In part two of this episodic psychological thriller, Nicole Jeffords. convinced that healer, Victor Goodlove, who disappeared ten years earlier is buried under her studio, continues her search for him, contacting old patients all over Austin and dis...
"What kind of information are you delivering? And to whom?"
Roy brushed her off on that one, too. All he would say was that the Foundation had unearthed some news about a volume of the Bukh and one of the descendants.
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A page from the journal of Henry Walsh Mahon showing the effects of scurvy, from his time aboard HM Convict Ship Barrosa (1841-2) — Source.
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"Look, there are more important things for you to know," Roy told her. Like about his daughter, Ginger, who would barely talk to him. And his sister, Diana, who hated his guts. Up till then Roy had been pretty quiet about his family. Janet knew his ex wife had had mental illness, and the marriage had ended after nine long years of Roy trying to help her. She knew he'd given up on relationships after that. Oh there'd been plenty of women in his life, but none of them serious. And his health had gone bad. Unbeknownst to him, he'd contracted Hep C from a razor he'd borrowed from his wife when they were traveling early in their marriage, but it wasn't till he had a medical checkup years later that he discovered anything was wrong with him. Janet queried him about that. At sixty-four, Roy was the picture of health and looked considerably younger than his age. She suspected he took herbs from Victor's greenhouse out back, and he admitted his brother had helped him with supplements when he was first diagnosed. "That was why I didn't need a regimen of horrible drugs."
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"Well, where are those supplements?" Janet asked. "Why isn't everyone taking them?"
Roy gave her a funny look. "When Victor disappeared, all the formulae disappeared with him."
That didn't add up. Roy was obviously taking something to look as good as he did. And what about all those plants they were so carefully tending with misters and grow lights in the greenhouse?
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Roy put his hand on her belly, which even this early in pregnancy was slightly distended. "One day I'll tell you about the supplements," he said. "Right now, all you need to know is if anything ever happens to me, you'll be told what to do."
"Well, have you?" I asked.
We were in Dallas and Siri was giving us directions to the synagogue in the northern part of the city where Roy's funeral was being held. Perhaps that was one reason Janet didn't answer. Instead she put her hand over her belly and said, "See, he knew he was in danger. His death wasn't suicide, like the police are trying to say."
