“What is it? A bomb?”
“Don’t be silly. Of course not. It’s poison.”
Frowning, Herb stepped away.
“Hey, what’s up, Chervil? You scared?” Googie teased.
“Yeah, right. I’m sweating bullets.” Herb swaggered toward Carlotta and took the box. He cut the yellow tape around it, slashing through the caution warnings. Inside was a single chocolate, marked with a skull and crossbones. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Carlotta. That’s pretty cute.”
“Oh, no, Herb.” Carlotta’s face was grave. “It is not cute at all. This is not a game, I assure you. And I’m warning you, in front of all these witnesses, that the chocolate in that box contains a highly lethal poison. One of the deadliest in the plant kingdom, in fact. I extracted it myself from the root of my Aconitwn napellus, prize specimen of the family Ramunculacecte. Poor thing suffered some pain, I’m afraid. Actually, he’s been acting a bit dejected since the surgery, but I’m told he’ll enjoy a complete recovery.”
“Sure, right. Whatever you say.” Herb chuckled.
Carlotta’s brow peaked in surprise. “Have you never heard of aconites? How surprising. I was certain you would have. They happen to be fellow herbs. Perennials such as yourself, in fact. Aconites are showy like you as well, Herb. And, like you, their venom has dire, disastrous effects.”
Herb held the chocolate gingerly.
“Check it out: he’s terrified.” Googie guffawed.
“Shut your stupid trap,” hissed Herb. “Let me get this straight, Carlotta. You’re handing me this so-called poison chocolate and warning me not to eat it?”
“Definitely. Anyone foolish enough to ingest that would start to choke. He’d experience terrible restlessness, drooling, and nausea. Soon, his heartbeat would grow weak and irregular. He’d suffer dreadful chest pains, dizziness, prostration. There would be catastrophic damage to several major organs almost immediately. By the time EMS arrived, it would be too late to reverse the effects. Death would be inevitable, but unfortunately, it could take hours for that sweet mercy. It’s a rather excruciating way to go, I’m told.” Carlotta had to smile at that, but she quickly reverted to a sombre expression. “Sounds like the sort of end you’d only wish on your very worst enemy, Herb. Trust me.”
Herb’s gaze bounced nervously from the chocolate to Carlotta’s face and back again. Beads of sweat erupted on his brow.
Googie slapped his chubby knee. “Look how she’s got him going. Score one for Carlotta.”
The others chimed in. “You should see the look on your face, Herb,” said Raquel.
“Priceless,” Wendy blurted. “You look like you’re about to go pee-pee in your pants.”
Herb’s cheeks flamed. “Cut it out!”
“Buck up, there, Herb old man,” chided Chip Savage. “It’s only a game.”
“No, it isn’t,” Carlotta insisted. “I’m telling you. This is perfectly serious.”
“You’ve got him seriously scared. That’s for sure.” Googie flapped imaginary wings. “Kentucky fried chicken, Herb does chicken right.”
“Don’t call me that, Googie. I mean it.”
Julia and Apulia took up the cry. “Chicken. Buck-buck-buckaw.”
“Stop that, you two. I’m not kidding. And I’m not scared by some dumb joke.” Herb’s fingers quavered as he lifted the chocolate from the box.
“Don’t do that, Herb. I’m warning you,” said Carlotta.
“Carlotta’s warning you,” Googie taunted. “You better watch out.”
“I’ll eat the damned chocolate,” Herb mewled. “I’ll show you, Googie Nathanson. I’ll show all of you.” By shaky millimetres he moved the candy closer to his mouth.
“Wait just a darned minute,” Carlotta demanded. “You’ve heard me, Herb. All of you have heard me. Do you want your dear buddy to die, Google? Is that what you’re after?”
“You’re really a scream, Carlotta,” Googie said. “Go on, Herb. We dare you.”
Carlotta puffed her disgust. “I simply cannot watch this. I’m leaving.”
“Come on, Carlotta,” Googie whined. “You can’t go until he sucks down that deadly poison you brought. You’d be missing all the fun.”
“Encouraging a dear friend to die is not my idea of fun, Googie.”
The chocolate was five inches from Herb’s mouth now. Four.
“Eat it, eat it,” chorused the guests.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Carlotta said.
Scrunching his eyes, Herb popped the chocolate in his mouth, chewed and quickly swallowed. A moment later, his eyes bugged and he made a harsh choking sound.
“Check him out,” roared Googie. “That’s priceless, Herb.”
“You’re too much, Herb. What a card,” Myron whooped.
Carlotta sighed. “Poor Herb. Someone should call nine one one, not that they’ll be able to do any good.” She watched Herb clutch his throat and crumple to the floor. Then, she headed toward the foyer. “Au revoir, everyone. And to you, dear Herb: Good-bye.”
An ebullient Carlotta misted and sprayed. “So sorry I’m late, my precious gloxinia. I do hope you weren’t worried, darling Cymbidium. I’m afraid I simply lost track of the time.”
The death of Herbert Alton Lattimore IV still commanded headlines. On her way home from the unemployment office, Carlotta had stopped to pick up the day’s bounty of papers and magazines.
The coroner had closed the case this morning, deeming the incident a suicide. Oddly, Carlotta had not been called as a witness at the inquest, though she’d been fully prepared to tell the absolute, unadulterated truth. Several local friends had testified that Herb Lattimore was despondent in recent months. Googie Nathanson was quoted as saying, “He must have been even more depressed than I imagined. Why else would he do such a desperate, crazy thing?”
Why indeed? Carlotta mused. What could possibly drive a man to put his life on the line for some silly game? It was all too dreary and foolish to even consider.
She turned her full attention to her precious plants. Lovingly, she dusted the droopy leaves and parched blossoms of her ailing Aconitum napellus. The stem was lolling a bit as well. Carlotta propped it with a Popsicle stick and a bit of twine. “There now, sweetheart. I hope you aren’t terribly, horribly angry with me for clipping your roots. You know I wouldn’t have done such a thing if it weren’t for a just and worthy cause.”
Carlotta brushed aside a bit of soil and peered at the roots. Her heart soared. Things were healing just beautifully beneath the surface. All good things would follow in time.
Eric Lustbader
For many years, Eric Lustbader was identified on his dust jackets as Eric Van Lustbader, and the books were martial arts adventures that regularly found their way onto the best-seller lists. Having seen a Bruce Lee movie once, and years later a Chuck Norris movie, I viewed these martial arts productions as analogous to the wit they offered viewers-it was halfway there. However much ‘martial’ there was on display, there was precious little ‘art’.
Because I found no pleasure in the movies, I expected to find equally little to enchant me in books devoted to descriptions of the scenes I found so improbable on the screen.
Then I read a book by Marc Olden, which I liked. The author later recommended Eric Van Lustbader to me, and I learned that I’d been missing something after all. As time passed, however, Lustbader dropped the Van and his novels became more mainstream crime novels set against a big canvas, much of it in the Far East, and they are a thrill a minute. Now, of course, I’m baffled that these thrilling adventure novels aren’t made into movies. Preferably starring Steven Seagal or Sylvester Stallone or Bruce Willis or another of those bulked-up guys who can perform remarkable physical feats.
The following story is nothing at all like those novels, it should be noted. Nor like the movies.