South Seas Shenanigans

by Abby L. Vandiver

  The men responded in unison, “Maca.”

  I was so excited, I couldn’t sit still. I wiggled in my place and Miss Vivee smacked my leg.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “I love long-steeped tradition,” I said. “It’s what I do for a living.”

  “Well, you’re here on vacation. So sit still.”

  The men were served first, and Mac winked at me before he downed his. “How does it taste,” I asked and scrunched up my nose, I was a little nervous. I didn’t want to act squeamish.

  He nodded and smiled.

  Finally, it was my turn. “Bula,” I said after my clap. I downed it in one gulp, but it was hard. It looked like muddy water and tasted bitter. Afterwards, I could feel a slight tingling and numbness on my tongue, which I guess I should’ve expected since it was a mild narcotic.

  I handed my bowl back and clapped three times.

  Now this was my idea of having a good time.

  The ceremony lasted only about fifteen minutes, and we stayed another hour or so afterwards. We talked and listened to staff members play guitar. I didn’t want it to end.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “While we were at the Kava ceremony,” Mac said. “Which, I thoroughly enjoyed by the way.”

  “Me too,” Miss Vivee said, her eyes twinkling. “Isn’t Kava just the most wonderful drink? I’ll have to grow some in my greenhouse.”

  We were back in Miss Vivee and Mac’s bure. Bay hadn’t made it back yet, and they were trying to keep me occupied so I wouldn’t worry.

  “Yes,” Mac said. “It is a nice drink. But what I was going to say is that it made me think of something.”

  I hope it’s nothing that will send Miss Vivee further down her rabbit hole.

  “What is it, Mac?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “Well, you know how they explained that Kava can’t reproduce sexually?”

  “They weren’t telling me anything new,” know-it-all Miss Vivee said. “I know of other plants that are like that.”

  “Well it started me to thinking about estrogen.”

  Is this the way all old people are? Random, crazy thoughts are just twirling around in their heads?

  “Uh-huh,” Miss Vivee said as if that wasn’t a strange thing to think of. “Go on.”

  “And it reminded me that anti-estrogen pills are used by some athletes.”

  Miss Vivee tilted her head and let her eyes drift off as if she was thinking. Then her eyes lit up, and I knew this was going to be a “rabbit hole” conversation.

  “Used by athletes who take steroids!” Miss Vivee said and clapped her hands together. “Just like Campbell Gruger.”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked.

  “Steroids can be water retentive,” Miss Vivee said.

  I’m sure that meant something to her death-by-murder theory.

  “And?” I asked. I hated the way they’d have those half-verbal/half-cerebral conversations between the two of them, knowing that I didn’t understand one iota of what they were talking about. I reached for my phone. I felt a Google moment coming on.

  “That’s how he died of hyponatremia,” Miss Vivee said.

  Oh yeah. Right. Now I understand.

  I pushed the Home button. Because I didn’t have the faintest idea what they were talking about.

  As usual.

  “Some steroids convert to estrogen in the body,” Mac said before I could access Google.

  I stopped. Okay finally someone said something I understood. “Well I know about estrogen being water-retentive. That’s why women bloat every month.”

  “See how smart you are when you use that noggin?” Miss Vivee said.

  “So wait.” I still needed to talk it out. “Some steroids are converted to estrogen?”

  “Didn’t Mac just tell you that?”

  “So,” I ignored Miss Vivee. “If Campbell Gruger took steroids, then he would have retained more water than normal.” I nodded my head. I could follow that line of reasoning. “He could have retained more, but could he have drank enough to retain enough water to kill him? And,” I cocked my head to the side like Miss Vivee had done. “Why doesn’t every athlete, or people with renal failure, or anyone – everyone – else taking steroids die from hyponatremia?”

  I looked at Miss Vivee for an answer, but it was Mac who offered it.

  “Remember, I said that people take anti-estrogen pills?”

  “Oh yeah, you did say that.”

  “It counteracts the water retentive properties.”

