Split Second (Sean King & Michelle Maxwell, #1)

by David Baldacci

“Fours with coxswain, meaning four women pulling for all they’re worth and a coxswain calling out the strokes. The focus is absolutely complete.” “What was it like to be in the Olympics?” “The most exhilarating and most nerve-racking time of my life. I was so stressed I threw up before our first heat. But when we took the silver and came within a hair of the gold, there was no greater feeling in the world. I was still basically a kid and felt like I’d reached the pinnacle of my life.” “Still feel that way?” She smiled. “No. I’m hoping the best is yet ahead for me.”

“It’s ironic they put it in the Scotch. Scotch contains ethanol, which is an antidote to methanol, because they both seek the same enzyme. However, there was so much methanol in the bottle the ethanol couldn’t have countered it.

“He could have been killed any number of ways, but it had to be in a manner that wouldn’t require an autopsy, because that would have messed up the timing. Martin had to die in his bed. So he did, and Mildred found him there and assumed he died naturally, although the docs tell me death by methanol is by no means peaceful. And methanol metabolizes into formaldehyde, which is toxic, but then it’s oxidized into formic acid. That’s six times more lethal than methanol.”

And get this: she told Mildred her name was Elizabeth Borden.” King exclaimed, “Elizabeth Borden, as in Lizzie Borden who gave her mother forty whacks?” “And when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty-one,” added Joan. “So we have some people with a real warped, macabre sense of humor,”

“You can’t arrest someone for being stupid; otherwise, you’d lock up at least half the population.

I like funeral homes. You hear the most delicious gossip about the dearly departed, usually from their friends.”

“And where do your long-range thoughts lead you?” “Nowhere until this mystery is cleared up. The problem is, even if we solve this thing, the damage has been done. I really might have to move from here.” “Running away? That doesn’t sound like you, Sean.” “Sometimes it’s just best to strike the tent poles and move on. You sort of get tired of fighting, Joan.”

“Who knows what beats deeply within the hearts of people?”

You took the curves life threw, and you either adapted or got left by the side of the road, a self-pitying wreck.