The Lost Apothecary — Chapter 28

28

Caroline

Present day, Wednesday

As the officer unlatched the handcuffs from his belt, a cell phone rang from somewhere in the small room. I remained frozen, waiting for one of the officers to answer it, then the hazy disorientation cleared from my brain; the phone ringing was mine.

“It might be about James,” I said, lunging for my purse, not caring if the officers tried to slap the cuffs on me before I could answer it. “Please, let me take it.” I put the phone to my ear, bracing for the worst. “Hello?”

On the other end of the line was a cheery, if not slightly concerned, voice.

“Caroline, hey, it’s Gaynor. I’m just calling to check on things. Is your husband doing okay?”

God, what a dear she was. If only the timing wasn’t so terrible. The lead officer watched me closely, bouncing his foot lightly on his knee. “Hi, Gaynor,” I replied, my voice stiff. “Things are okay. I have—” I paused, aware that my every word was being closely monitored, maybe even recorded. “I’m dealing with a situation right now, but I promise I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”

I gazed at the nearest officer, the one with handcuffs out and ready. My eyes fell on his badge affixed to his left hip: a sign of his position, his authority. Suddenly, like a rush of fresh air in the room, it dawned on me that Gaynor’s position at the library might work in my favor.

“Actually, Gaynor…” I pushed the phone harder to my ear “…perhaps you

could help me with something.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “Anything.”

“I’m at St. Bartholomew’s,” I told her, drawing an odd look from the

officers.

“The hospital? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m on the third floor, near the critical care unit. Could you possibly make your way over here? It’s quite a long story, but I’ll

explain when I can.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll head that way in a few.”

My shoulders sagged with relief. “The woman on the phone is a colleague and friend,” I told the officers after I’d hung up the phone. “She works at the British Library, and she’s been helping with my research.

Whether you decide to arrest me or not, I hope you’ll hear what she has to say first.”

The men glanced at each other, and the one across from me made another note in his book. After a few minutes, he checked his wristwatch and drummed three fingers on the table.

It was a last-ditch effort. Gaynor had no knowledge that I’d broken into the apothecary’s shop or snapped pictures of the register, and at no point in our research together did we take notes on things like opium, tobacco or arsenic. I prayed the officers wouldn’t show her the notebook, but I had to accept the risk. I’d rather come clean with Gaynor than get arrested for something I didn’t do.

Eventually, one of the officers found Gaynor in the waiting area; she stepped into the small room with a terrified look on her face, probably thinking the presence of officers signified that something tragic had happened to James. I hadn’t meant to cause her such alarm, but it would be impossible now to share any private words with her.

“Hi,” she said upon seeing me. “What’s going on? Are you all right? Is your husband okay?”

“Why don’t you have a seat with us,” the lead officer stated.

He motioned to an extra chair, and Gaynor lowered herself into it, clutching her purse closely to her side. Her eyes fell on my notebook, but it was far enough across the table that I thought it unlikely she could read anything on its pages.

“We were about to bring Ms. Parcewell to the station for further questioning,” the officer explained, “regarding a harmful substance her husband ingested earlier today, and some unusual notes we found in her notebook, possibly related to the incident.”

I shook my head, my courage strengthened now that Gaynor sat close to me. “No, not related, as I said.”

Gaynor moved her hand toward me, as though reaching for my own— whether to comfort herself or me, I wasn’t sure.

The officer leaned toward Gaynor, his hot, tobacco-tainted breath wafting across the table. “Ms. Parcewell said you may be able to explain some things for us.” At this, Gaynor’s demeanor changed in an instant; whereas a moment ago, she seemed to pity me, now her shoulders stiffened defensively. “We understand you work at the British Library?”

Gaynor’s eyes darted at me. “What does this have to do with my job?”

At once, remorse wrapped around my throat. I’d asked Gaynor to come to the hospital because I needed help—I needed saving. Now I realized the foolishness in it; I’d dragged someone else into my mess. God forbid Gaynor thought I tricked her into this. She hadn’t done a single thing wrong, and yet now I’d maneuvered her into sitting next to me as I was questioned by two police officers.

I took a deep breath. “They don’t believe I’ve been researching the apothecary. That’s why I told them you worked at the library.” I then faced the lead officer. “I’ve been to the library twice. I’ve looked through maps, I looked online…” I purposely said I, not we, because I meant to remove Gaynor from this—to place as much distance between her and my mess as I possibly could.

