Fed Up - By Jessica Conant-Park & Susan Conant Page 0,35
lucid. And of course, I didn’t know her well. Maybe she was making a joke.” There. That put a positive spin on it!
“Francie had many . . . many good qualities. But a sense of humor really wasn’t one of them.” Leo paused. “Maybe she was asking who poisoned her? Or asking who you were? Or who Death was?”
“Well, if Billy the Kid was serious, I guess that she might’ve been, too. But, yes, she certainly might have been asking who poisoned her.” I took the opportunity to gather information. “Leo, do you know what the poison was?”
“I’m told that it was something called digitalis. That’s what the autopsy showed.”
I talked with Leo for a few more minutes but managed to hang up before I had to lie about anything else. Thank God he hadn’t asked me whether Francie had suffered. I wouldn’t have been able to tell him the truth about that, either: that she had indeed suffered an excruciating, humiliating death, a death that was apparently the result of digitalis poisoning.
What was digitalis, anyway? I had a half hour before I had to go to my parents’ house to meet with them and with Emilio. I Googled digitalis and quickly scanned Web pages for information. According to the first few pages I read, digitalis was a drug used mainly to treat congestive heart failure and some arrhythmias. Could someone with access to the food have added digitalis to one of the ingredients or dishes? Did anyone with access to the food have a heart problem? Everyone was too young for heart failure, I thought, and I’d noticed no one who seemed less than healthy. An arrhythmia? That condition might not be obvious. But what did I know? I was in social work school rather than medical school. I did know that Owen and his brothers had grandparents who lived near Boston. Maybe one of them was taking digitalis? It would’ve been just like Willie or Evan to swipe some of a grandparent’s medication to use in playing a practical joke.
I called Adrianna under the pretense of asking about Saturday’s wedding shower and baby shower and also about the wedding itself.
“I think we’re in good shape for the wedding,” she said. “Josh is doing the food, we have our dresses, the music will play over the speakers, and we’ve solicited various people to take pictures for us. No way would I pay some professional photographer five grand for a wedding album. With everything you can do to digital pictures on the computer, I think we’ll end up with great photos. And the shower is all set, too. I told your mom I wanted to keep it pretty simple and low-key. I’ll have enough to worry about with my deranged mother in town. I think the brunch idea was perfect. That way it won’t turn into an all-night event with everyone drunk and dancing on couches.”
“Will Owen’s mother be there?” I asked in my most casual voice.
“Yeah, his mother, grandmother, a few cousins, I think. Grampa will be at the wedding. Why?”
“Just wondering. I know he has a big family.”
“You’re not kidding. Owen’s mother, Eileen, isn’t totally happy about everything, but he thinks she’ll come around. The family as a whole is pretty relaxed, but Eileen is more traditional and still not completely rooting for me. The rest of them are all so excited about the baby that I’m afraid I might not even see my own kid for the first year. They’ve all got plans for holidays and birthdays, and they’re fighting over who gets to take the kid to Disney World first. Nut jobs,” she said, but I could hear the affection in her voice.
“That’s great, though, Ade. Your baby is going to have so many people in his life that love him. Or her. I can’t believe you haven’t found out if it’s a boy or a girl!”
“Yeah, Owen’s losing his mind over that, but I want to be surprised. All I care about is if the baby is healthy.”
“Of course,” I agreed. “You don’t have any reason to worry though, right? Is there, you know, any family history that you need to worry about?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know . . . diabetes, heart disease. Anyone in the family with a condition like that? Anything treated with medication?”
“What? Are you saying my baby is going to be born with a congenital heart defect? What a sick thing to suggest!”