  “So to me,” I said. “That means there are things that you can take that will make your body hold water. And retaining too much water is not good. I know that, too.”

  “Because it’ll make you die,” Miss Vivee said.

  “Wait.” I wasn’t finished thinking it through. “And I know that if your electrolytes are thrown off balance, it isn’t good. That’s why they say to drink Gatorade when you exert yourself because it replenishes your electrolytes.”

  “That’s right,” Mac said.

  “And sodium is an electrolyte.”

  “Oh good, Lord. How long are you going to take to figure this out?” Miss Vivee said. She let her hands go limp, slapping them down on her thighs and hung her head.

  “But what if a person didn’t replace those electrolytes?” I said. I looked at Mac, he was smiling at me. “Then a person would naturally drink more water because they’re thirsty. From exertion. Too much water, not enough electrolytes that would equal hyponatremia.” I stopped and sat back in my seat. I finally saw the connection. “That would make them susceptible to water intoxication.”

  “Right,” Mac said.

  “So maybe . . . And. Okay. And,” I was fitting all the puzzle pieces together like Mac said he had done. “If your electrolytes were thrown off severely enough,” I shrugged my shoulders. “Even a normal amount of water could be too much.”

  “That’s what I’ve been saying,” Miss Vivee said and held her arms out like she was pleading with me.

  She actually hadn’t said any such thing, but now it was all making more sense to me. I needed to look up what could throw a person’s electrolytes – sodium – off besides sweating and steroids.

  I looked at Miss Vivee and Mac. I knew I could have asked them. Mac would have explained it to me nicely – grandfatherly like. Miss Vivee would have been disgusted, a scowl on her face, at how little I knew even with my four degrees . . .

  I pulled out my iPhone.

  Hey Siri.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Hey Miss Vivee, I said. “Did you know that Ecstasy can throw your electrolytes off?” I looked up from my research.

  “What does being too happy have to do with anything?” Miss Vivee asked. “Looks like the wires are crossed on that phone thingy of yours. Doesn’t seem to be working right on this side of the world.”

  “Ecstasy the drug.”

  “I don’t take drugs,” she said.

  I just decided to read what I’d found.

  “Methylene – dioxy – methamphetamine,” I read breaking up the long word phonetically, “commonly known as Ecstasy,” I emphasized the word, “is a psychoactive drug used primarily for recreation. Desired effects include increased empathy, euphoria, and heightened sensations. It has no accepted medical uses.”

  “That’s probably why I don’t know anything about it,” Miss Vivee said. “If it has no medical uses, then it has no use to me.”

  “People using drugs such as Ecstasy,” I kept reading, “may overexert themselves, perspire heavily, feel increased thirst, and then drink large amounts of water to rehydrate, leading to electrolyte imbalance and water intoxication. This is compounded by the use of the drug increasing the levels of antidiuretic hormone (ADH), and decreasing the amount of water lost through urination.”

  “Why do you keep reading that?” Miss Vivee said in a high pitched voice.

  “Because I thought it
was interesting.”

  “Well it’s not,” she said, eyes wide.

  “Ecstasy is called the ‘love pill,’” I said.

  “The love pill?” she asked.

  “Yep. Because it supposedly amplifies sensations during sex.”

  Miss Vivee didn’t say a word. I looked at Mac, he was watching her too.

  Had I embarrassed her?

  I chuckled. I doubted it, not with her constant off-colored remarks. “Anyway,” I said, getting back to my point. “With him having an affair he could have been taking it. Not knowing it would interact with all the water he was drinking as part of his training. Then,” I nodded, “his death could have been accidental.”

  “Or maybe he even died of a heart attack,” she said and looked at me. I knew she said it to make fun of me and my usual theory.

  “It is another way that he could’ve been killed, Vivee,” Mac nodded. “He did say he was feeling happy, and he wouldn’t have had to take those Happy Pills of his own accord.”

  “That’s true,” Miss Vivee said.

  “So then now, that should help you out,” Mac said.

  “It does,” Miss Vivee said.

