Murder is the Pits

by Mary Clay

  “Have you had a chance to check your chemistry books?” I asked.

  “I did an Internet search this morning and found a Popular Science article on aluminum rusting. It’s a fairly recent piece and the culprit is mercury. Mercury turns aluminum to rusty mush—and fast. According to the article, a substantial aluminum I-beam turned to dust in a matter of hours. I checked Guthrie’s shutters, and they’re still deteriorating. I didn’t go under Mrs. King’s house, but I’ll bet her new-fangled water pipe is dissolving, too. No telling how far it’s gone. She’ll probably have to replace it all.”

  “Is mercury poisonous?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding? It’s deadly. Haven’t you heard all the press about mercury contaminated fish?”

  “Mercury forms little balls, doesn’t it? Is it possible to inhale it?”

  I could almost see Timothy shake his head. “Mercury vapor is deadly. Anyone working with mercury—stirring it, pouring it, whatever—better take precautions. It’ll kill ya. At first you become crazy, then nauseous, and it progresses from there. Not a pretty picture. Don’t fool with mercury, whatever you do.”

  Crazy: Mattie Holden. Nauseous and, maybe, crazy: Clyde Holden. Scooter, who knew? Animals can’t tell you what’s wrong. Bummer, as Guthrie would say.

  “Timothy, that scenario describes the Holdens perfectly. I can call the hospital and tell them we think Mattie may have mercury poisoning, but I think it would carry more weight if it came from you. The docs aren’t sure how to treat Mattie—your information could be valuable.”

  “Who do I call?” Timothy asked. I gave him the number and Priscilla’s name.

  An hour later Timothy called back. “Positive for mercury on all counts.”

  “Lord, that’s the glitter. Someone must have dropped mercury on the floor and spread it around.”

  “Every droplet lets off vapor. It would have been a lot better if it had been left in a big lump,” Timothy said.

  “Clyde vacuumed up the glitter,” I said, remembering Mattie’s comment.

  “Vacuumed?”

  I could hear trepidation in Timothy’s voice. “Yes, vacuumed.”

  “That’s how it became airborne. Scooter was so short his nose was in the vapor. The little pooch didn’t have a chance. The vacuuming is why Clyde died and Mattie didn’t. Mattie was affected, for sure, but the vacuum probably blew the fumes right into Clyde’s face. I need to call a HAZMAT team. Don’t go over there, whatever you do.” Timothy paused. “Leigh, you and Penny Sue should probably go to the hospital to get checked. Is anyone showing symptoms?”

  If the first symptom was confusion or acting crazy, who could tell with Penny Sue? When I thought about it, she could have had mercury poisoning her whole life. Considering our bizarre circumstances, I felt fairly normal. “Anyone feel funny?” I asked. “Timothy thinks we should go to the hospital for a blood test.”

  “Yes! I have a headache, and I didn’t sleep a wink all night,” Ruthie shot back. “We should go now.”

  “If it’ll make you feel better, we’ll go. Give me a few minutes to put on my face,” Penny Sue said.

  “Slap on some lipstick and wear your big Chanel sunglasses. We don’t have time for you to primp. We could be in mortal danger!” The veins on Ruthie’s neck were sticking out. That was a first, even though she was skinny. She was wound up tighter than a tick, and I doubted that all the chanting in the world could soothe her.

  “Ruthie’s right,” I said. “With the hurricane, no one’s out and about. We won’t see anyone we know except other sick people.” I winked at Penny Sue. “Let’s go now and get it over with.”

  “You drive, Leigh,” Ruthie demanded. “She’s been drinking.”

  Penny Sue folded her arms defiantly. “Aren’t we the stickler for detail? I’ve had about as much alcohol as you’d get from a slice of rum cake. If it will make you happy,” she virtually sneered, “Leigh can drive my car. Hers isn’t big enough for normal people.”

  My VW bug was so big enough for normal people! It was abnormal humans like Penny Sue—I bit my tongue and picked up my purse. “Fine, let’s go.” I snatched Penny Sue’s keys from the counter and headed for the front door. I started the Mercedes as Ruthie and I waited for Penny Sue. A moment later, a white Taurus with government tags pulled in behind us. Woody got out. I slapped my forehead at the bum luck. If Penny Sue had been a little faster, we’d have avoided his obnoxious presence.

