Sorry to barge in again, Dahl,’ Jacobus said, ‘but because of Schlossberg’s diabetes, they did progress. Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Precisely. At least that is what I believe. In his case there was a less common phase of significant toxicity, including kidney and liver damage. This was evident upon my examination of Schlossberg’s internal organs. As such, symptoms would have included neurological dysfunction, including seizures and coma, which would have developed between one and three days. The patient developed jaundice and the liver and spleen were enlarged. The lab will determine whether hyperglycemia – rising blood sugar levels – was followed by hypoglycemia – falling blood sugar levels. But liver toxicity was clear.’
Yumi’s phone rang. She turned it off.
‘Sorry.’
‘Additionally,’ Dahl continued, ‘intravascular hemolysis caused destruction of red blood cells, resulting in increased free hemoglobin and hemoglobinuria, which led to renal toxicity and renal failure. Methemoglobinemia also occurred.’
Schneidermann interjected, ‘This is where higher than normal levels of methemoglobin, which is a form of hemoglobin that cannot carry oxygen, are found in the blood. It causes the patient to become short of breath and cyanotic.’
‘How do you know Schlossberg had shortness of breath?’ Jacobus asked. ‘He was already dead.’
‘That may be presumed from his cyanotic state,’ Dahl answered, ‘meaning his skin and mucus membranes were blue and purple, which wouldn’t have been the case otherwise. Frankly, I’m surprised that didn’t immediately send up a red flag to the attending physician.’
Jacobus recalled Chase Anderson’s initial comments on Schlossberg’s condition, that none of the other deceased diabetes patients had looked anything like Schlossberg. He had been right.
‘Perhaps because his physician was being sensitive of Schlossberg’s family’s religious needs to bury him quickly,’ Schneidermann said. ‘Traditionally a Jewish burial takes place within twenty-four hours of death. Torah says, “You shall bury him the same day. His body should not remain all night.” These days, that practice is no longer common except in Orthodox communities. Still, the funeral should take place as soon as possible following the death and never take place on Shabbos or holidays. So the fact that he had already been dead for two or three days …’
‘This may be a stupid question,’ Yumi said, ‘but how badly did he suffer? At the end?’
‘The terminal neurological phase would have concluded with delirium, muscle seizures and fasciculation – twitching – and mydriasis – pupil dilation – progressing to coma, circulatory collapse, and respiratory arrest. Death, when it occurs from ingestion of the toxin, usually takes from five to seven days after consumption. Because of Schlossberg’s prior condition, I would say it happened much sooner. Not that that’s much comfort. I think it’s important to remember that death from ingestion of Gyromitra esculenta is uncommon, but with someone who had advanced diabetes, like Schlossberg …’
Jacobus finished Dahl’s thought.
‘It was a death sentence?’
‘Unquestionably.’
‘So you’re saying someone killed Schlossberg with a poison mushroom?’
‘Not in the least, Mr Jacobus! Not in the least!’
‘Then what exactly are you saying?’
‘Only that the manner of death on the death certificate probably should have indicated as “accident” instead of “natural.” “Suicide” is possible but highly unlikely. It’s difficult to imagine someone wanting to kill himself in such a manner, but there is neither reason nor cause to presume ill-intent.’
‘Wouldn’t you say, Fred,’ Schneidermann asked, ‘that the certificate should have indicated another option?’
‘Not “homicide,”’ Dahl said. ‘There’s no clinical basis for that.’
‘No, not “homicide,”’ Schneidermann said. ‘But certainly “pending investigation” should be considered. Don’t you think?’
‘No. You were right the first time, Doc,’ Jacobus interrupted. ‘Either natural or accidental.’
‘Why do you say that, Jake?’ Yumi asked. She sounded perplexed.
‘Don’t want the good doctor to go out on a limb,’ Jacobus said. ‘Right, doc?’
‘Well …’
‘Look,’ Jacobus explained. ‘Schlossberg’s family’s going to be bent out of shape when they find out he’s been dug up and Dahl made chopped liver out of him. His widow has gone through plenty. They want this show to be over. They’ve been grieving,
they need to get on with their lives, let alone having to deal with things like life insurance and all that bullshit. We now know how he died. An ill-fated fete, a lot of mistaken mushrooms passed around, and Schlossberg happened to be the unlucky schmuck to pick the blue ribbon. Case closed.’
‘Mr Jacobus makes a valid point,’ Schneidermann said.
‘I’ll think about it,’ Dahl added. ‘But accidental sounds right.’
‘Who’s going to notify Sybil Baker-Hulme?’ Jacobus asked.
‘I will,’ Dahl said. ‘Any more questions?’
There were none.
Yumi drove Jacobus back to the inn.
‘Did you hear those symptoms?’ Jacobus asked. ‘Twitching, seizures, pupil dilation, dizziness. There’s no way Schlossberg could have gotten from his house to the practice room. He couldn’t even have gotten out his front door.’
‘So then why didn’t you want Dr Dahl to change his conclusion to “pending investigation”?’ she asked.
‘Because if he’d done that, the police would have to take over the case.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
Jacobus pondered his response.
‘Audrey,’ he said.
‘What about her?’ Yumi asked.
Jacobus waited for it to sink in.
‘You think she killed Aaron Schlossberg!’ she said.
Jacobus shrugged. ‘Think about this. What if those two people I heard in the woods were her and her boyfriend, Lucien?’
‘How would you know?’
‘If we ever find him, if I hear his voice.’
‘Hold on a sec,’ she said. ‘My phone’s ringing.’
‘I don’t hear anything.’
‘It’s in my back pocket. It’s on vibrate.’
The only phone Jacobus had ever owned was a rotary dial model. It would not have fit in his back pocket.
‘I can only imagine how it feels,’ he said.
‘Hello,’ Yumi said into the phone. ‘Hold on.’
She gave the phone to Jacobus.
‘It’s Chase.’
‘What’s up?’ Jacobus said. ‘I thought you were going to visit Mom in Plattsburgh.’
‘I had an idea.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘That was really exciting at Van Winkle’s, hacking into the conservatory computers. So I got curious and went into the 4C Library files and found out what books Lucien Knotts checked out recently. Guess what?’