  “Help you out how?” I asked.

  “Vivee was a little frustrated because she couldn’t figure out a way that someone could get Campbell to drink enough water to kill him.”

  “Is that right, Miss Vivee?” I asked. “You were upset?”

  “He didn’t say upset. He said frustrated,” Miss Vivee said. “Two different words. Two different meanings.”

  “Well it was kind of bothering me too,” I said trying to empathize.

  “Everything bothers you,” Miss Vivee said. “If you didn’t have that little phone of yours to explain everything, we’d never get through a murder investigation.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Why don’t we go over your suspects’ list?” Mac said. “You’ve pretty much got all the pieces now. Your theory on death was confirmed, and the Kava Ceremony gave us a clue of how it might have been done.”

  Suspects’ list? I hadn’t seen Miss Vivee write in her notebook once since she started her investigation.

  “Good idea,” Miss Vivee said. “You know that Campbell Gruger was like a shapeshifter. He was different things to different people. I can see why anyone would want him dead.” She shook her head. “Poor Sassy. He sure pulled the wool over her head. He was so manipulative.”

  Miss Vivee dug down in her purse and pulled out a notebook like the ones I always buy for her from Hadley’s Drugstore. As she flipped through the pages, I could tell that it was filled with information.

  “When did you write all that stuff down?” I asked.

  “Whenever I interviewed a suspect or got an idea of what might have happened.”

  “How come I didn’t know?” I asked.

  “I told you,” Mac said. “Vivee was feeling kind of frustrated.”

  “And you kept asking dumb questions,” Miss Vivee said.

  “No-” I started to say something and changed my mind. I knew Miss Vivee was feeling upset, whether she wanted to admit it or not, about her murder plot theory not unfolding as smoothly as it does for Miss Marple. “So, let’s hear who the suspect are,” I said instead.

  “It really was a good thing I stopped by Hadley’s and bought a couple of notebooks before we left,” Miss Vivee said and pulled out a #2 pencil. She gave the tip a lick. “I even got a pack of new pencils.” She gave a firm nod. “I needed them with all the suspects around here.”

  “And who is the first one on your list, Miss Vivee?” I asked.

  “Elenoa.”

  “Elenoa?” I asked. “I can’t believe it. I thought you liked her? You danced the Meke with her and everything.”

  “Well she went on my list before I questioned her and found out she was a nice girl and a Voodoo doctor – of sorts. And her name was place here rightly so.” She tapped on her notebook. “I can’t just decide because I like someone that they can’t be a suspect any longer. Nice people kill too.”

  Don’t I know it, I thought. She’s accused Me, Mac and Renmar of committing murder.

  We have a saying in Cleveland, “If you don’t like the weather, just wait a minute, it’ll change.” And that was Miss Vivee. A fair-weather friend – give her a minute and she could change her opinion of anyone. Dance the Meke with you one day, accuse you of murder the next.

  “So, tell me about Elenoa’s reason for murder.”

  “She’d sure know how to do it,” Mac chimed in. “Her being in holistic medicine and all.”

  “Exactly,” Miss Vivee said. She paused and read over her notes. “And she was right. She said that Campbell Gruger was manipulative.” She jabbed the notebook with her finger. “It’s likely that she knew he manipulated her, too. He cared about biking. He cared enough that he wanted to train, and he took it seriously. No one puts on that much of a ruse to see another woman. He was taking steroids, even talked to Mac, wanting to be healthy while he trained.”

  “He sure did,” Mac said.

  “Plus,” Miss Vivee said. “She blamed everyone else for the murder. Pointed fingers everywhere wanting to take the suspicion off of her.”

  “If that’s the case,” I said. “So did everyone else. Everyone you talked to told you who else could have done it.”

  “What about Hank Harrison?” I said.

  “What about him?” Miss Vivee said.

  “He turns up everywhere we do. Like he’s spying on us. Or on something.”

  “You think he thinks we killed one of them?” Miss Vivee asked.

  “No. I just think there is something strange about him. He’s up to something.”