I exhaled as a clock on the wall ticked forward, another minute passed.

Another minute stuck here, trying to explain myself, while James fought for his life. “These officers,” I said to Gaynor, “seem to think I’m somehow involved in my husband’s illness. He came down with a cold today, and I suggested he use a bit of eucalyptus oil. He was supposed to rub it into his chest, his skin, but he actually ingested it. Unfortunately, it’s highly toxic.” I eyed my notebook warily, wishing it would dissolve into thin air—wishing, in many ways, I hadn’t found the vial or learned about the apothecary at all.

I placed my hands on the table in front of me, ready to ask Gaynor what I needed of her. “The medics found my research notes and called the police.

Can you please assure these men that you do work at the library, and that I’ve been twice to research the apothecary? That this isn’t just some lie I’ve made up on the spot?”

For a moment, Gaynor’s reaction put me at ease. I watched it unfold, her slow understanding of the coincidence, the terrible timing of it all. The fluorescent light above us continued to flicker as we all waited for Gaynor to speak. Perhaps she would come to my defense without asking anything about the research notes—without reading the notebook at all. Then, I wouldn’t have to explain the omission to her.

Gaynor took a breath to speak, but before she could say anything, the officer across from us placed his hand on my notebook and—to my horror —spun it around to face her.

I wanted to lunge across the table, throw the notebook aside and strangle him. He knew Gaynor had nearly come to my defense; he could see it as well as I could, and he’d saved his final trick for the eleventh hour.

There was nothing to do now but accept the inevitable. I watched carefully as Gaynor’s eyes flicked left and right on the page. This was it: the truth, at last, coming to light. The names of obscure poisons, copied from the apothecary’s register; random dates and names scribbled in the margins of the page, none of which Gaynor and I had researched together at the library; and, of course, the most incriminating line of all: Quantities of non-poisons needed to kill.

This was, I knew, the beginning of the end for our friendship. Gaynor would deny helping me with this level of research; any sane person would.

Her confusion would only throw further doubt on my story in the eyes of the police, and that would be the end of it for me. I sat motionless, awaiting the cold, hard metal that would soon snap around my wrists.

Gaynor took a long, shaky breath and gazed at me, as though she meant to communicate something with just her eyes. But my own were welling quickly with tears, and my remorse was such that I almost wanted to be taken away in handcuffs. I wanted out of this goddamned room, away from the disappointed faces of these officers and my new friend.

Gaynor reached into her bag. “Yes, I can validate all of this research.”

She pulled out her wallet, then withdrew a card. Handing it to one of the officers, she said, “Here’s my employee card. I can confirm that Caroline’s been to the library twice in recent days to research the apothecary, and I can request the camera footage if it’s needed for your investigation.”

I could hardly believe it. Gaynor had come to my defense, even after surely understanding there was something I hadn’t yet told her. I gaped at her, my body going limp in the chair. But I couldn’t offer an explanation yet, or even say thank you. That, by itself, would seem suspicious.

The officer at the table ran his thumb over Gaynor’s employee card as though checking the expiration and validity of it. Satisfied, he tossed it onto the table, where it slid several inches. Something buzzed in his pocket, and he withdrew a cell phone.

“Yes?” he said tersely into the device. I could hear a woman’s faint voice on the other end of the line, and the officer’s face hardened. I braced myself for news as he hung up the phone. “Mr. Parcewell would like to see you,” he said, standing from the chair. “We’ll show you to his room.”

“H-he’s okay then?” I stammered.

Gaynor reached again for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I wouldn’t say that quite yet,” the officer replied, “but he’s fully conscious, at least.”

With Gaynor remaining in the room behind us, the officers ushered me out, one with his hand near my lower back. I stiffened, saying, “I can find James’s room myself, thanks.”

He smirked. “Not a chance. We’re not quite finished yet.”

I paused. This did nothing to ease my worry about an impending arrest.

What had the nurse told the officer on the phone? Whatever it was, he felt he needed to accompany me.

As we made our way down the hospital corridor, silent other than the heavy stomping of the officers’ boots, my spirits remained low. James’s room was just ahead, and it was with a sense of dread that I awaited what he meant to say to me—and the officers flanking my sides.