Page 7 of The Botanist's Assistant
A Sudden Realization
Atropa belladonna. The words ringin Margaret’s head.
Why hadn’t she seen it before? Why had it only come this morning when her alarm went off at five fifteen? (Apparently, she had slept for a few hours after all.)
It was in those nine or ten seconds right after she’d touched the alarm into silence and put her bare feet to the floor that the image had come again of Dr. Deaver: his jaw slack, his hair matted with blood, his open eyes so soulful and dark they looked depthless.
She stood quickly.
More images came to her then: the overturned photo, Dr. Deaver’s precious jacket on the floor, the top three buttons of Professor Deaver’s shirt undone, the empty scotch bottle in the trash and the missing cocktail glass. The Diet Coke container. Dr. Deaver never drank Diet Coke.
What if? What if? The question echoed in her mind, andshe rushed through her routine, practically running to her truck and almost leaving her thermos and lunch behind.
Now she is in the lab on her phone listening to the campus police department’s hold music, a horrible mixture of clapping, clanking and synthesizer moans. Even if you hadn’t committed a crime, it made you want to.
It was Dr. Deaver’s eyes that had set off Margaret’s suspicion. Well, that and, perhaps, Joe the custodian’s mention of the casualties of war.
Atropa belladonna, or deadly nightshade: a toxic perennial herb with dark-green leaves and purple-black berries whose signature trait in those whom it has poisoned is the dilation of the victim’s pupils.
You couldn’t work in a botany lab without knowing aboutAtropa belladonna. Named by the ancient Greeks after one of the three Fates—Clotho, who spun the thread of life, Lachesis, who measured it, and Atropos, who cut it—its noxious properties caused it to be viewed with both fear and reverence.
Death byAtropa belladonnawas horrible. Those who ingested the poison suffered from a rise in body temperature, flushing of the skin, dry mouth, hallucinations, rapid heartbeat and the telltale dilation of the pupils.
“Hot as a hare, blind as a bat, dry as a bone, red as a beet and mad as a hatter,” was the adage used to diagnose belladonna poisoning.
What was even more alarming was that, while difficult to obtain in the modern world, there was a bottle of the purifiedchemical, atropine, which is isolated from theAtropa belladonnaplant, in a locked cabinet in the lab.
Margaret grips the phone as the atrocious music finally stops and a curt voice announces, “Bianchi.”
Who is so busy they can’t say their full name and their title when they answer the phone?
“Yes, this is Margaret Finch, research assistant II for Dr. Jonathan Deaver.” She will show this fellow how to identify yourself properly. “And I want to report a possibly important development in the death of Professor Deaver yesterday, March 13.”
Margaret works to sound measured and professional even as her mind races.
“OK. Sure.” Officer Bianchi sounds as if he’s already figuring out a way to end the call.
Margaret launches into a recitation of the effects ofAtropa belladonnapoisoning and what she observed in the room, including Dr. Deaver’s dilated pupils, the partially unbuttoned shirt and open windows, which would indicate overheating, along with the Diet Coke bottle and missing cocktail glass, which suggested someone else had been in the room. She can’t help herself. The words race out of her mouth.
“Dilated pupils, you say?” Bianchi asks.
“Yes. It’s a hallmark of the plant’s effects. Venetian courtesans in the 1500s reportedly putAtropa belladonnadrops in their eyes to dilate their pupils and achieve the attractive doe-like appearance their benefactors craved. Of course, the side effect was that their vision became so blurry they could only identify their companions by voice.”
Margaret knows she should stop but she can’t.
“Witches in the late Middle Ages too. It was said theywould make an ointment with belladonna and other plants, then rub it into their skin to achieve hallucinations and sensations of flying. Which would explain the disheveled state of Dr. Deaver’s desk. Hallucinations are common in belladonna poisonings. Also overheating, as I mentioned before.”
“Well,” Officer Bianchi says.
“Are you writing this down?”
“Of course,” he says but in a way that makes Margaret certain he is not.
“Have you ordered a toxicology screen? That would be a way to confirm my hypothesis.”
There is a long pause from the other end of the line.
“I appreciate the input, Ms. Finch, but how about we let the coroner handle those details? The autopsy is scheduled for tomorrow and if anything turns up suspicious, other than Professor Deaver’s bad heart, we’ll be sure to check back with you.”
