Read Online From the Corner of His Eye by Dean Koontz - Free Book Online

myself last November."
        "You were poisoned?"
        In that slow, flat delivery with which Junior was becoming increasingly impatient, Detective Vanadium said, "We all were, Doctor. It was another election year, remember? More than once during that campaign, I could've chugged ipecac. What else would work if I wanted to have a good vomit?"
        "Well… apomorphine hydrochloride."
        "Harder to get than ipecac."
        "Yes. Sodium chloride will work, too. Common salt. Mix enough of it with water, and it's generally effective."
        "Harder to detect than ipecac or apomorphine hydrochloride."
        "Detect?" Parkhurst asked.
        "In the spew."
        "In the vomitus, you mean?"
        "Sorry. I forgot we're in polite company. Yes, I mean in the vomitus.
        "Well, the lab could detect abnormally high salt levels, but that wouldn't matter in court. He could say he ate a lot of salty foods."
        "Salt water would be too cumbersome anyway. He'd have to drink a lot of it shortly before he heaved, but he was surrounded by cops with good reason to keep an eye on him. Does ipecac come in capsule form?"
        "I suppose anyone could fill some empty gelatin capsules with the syrup," said Parkhurst. "But-" "Roll your own, so to speak. Then he could palm a few of them, swallow 'em without water, and the reaction would be delayed maybe long enough, until the capsules dissolved in his stomach."
        The affable physician sounded as though he was at last beginning to find the detective's unlikely theory and persistent questioning to be tedious. "I seriously doubt that a dose of ipecac would produce such a violent response as in this case-not pharyngeal hemorrhage, for God's sake. Ipecac is a safe product."
        "If he took triple or quadruple the usual dose-"
        "Wouldn't matter," Parkhurst insisted. "A lot has pretty much the same effect as a little. You can't overdose, because what it does is make you throw up, and when you throw up, you purge yourself of the ipecac along with everything else."
        "Then, whether a little or a lot, it'll be in his spew. Excuse me, his vomitus."
        "If you're expecting the hospital to provide a sample of the ejecta, I'm afraid-"
        "Ejecta?"
        "The vomitus."
        Vanadium said, "I'm an easily confused layman, Doctor. If we can't stick to one word for it, I'm just going to go back to spew."
        "The paramedics will have disposed of the contents of the emesis basin if they used one. And if there were soiled towels or sheeting, they might already have been laundered."
        "That's all right," Vanadium said. "I bagged some at the scene."
        "Bagged?"
        "As evidence."
        Junior felt unspeakably violated. This was outrageous: the inarguably personal, very private contents of his stomach, scooped into a plastic evidence bag, without his permission, without even his knowledge.
        What next, a stool sample pried out of him while he was knocked unconscious by morphine? This barf gathering surely was in violation of the Constitution of the United States, a clear contravention of the guarantee against self-incrimination, a slap in the face of justice, a violation of the rights of man.
        He had not, of course, taken ipecac or any other emetic, so they would find no evidence to use against him. He was angry, nonetheless, as a matter of principle.
        Perhaps Dr. Parkhurst, too, was disturbed by this fascistic and fanatical spew sampling, because he became brusque. "I have a few appointments to keep. By the time I make evening rounds, I expect Mr. Cain to be conscious, but I'd rather you didn't disturb him until tomorrow."
        Instead of responding to the physician's request, Vanadium said,
        "One more question, Doctor. If it was acute nervous emesis, as you suggest, wouldn't there have been another cause besides his anguish over the traumatic loss of his wife?"
        "I