  Woody tapped on my window. I opened it reluctantly.

  “I heard your depositions were postponed indefinitely,” he said.

  “Indefinitely? The lady who called this morning said it was only for a week.”

  “A week, two weeks, no one knows. I spoke with one of the Fed’s attorneys. He said it was doubtful you’d be called.”

  “That’s great news,” Ruthie said from the backseat. “Can we go home?”

  “Not yet, nothing’s been finalized.”

  Woody drove out here to tell us that? He wasn’t that nice. Besides, we’d already heard as much from the judge. There was no doubt in my mind that he knew we knew the judge had talked to everyone who was anyone. So why was he here? “Is there anything else?” I asked at the moment Penny Sue dropped into the front passenger seat, her face noticeably turned away from Woody. I knew she was embarrassed that she didn’t have on her full face. Woody took it as an insult.

  His eyes bore holes into the back of Penny Sue’s head. “I wanted to tell you that the man who fell from the balcony was Antonio Accardo, a known underling for the New Jersey mafia. You know, the guys you may have to testify against. His wound wasn’t an accident. It came from a 9 mm Takarov, a Russian weapon. Old Tony was carrying a Glock.”

  Penny Sue lowered her head and stared at Woody across the top of her sunglasses. “Get to the point. What does that mean to us?”

  Woody shuffled and flashed his smarmy grin. “We’re not sure what it means, but I reported it to the Feds. They may take steps.”

  “Like what?” Penny Sue demanded.

  Woody shrugged. “It’s up to them.”

  “You mean, you were told to butt out?” Penny Sue said.

  “Absolutely not.” His body language said otherwise.

  “If you have some free time, you may want to go to the hospital,” I started.

  Penny Sue poked my leg, a shut-up maneuver.

  I ignored her. “There’s a good chance Clyde Holden died from airborne mercury poisoning. Anyone in that room could have been contaminated.”

  “Are you sure?” he said, for once sounding sincere.

  “Do you think I’d be going somewhere without make-up otherwise?” Penny Sue piped in.

  “I guess not.” Woody hurried to his car and backed out of our way. Wonder of wonders, he had some manners. Wrong. I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw him on his cell phone. No doubt notifying his troops. Good, it saved us the trouble and the time—we needed to get going now!

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  August 16-17, New Smyrna Beach, FL

  We all had elevated mercury levels, though none of ours were critical. Penny Sue’s level was highest, bordering on dangerous—not surprising since she’d been closest to the floor when she tried to revive Clyde. The hospital said they could do a chelation treatment to remove the mercury, but Ruthie was skeptical. “We’ll call Chris first,” she whispered as the doctor outlined our options.

  “Mud. You need magnetized mud. Works much faster than chelation. Not that there’s anything wrong with chelation, it’s just slower,” Chris told us as we huddled around the speakerphone in the kitchen

  “Magnetized mud? Where do we get it?” I asked.

  “FedEx is running, I’ll have some to you by tomorrow,” Chris said. “A bath of this will take care of the problem.”

  “A mud bath?”

  “Don’t worry, it’s really soothing.”

  The liquid taser and mud arrived the next day on the same FedEx shipment. Ironic. The first was to pro
tect us by shooting/polluting people with electrified water, the other to remove our own pollutants. Penny Sue immediately plugged in the taser batteries to charge, then headed to her bathroom, the only one with a tub. She was wasting no time. Under the circumstances, I agreed completely.

  Chris had shipped eight bottles of magnetized mud that supposedly removed metals and pollutants from your system. Ruthie filled the tub with warm water as Penny Sue stripped. I spooned the mud into the stream of water with my fingertips. It dissolved instantly, turning the water a light tan.

  “You don’t reckon it will dissolve my fillings, do you?” Penny Sue asked, down to her bra and panties.

  Ruthie studied the instructions. “No, says it won’t affect fillings—only the toxins in your cells.”

  “Teeth have cells, don’t they?” Penny Sue asked doubtfully.

  “Fillings don’t,” Ruthie replied.

  “Right,” Penny Sue looked at me, “then put in two jars. I want to get everything out now. Lord, I could become autistic. Surely you’ve heard about the link between mercury-based preservatives in vaccines and autism in children?”

