"People are afraid of what they don't understand, and people were afraid of tetrodotoxin. That's why my funding was pulled. They blamed it on a lack of finances, but things were happening too quickly."
"Maybe they didn't appreciate the fact that you were using it to get high," David suggested dryly.
LaRue frowned at him. "I'll admit to taking it even then, but I couldn't get it stabilized enough for human trials. And I couldn't ask my students to be guinea pigs. My colleagues kept arguing that it would never be controlled enough to use on humans. I had to prove them wrong."
"We're going to need the names of everybody you know who's involved in this underground movement of TTX use. Every single person."
"Most of them are college students. Just harmless kids."
He was backpedaling, unwilling to turn anybody in. Actually, an admirable character trait.
"We just want to talk to them," Elise said. She slid a piece of paper across the table, followed by a pen. "Write down every name you can think of."
It took about five minutes. When he handed the paper back, there were six names on it. "Is that all?" Elise asked.
"All I can think of right now."
David stiffened. She could see he was ready to press LaRue for more names. She folded the paper. "This will give us a place to start."
Then he talked about tetrodotoxin, telling them things they did and didn't know.
"The poison attacks sheathed, peripheral nerves, but doesn't cross the blood-brain barrier, which means the victim's mental functions are unimpaired. In the wrong hands, TTX could be the perfect method of torture. Imagine being able to do and say anything to someone while that person remained fully conscious and aware."
"Maybe that's why your funding was pulled."
"TTX is everywhere. Anybody can get it. Anybody can produce it. I was doing something worthwhile. I was trying to harness it."
Elise opened her briefcase and pulled out a five-by-seven of Truman Harrison and placed it on the table in front of LaRue. "Recognize this person?"
"I saw his picture in the paper."
"Ever meet him?"
"No."
Next came the black-and-white of Jordan Kemp, taken in the cemetery.
"Oh, man. This is some evil shit." He pointed to the photo. "You don't think I had anything to do with this, do you?"
"Did you know him?" David asked.
"Was he someone you sold TTX to?" The question was slipped in on the sly. Elise suspected LaRue of selling the poison, and hoped she could trip him up.
"I never sold TTX to anybody. Let's get that straight."
"Did you know Jordan Kemp?"
"I saw him a few times."
"Where?"
"Black Tupelo."
"You go to Black Tupelo?" David asked.
"Not for the reason you might think."
"What about Strata Luna?" Elise pressed. "Have you ever met her?"
"No."
"Sure about that?"
"I tried to. I wanted to meet her. Who doesn't? I finally convinced the kid, Enrique, to call her for me."
"So you talked to her on the phone."
"Yeah."
"What about?"
"I'd heard rumors that she knew how to make zombies. Total bullshit, I'm sure, but I thought she might know something about tetrodotoxin that I didn't. It can be mixed with different ingredients with varying results. Depends on the cocktail. It's hard to regulate the dosage of straight TTX, since the strength is all over the place. But it always does one of three things: gives a person a buzz, paralyzes, or kills."
"So what's your professional opinion about the Savannah cases?"
"Not straight TTX. Straight TTX paralyzes, yeah, but not for days. With tetrodotoxin, the user wakes up after a few hours or dies."
Elise took note of the instant when he realized he'd incriminated himself. On camera. In front of three people.
She looked at her partner. He was smiling.
Elise felt a little alarmed now that she realized just how close she'd come to dying that day at LaRue's place.
"That's about all we need for now, wouldn't you say?" Gould asked.
"I knew the strength of the tetrodotoxin I gave you!" LaRue said in a panicky rush, his handcuffs rattling. "I knew it wasn't enough to kill you!"
"That sounds like a confession," Gould said, mockery in his voice. "Shall we get some people in here for a deposition?"
"I thought you were going to drop the charges."
"I said we'd think about it," Elise said.
"I told you everything you wanted to know."
"Yes, but you also admitted to almost killing me. You're a smart man. Surely you can't expect us to responsibly release someone with your history."
"A history of attempted murder," Gould added.
"You need me!" LaRue said. "You know you need me!" He glanced up at the guard, then back to Elise. "This isn't over, is it? You'll be back, won't you? I helped you today. I can help you again."
"We'll consider it and let you know."
He jumped to his feet.
Gould shot upright, prepared to hit him if the occasion called for it. The guard stepped forward to stand to LaRue's left.
"When?" he asked, looking from Gould to Sandburg. "When will you get back to me?"
"Hard to say," Sandburg told him.
LaRue glared at her.
BITCH!
She was enjoying this, enjoying keeping him in the dark, toying with him. His anger shifted to Detective Gould. What did that reject know? LaRue thought with resentment. He'd never been picked on, never had anyone laugh at or make fun of him.
As if in silent communication, the detectives turned and began walking away.
LaRue held his cuffed hands toward their retreating backs. "I'm going to be fucked in the ass!" he sobbed.
Chapter 33
The evening of the LaRue interview, Elise picked up Audrey from school. In the courtyard behind the old Victorian, they grilled kabobs made with mushrooms, tofu, and mangoes, then walked to a nearby cafe" for frozen yogurt. Afterward, Elise helped Audrey with her pitching in Pulaski Square.
On the way back to Elise's, they passed a vendor selling a child's sleeveless dress with a no-puffer-fish design on the front.
Kinda cute, Elise thought.
The red-and-white sign had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It could be found on the windows and doors of every eating establishment in town, even McDonald's. It was a version of the no-smoking sign, only instead of a cigarette, it sported a puffer fish with a red diagonal line through it. Underneath, it read: no exotic fish sold here. Many restaurants had removed fish from their menu completely.
"This is so cool." Audrey held up a T-shirt, checking for size, visit savannah, we dare you.
How did these things appear so quickly? Elise wondered. Was there a secret factory somewhere in the United States, always on standby in order to pump out souvenirs for every disaster that came along?
An even hotter item was the latex glove. Since the mode of TTX delivery hadn't yet been determined, people were being warned to wash their hands thoroughly and often, and to keep all cuts covered. The public had taken it upon itself to stock up on disposable gloves.
Last Elise heard, the gloves were a fashion fad, with the purple and red ones being the gloves to be seen in. The local supply had been depleted, even the boring flesh-colored gloves, and now people in other parts of the country, even the world, were putting up boxes on eBay, where the bidding could often go as high as fifty bucks. Which went to prove you could never put a price on style or health.
"How much?" Elise asked the vendor.
"Thirty dollars."
"Thirty?" For a T-shirt?
"Twenty."
Elise pulled out her wallet and extracted some bills. "How about fifteen?"
The woman quickly pocketed the money before a tourist happened by. "We have charms to go with the shirts," she said with a sweep of her hand.
A basket in the corner held wangas. With the white T-shirt draped over one arm, Audrey picked up a wanga, sniffed it, and recoiled. "Ugh." She held it to Elise's nose.