"Very nice," he said. "Quick. Did you use a derivative of that green fungus?"
I said nothing. Max's nostrils were white and pinched. "Must I make an autopsy?"
"Why bother?" I said. "It's obviously heart failure."
"Yes, why bother?" he said. He looked tired. "Stay in your cabin, Greta. I'll bring your meals."
"I don't trust you."
His laughter had a touch of madness.
March 10
Max unlocked my cabin door this morning. He looked drawn. "Listen," he said. "I've checked my respiration, pulse, saliva, temperature. All normal."
"So?"