“He’s read all of them?”
“No, I doubt it. He and my grandmother accumulated them over the years. He has a beautiful library in his office. It’s three walls from floor to ceiling of books, many leather-bound and collector’s copies.”
“I wonder if my father knows that. He probably has only a few hundred. So what did you learn? What about its taste and smell?”
“Depends. If it’s mixed in with something, it might not be so easily discovered.”
“So . . . mixed in with something looks more like an attempted murder, doesn’t it? Who would want to murder a kid—and with arsenic?”
“We actually need small amounts of arsenic in our bodies. There are small amounts of it in a
pple juice, for example.”
“I don’t drink that too often.”
“There are small amounts in other fruits and vegetable, grains and fish. We excrete it.”
“Huh?”
“Pay more attention in science.”
“I know what it means. I’m just . . . a little shocked. You think he might have drunk too much apple juice?”
“Very unlikely.”
He thought a moment. “What does all this have to do with that, anyway?” he asked, nodding at the truck.
“My grandfather felt sorry for the boy. He arranged for him to have the best medical treatment, which probably saved his life.”
“Why your grandfather? Where were the kid’s parents?”
“No one knows . . . yet,” I said.
“Huh? What do you mean? It’s been a while. How did he get to the hospital, anyway?”
“Some man dropped him off at the emergency room and ran away before anyone could question him. It was so chaotic there at the time that no one can even give a good description of him.”
“Wow. And your grandfather did all that while . . .” He turned to me. “While your brother was dying?”
I looked away.
“I’m sure he made sure the best was done for him, too?” he added quickly.
“Willie really died in the ambulance,” I said, amazed that I could even say it. “They were trying to revive him.”
“Wow.”
We were both silent.
“I still don’t get it,” he said, nodding at the men now unloading another piece of equipment. “What’s this have to do with arsenic and all that?”
“The boy’s life was saved, but there were some serious injuries, side effects of the poison. He was undernourished as it was, apparently. As a result, he had some neurological problems, and that’s affected his motor skills. What you see there is physical-therapy equipment.”
“Neurological problems? Motor skills? Are you going to be a doctor or something?” He was more surprised than impressed.
“As I said, I read about things.”
“But this physical-therapy stuff is all going into your grandfather’s house, not the hospital. He wants that?”