  Sure I’d heard about it, but Penny Sue autistic? Not attached to people, like men? Too late for that, yet I wasn’t going to argue.

  Ruthie rolled a towel for Penny Sue’s neck and she settled into the mush. “Hey, this is nice,” she sighed. “Really relaxing. Boy, a glass of champagne—”

  “No, you’re clearing toxins, remember?” Ruthie said sternly.

  “O-okay,” Penny Sue said dreamily. “How long?”

  “At least a half hour,” Ruthie read from the instructions.

  “Tell me when it’s over.” Penny Sue closed her eyes.

  We tiptoed out, closing the door to her bathroom and the bedroom. Good thing, we were only halfway down the hall to the great room when the doorbell rang. It was Officer Heather Brooks.

  “Sorry to bother you. I thought you should know that we’ve found another body.”

  I was momentarily distracted as the weird fisherman passed through the parking lot behind Heather. He tipped his hat.

  “Body? Whose? Where?” I asked, opening the screen door and ushering Heather down the hall.

  “A man, mid-40s we guess. He was found in the dumpster of the cluster next door.”

  “The one on the other side of the public boardwalk?”

  She nodded. “He was shot once, in the head. No identification except he had Cyrillic letters tattooed on each knuckle of his right hand.”

  “Cyrillic?” I asked. “What is that?”

  “Russian alphabet,” Ruthie replied quietly.

  Russian? I immediately thought of Yuri. His hands were perfectly manicured and definitely not tattooed. Still, an interesting coincidence. “I don’t believe I want to know what you think this means.”

  “The first victim was Italian. This one Russian, or at least Russian mob related. You ladies are possible witnesses against a New Jersey Italian mob boss. Russians play in that territory, too. All this is off the record, okay? Do I have your word on that?”

  “Of course,” Ruthie and I said in unison.

  “I’m not trying to scare you, just be especially careful. I’m afraid you’ve landed in the middle of a mob war.”

  “Mob war?” Ruthie went white. “A mob war? I’ve never even had a speeding ticket.

  “Yesterday was the new moon.” Ruthie rubbed the back of her neck, thinking. “And, there was a huge solar flare. Solar flares affect the Earth’s geomagnetic field. We are all electrical beings. Our nerves are electrical impulses. A big jolt of electricity from the Sun could send unstable people over the edge. That’s it! Someone got a jolt, went berserk, and killed the Russian.”

  Heather patted Ruthie’s shoulder. “I’ll take your word for it. I only want y’all to be careful.” She scanned the room. “Where is Penny Sue?”

  “Don’t worry, she’s in the bathtub. By the way, have you talked to Woody?”

  “Not in the last day.”

  Jerk. He should have called Heather about the mercury. I filled her in on the details. “If the hospital says your levels are elevated, come back, and we’ll give you a magnetic mud bath. It’s supposed to clear you of toxins.”

  “If the mud works on toxic colleagues, I’ll be back right after my shift.” Heather grinned.

  “It probably wouldn’t hurt.”

  As I closed the door on Heather, Penny Sue screamed, “Help, I’m stuck!”

  Ruthie and I rushed to the bathroom. Penny Sue wasn’t kidding. The magnetized mud had congealed to a Jell-O consistency, and Penny Sue was flopping around like a big jellyfish. Every time she managed to get to her knees, she lost traction and slid back into the slimy mess. I giggled uncontrollably. She wasn’t amused.

  “Don’t laugh, you’re next,” she said, wagging her finger.

  Ruthie and I each took hold of a slick arm and tried to pull her to her feet. She slithered through our fingers and landed back in the tub with a plop.

  “Damn, that hurt,” she whined.

  Ruthie and I bit our lips to keep from laughing. Lord, I wish I had a camera handy. Completely covered in goo, Penny Sue looked like an alien from a low budget space movie. I swallowed hard to keep a straight face. “Did you pull the stopper so it could drain out?”

  “The stupid stuff is too thick to go down the drain.”

  Ruthie nodded. “We probably shouldn’t have used two jars.”

  “I don’t think we’re going to be able to pick you up.” I washed my hands in the sink. “The only solution I see is to drag you over the edge of the tub.”

  “Drag me? Drag me like a sack of potatoes?”

