Coastal Disturbance

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Coastal Disturbance Page 18

by Jessica Speart


  I could feel Gary grinning straight through the phone wire.

  “Besides, I think I figured out where Wendell is getting his manatees from.”

  “Spill the goods, Rach.”

  “I stopped by the water park a few days ago and had a chat with Candi.”

  “Be still my heart,” Gary teased.

  “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I noticed that one of the manatees was swimming rather funny.”

  “How so?”

  “Lopsided. At first, I thought it was because a kid was trying to ride the animal. Then I figured maybe it had something to do with stress. But I’ve been digging around since and learned that manatees like to hang out near industrial plants with heated effluents.”

  “I think I see where you’re going with this,” Gary said.

  “The only problem is that DRG’s water discharge isn’t heated.”

  Damn! So much for my theory.

  “However, the one at the pulp mill certainly is, and that’s only a hop, skip, and swim away. Which means that manatees would still be traveling up the Turtle River and into that area of Purvis where the vegetation is chock full of mercury, regards of DRG. And they’d obviously be munching on it.”

  A note of disgust rose in Gary’s voice as he continued to speak.

  “Good work, Rach. I may make a top-notch scientist out of you yet.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind in case I get sacked. By the way, I’m planning to take another spin over to Manatee Mania and see if I can twist more information out of Candi. Care to come along?”

  “You do know how to tempt me, don’t you?” Gary chortled. “But I’m afraid that I’m going to be busy today running all those test results once more. After that, I have to summarize the results and make a bunch of copies to send off to environmental groups. Being a whistleblower is a full-time occupation, you know,” he joked. “But let me give you a few more clues to look for while you’re out there. See if you can spot a manatee that any won’t eat anything, or if one of the mothers seems unable to feed her young. That’ll be a tip-off that something is wrong, which might possibly be tied into mercury poisoning.”

  “Will do,” I promised.

  “Remember I told you that there’s always more than one way to crack a case wide open? Well, if manatees really are being affected by mercury, then you’ve just found a whole new angle of attack. We may still be able to put both DRG and Manatee Mania out of business by the time we’re through.”

  “You sure know how to make a girl feel good,” I teased.

  “In that case, how about stopping by at the end of the day? I’ll give you a copy of the test results, and we can celebrate with dinner.”

  I didn’t want to turn down Gary’s invitation after having done so just the other night. Especially not with all that he was going through right now.

  “We may not have a smoking gun here, Rach. But there sure are a hell of a lot of bullets on the floor,” he offered as further inducement.

  “How can I refuse?” I laughed. “See you later on.”

  “Love ya, partner,” he added and hung up.

  Part of me wondered if he actually meant it. I began to head for the door when the phone rang again.

  “Hey, chère. How you feeling this morning?”

  Santou’s voice wrapped itself around me like a warm cocoon. Each of my pulse points sprang to life at the memory of what had taken place after he’d removed my dress last night.

  “Fine. But then why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because you packed away quite a few drinks before bed. You’re beginning to make me look like a rank amateur.”

  The sparks were instantly doused, and I felt myself begin to bristle.

  “I don’t drink more than I can handle,” I curtly retorted.

  “Well, it’s sure beginning to seem like a helluva lot these days.”

  “Did you call to scold? Or is there something you actually wanted?” I coldly responded, and immediately felt guilty. For chrissakes, this was the man who’d put his own career on hold to be with me in Georgia.

  “Take it easy, chère. It’s just an observation, is all. Believe me, I’ve been there. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “For chrissake, it’s not like I’m drinking during the day,” I gruffly responded, determined to fight the guilt.

  I wasn’t about to mention the few beers I’d had the other afternoon on my way to meet Eight-Ball. As far as I was concerned, those didn’t count.

  “Listen, I don’t want to fight. In fact, just the opposite. I made reservations for us to have a fancy dinner tonight in Savannah. I thought we’d live it up and go to Elizabeth’s on Thirty-seventh Street. What do you say?”

  Either Santou had come into money, or he was also feeling bad about something. That was both a fancy, and an expensive restaurant.

  “I wish you’d told me sooner. I’m afraid I already have other plans.”

  My response was met with a moment of frosty silence. Damn! What was going on that was so special tonight? My head began to pound. Maybe Santou was right. Perhaps I did have a little too much to drink last night. I rummaged through my drawer, pulled out a bottle of aspirin, and knocked two back with the last of my coffee.

  “What’s going on that you’re not telling me about?” Jake asked, his tone now tinged with suspicion.

  “Nothing. There’s just a bunch of paperwork piled up, and Lowell is on my back.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Rachel,” Santou responded, his voice becoming tense and low. “You never gave two hoots about that before. So what gives?” He paused and I held my breath, wondering what he would ask next. “Are you seeing another man?”

  Oh God. That was it. Santou was jealous. He still didn’t trust me. The last thing I wanted was for him to worry about that again.

  “Of course not. Look, something is going on. I can’t talk about it yet, but things have gotten rather crazy around here. Gary just turned whistleblower this morning.” I realized too late that I should have kept my big mouth shut.

  “Goddammit, Rachel! Then why did you lie to me last night when I showed you that letter?”

