a medicine from that woman, Marta Duval. Catalina asked me for it, she said it would help her sleep. But when she drank it she had a seizure. I went to see Marta this morning, but she wasn’t there. I wanted to ask if you’ve heard of something like that happening around town before, if her medications have made anyone ill like that.”
“Marta goes to Pachuca to see her daughter, or she goes on herb collection trips, which is probably why you didn’t find her. But as to this happening before, I haven’t heard of such a thing. Dr. Corona would have mentioned it, I’m sure. Did Arthur Cummins examine your cousin?”
“He said an opium tincture caused the seizure.”
Dr. Camarillo grabbed a pen and twirled it between his fingers. “You know, opium was used to treat epilepsy not so long ago. There’s always the possibility of allergic reactions with any medicine, but Marta is very careful with this sort of stuff.”
“Dr. Cummins called her a quack.”
He shook his head and set the pen back on the desk. “She’s no quack. Many people go to Marta for remedies, and she helps them well enough. If I thought she was endangering the health of the townsfolk I wouldn’t allow it.”
“But what if Catalina took too much of the tincture?”
“An overdose? Yes, of course an overdose would be quite awful. She might lose consciousness, she might vomit, but the thing is, Marta wouldn’t be able to procure an opium tincture.”
“What do you mean?”
Dr. Camarillo laced his hands together, his elbows resting on the desk. “It’s not the kind of medical care she provides. An opium tincture is a remedy you could find at a drugstore. Marta makes remedies using local herbs and plants. There are no poppies here with which to make a tincture.”
“Then you’re saying it must have been something else that caused her to be sick?”
“I can’t say with certainty.”
She frowned, unable to make heads or tails of this information. She’d gone looking for an easy answer, but there was none. Nothing seemed to be easy here.
“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help. Maybe I can look at your rash before you leave? Have you changed the bandage?” Dr. Camarillo asked.
“I haven’t. It has completely slipped my mind.”
She hadn’t even opened the little jar with the zinc paste. Julio took off the bandage, and Noemí expected to see the same raw, red skin. Perhaps it would look even worse than the last time. Instead, her wrist was completely healed. There was not a single bump blemishing her skin. It seemed to startle the doctor.
“Well, this is quite the surprise. Why, it’s vanished,” Dr. Camarillo said. “I don’t think I’ve seen such a thing before. Usually it takes seven or ten days, sometimes weeks, for the skin to clear. It’s barely been two days.”
“I must be lucky,” she ventured.
“Extremely,” he said. “What a thing. Do you need anything else? If not, I can tell Marta you were looking for her.”
She thought about her odd dream and the second sleepwalking episode. Yet she didn’t feel the doctor would be able to assist her with that either. It was as he’d said: he wasn’t very useful at all. She was beginning to think Virgil had been right when he told her Camarillo was too young and inexperienced. Or maybe she was being grumpy. She was most definitely tired. The anxiety of the previous day hit her suddenly.
“That would be an utter kindness,” she said.
* * *
—
Noemí had expected to return to her room without anyone noticing, but of course that was too much to ask. Not even an hour after Francis and Noemí had parked the car, Florence came looking for her. She had Noemí’s lunch tray with her, which she deposited on the table. She didn’t say anything unpleasant, but her face was fiercely sour. It was the face of a warden ready to squelch a riot.
“Virgil would like to speak with you,” she said. “I assume you can eat and be presentable in an hour?”
“Of course,” Noemí replied.
“Good. I’ll come to fetch you.”
She did indeed return in exactly one hour and proceeded to guide Noemí to Virgil’s room. When they stopped in front of his door, Florence knocked once, her knuckles so soft upon the wooden surface that Noemí thought he’d never hear them, but he spoke, loud and clear.
“Enter.”
Florence turned the doorknob and held the door open for Noemí. Once the young woman stepped inside, Florence carefully