  No, a big side of greasy beef. Of course, I didn’t say it. I reached under the sink and pulled out a stack of towels. I took a bath towel, folded it in half, and draped it over the edge of the tub. “This will cushion you.” I handed Ruthie a hand towel. “We’ll use the hand towels to grip your arms. What do you think?”

  Penny Sue folded her slimy arms over her slimy boobs and pouted. “I don’t like it one bit.”

  “If the tub weren’t so full, we could try diluting the mud,” Ruthie said. “We could scoop some of it into the sink, then try to water it down.” She raised a brow hopefully. “Want to try that?”

  “Yes, but hurry. I’m getting cold.”

  I gave her a towel to put around her shoulders. Ruthie fetched a pitcher from the kitchen, and I turned the sink’s hot water to a slow stream. Ruthie dipped a container of goo from the bathtub and dumped it in the sink. The hot water washed it down the drain, but very slowly.

  “Hell, this will take forever,” Penny Sue groused. She tossed her towel on the floor and held up her arms. “Drag me. And, if I hear a single word remotely resembling fatback or slick as a greased pig, I’ll shoot you in the foot with the taser.”

  Ruthie and I wrapped towels around her arms and dragged her out. She landed face down on the floor like a beached whale. “Don’t just stand there, help me up,” she sputtered, giggling. By now we were all laughing so hard, Ruthie and I didn’t have the strength to move. Penny Sue was on her own. She struggled to her knees then pulled herself up by holding onto the sink. Ruthie, literally bent double with hysterics, tossed some towels around her. I dashed ahead to start the shower in our bathroom. A half hour later Penny Sue was stretched out on the sofa sipping green tea, goo-less and good as new.

  “Do you feel any better?” Ruthie asked.

  “I think so. Relaxed if nothing else. You know, after y’all have your soak, we should go back to the hospital and have our blood tested again. I want to be sure it worked.” She gave me a devilish grin. “Your turn.”

  I studied her, wondering if she had a trick plotted. With Penny Sue out of the tub, the mud level fell considerably, allowing us to turn the shower on low. It worked. By the time I got to the bathroom, the mud had drained out. One thing for sure, I was only using one jar.

  I filled the tub, spooned in the mud and settled in.
It was surprisingly pleasant. I lay back with my head on a towel. Next thing I knew, Ruthie was shaking me and saying my time was up. Penny Sue and Ruthie both stood in the doorway watching, obviously wondering if I could get up.

  I scooped a handful of the muddy water and let it drip through my fingers. “No problem, it was the second jar that did it.” Ruthie took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Piece of cake,” I said, smugly. Penny Sue made a disgruntled, feral sound.

  I toweled off as Ruthie drained the tub to prepare her own bath. Penny Sue had dressed and put on her full face. I took the hint and ducked into my room. My full face meant a little moisturizer, a swipe or two of mascara, and some lipstick. Penny Sue probably worked on her face the whole time I soaked, while my toilet took about ten minutes. Hey, it’s the beach!

  Penny Sue was making finger sandwiches of deviled ham and Tabasco olives when I emerged. The combo sounded funny, yet tasted surprisingly good. I downed two, not realizing until that moment how hungry I was. She handed me a glass of iced green tea.

  “Ruthie told me about the body in the dumpster. A Russian, she said. It couldn’t be Yuri, could it? Ruthie never met him.”

  I snatched a third sandwich. “I’m sure it wasn’t Yuri. Heather said the victim had Cyrillic letters tattooed on his knuckles. I noticed Yuri’s hands when he gave me his card—a perfect manicure and no tattoos.”

  Penny Sue let out a sigh of relief. “I know we don’t agree, but I thought he was a nice guy. Not bad looking, either. I’d hate to think he was caught up in a mob war and killed.”

  “I don’t wish him harm, I just think he’s buying up all the real estate. You know I’m looking for a place here, and someone—I suspect Yuri—keeps beating me to the punch. His interest in Mrs. King’s condition was crass, to say the least. I got the feeling he hoped she’d croak so he could swoop in and buy her place.”

  “All we know is what Guthrie told us and he goes for dramatics,” Penny Sue said.

  “You’re right, I may be jumping to conclusions. It’s partly frustration. I haven’t found a place here, even though I cruise the neighborhood twice a day. Several have been sold, the rug pulled right out from under me.”