  “Well did you see him acting that way before the murder?” Miss Vivee asked.

  I shrugged. I didn’t really remember seeing him doing much at any time. “No.”

  “Well, I know one thing. He used to follow Mad Cow around. He was love struck.”

  “With Madda?”

  “Yep,” Miss Vivee said. “You didn’t go around the guests as much as we did. I noticed it from the first day we got here. His acting strange just might be grief.”

  I was going to have to start being more observant.

  “But I do have Avvy and Temo on my list of suspects.” Miss Vivee flipped a page. “They should have been number one.”

  I laughed. “They make millions here, I don’t think they’d jeopardize it to kill someone.”

  “They were colluding with Madda to get this place from Rigieta. You heard Elenoa.”

  “Elenoa?” I asked. “One of the many people that you don’t believe a word they’re saying?”

  Miss Vivee sucked her tongue.

  “How are you going to trust things that Elenoa said, Miss Vivee, when you think she’s a suspect?” I looked at her. “Murderers are liars.”

  “I thought it was gossipers that were liars,” Miss Vivee said.

  “They both are,” I said. “Gossipers and murderers. All liars. And, if Avvy and Temo wanted to kill Madda, they wouldn’t have given Campbell Gruger a water retentive drug on the off-chance that he might be on a moped when he croaked so he could run over Madda and kill her for them.”

  “I still got them on my list,” Miss Vivee said and flipped another page in her notebook. “Harley Grace.”

  “She’s a good choice,” Mac said. “But I would have to add that she was pretty upset about his death.”

  “It was all an act,” Miss Vivee said. “To throw us off her trail.”

  “She and Campbell Gruger were close,” I said. “I believe that even though she didn’t admit it to us, she was his trainer.”

  “And maybe more.” Miss Vivee lifted her eyebrows à la Groucho Marx style.

  “So love triangle?” I said.

  My go-to cause of death was a heart attack. Miss Vivee’s go-to motive for death was love triangle. Just like I hadn’t been right in any of the murders, neither had Miss Vivee.

  “Maybe,
” Miss Vivee said. “And Harley Grace knew he was taking that long ride around the island she had the perfect opportunity to do it.”

  “Century ride,” Mac said.

  “Right,” Miss Vivee said. “She helped him set up those support stations, as she called them. What if she didn’t set out enough of the protein mix, and instead only provided water at those stations?” Miss Vivee bit her bottom lip thinking through Harley Grace’s possible plan. “He would have had to drink what he had. And being depleted of energy after seven or eight hours on that bike, he would have drank just what he had.”

  “That’s true,” I said. “And she also had access to his steroids and the protein powder. She could have added something to it. Maybe a little Ecstasy.” I teased.

  “And he’d only been back from his ride an hour or two when he died,” Mac said. “Enough time to succumb to water intoxication.”

  “She could have easily fiddled with any of those things in the tent,” Miss Vivee said.

  I could see the wheels turning in her head.

  “And so could’ve Gregory Can,” I said.

  She nodded. “He did have the opportunity. He probably knew where all those support stations were.”

  “How did he get steroids, or whatever he used to ensure Campbell Kruger retained the water?”

  “Athletes get steroids all the time,” Mac said. “I don’t think it would be hard for him.”

  “Are those all of your suspects, Vivee?” Mac asked.

  Miss Vivee nodded her head. She was still thinking.

  “Okay,” I said moving on. “That’s five people. I can’t see Avvy and Temo killing him.” I stopped and waited for Miss Vivee to oppose me. She still wasn’t talking. “And,” I continued. “Of the other three, like we said, each one of them voiced strong motives for any of the other two to commit the murder. Possible trying to deflect their own guilt.

  “Elenoa because he wasn’t going to leave his wife. He was just using her while he came here to train,” I said. “As did Harley Grace by lying saying she hadn’t any plans on training him and she was happy with the camp like it was. And Gregory Can had motive because he was still angry with Campbell Gruger for getting into an accident with him, breaking his collarbone.”