  “Precisely because of the way you’re reacting right now. I didn’t want to deal with it.”

  The silence between us deepened.

  “When are you ever going to learn that I’m just trying to help you?” Santou finally asked.

  “And when are you going to learn that I don’t need your help?” I stubbornly retorted. “Besides, you’re one to talk. I didn’t see you taking my advice last night.”

  The silence now turned prickly around the edges.

  “I’m sorry about dinner, Jake. But I have to go through a bunch of test results and reports. Please trust me. It’s important. Can’t we go out tomorrow, instead?”

  “No. I’m catching a red-eye late tonight and will be gone for a few days.”

  “Then, why did you even want to go out to dinner in the first place? You’ll only end up feeling rushed,” I tried to reason.

  “Forget it, okay? It’s nothing. I just thought you’d like to celebrate the anniversary of when we first met.”

  I inwardly groaned, feeling more guilty than ever. That had been five years ago. It could have been a lifetime, considering everything we’d been through since then. The fact that I’d forgotten the date was yet another black mark against me, one that I’d have to work hard to erase.

  “I’m sorry, Santou. My mind’s been a sieve lately. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  Santou must have sensed how badly I felt. He immediately softened. “It’s not a big deal, chère. We’ve got plenty of years left to celebrate.”

  The fact that he forgave me so easily only made it that much worse.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, already beginning to worry. “Does this have anything to do with the case that you mentioned last night?”

  But Santou only partially answered my question. “Down around Miami. I’ll call tomorrow morning if I’m gone b
y the time you get home. I’ll also leave my cell phone on so that you can reach me.”

  “I love you, Jake,” I said, wanting things to work out between us more than ever.

  “I love you too, Rachel. Please take care of yourself.”

  “Don’t I always?” I joked, though my heart wasn’t in it. I was too concerned for Santou’s safety. I waited until I heard him hang up, and then ran out the door.

  Fifteen

  I played leapfrog all the way south along Highway 17, practically mowing down cars that drove too slow. Okay, so I should have opted to travel on I-95. But then, how could I have enjoyed this great scenery—even if it was rushing by at record speed? Instead, I reveled in the beauty of the Georgia coastline, made all the more bittersweet since I now knew that hidden beneath lay a dirty little secret. Perhaps someday people would realize that man and nature are integrally intertwined, rivers and oceans are one, and no place is totally immune.

  I swung left onto the F. J. Torras Causeway, which rose and fell in a series of humps like a roller coaster ride. It provided a bird’s-eye view of the land as it melted into the marsh, before joining with the sea. Lowering the Ford’s window, I stuck out my hand, certain that if I stretched hard enough I could pluck a bird from the sky, so close was I to the firmament that hung above me like a freshly starched sheet.

  Laurel, sweet gum, and live oak filled the air with their heady perfume as I landed on St. Simons and hurried along the winding road. Light filtered down, turning palmetto fronds into gleaming stars beneath the thick foliage canopy. But the only thing on my mind was how best to approach Candi in hope of saving the manatees. Unless I could do that, all my work was for naught. My thoughts wandered once more to Williams and Drapkin, as well as Fish and Wildlife’s dynamic duo, Montgomery and Lowell.

  You’re the naïve stooge in all of this, Rachel.

  Maybe so, in that I was unwilling to play the game. But then fighting for wildlife seemed to be imprinted in my DNA. How could I allow creatures so unique to disappear while I stood by and did nothing? There was no question but that I was in a race. No longer did it matter if I won every meet, only that I stayed the course. What other choice did I have when the world was losing over three species an hour, eighty a day, thirty thousand a year?

  Soon the water park came into view. The plastic manatees standing guard seemed to wink at me as I drove through. I heard them whisper, Good luck! The joke’s on you.

  We’ll just see about that, I cockily retorted.

  I was more determined than ever to twist Candi, no matter what I had to do.

  I hurried through the park, paying little heed to kids colliding in bumper boats, and screaming on the Ferris wheel ride. Instead, I followed the raucous notes of Aerosmith belting out “Dude Looks Like a Lady” straight to Manatee Lagoon. Flashing my badge, I stepped inside and looked around, but Candi Collins was nowhere in sight.

  Damn, damn, damn!

  The lopsided manatee was also AWOL.

  “Any idea where Candi might be?” I asked the ticket taker, who sat prettily perched on her stool.

  The babe summoned up a noncommittal shrug. The next marine biologist in training finally got the message that I wasn’t about to go anywhere until she gave me an answer.

  “Why don’t you try the aquarium?” she wearily suggested.

  I rushed over and entered the building. Just as before, none of the manatees were chowing down in the tank. Jeez. When did Wendell give these animals a meal break, anyway? Not that any of the food floating around inside looked all that appealing.

  Candi had to be somewhere on the grounds. The question was, where to find her? Going back outside, I walked toward the corral where tourists paid to pose with manatees. Perhaps she was doing a photo shoot. I opened the gate and peeked inside.

  There was Candi in the pool, attempting to bottle feed a young calf that was struggling to get away. A lock of long blond hair obscured her view, so that she didn’t notice as I walked over and knelt down behind her.

  “Hey, Candi. What are you doing?”

  She jumped and the manatee escaped her grip, quickly swimming back to its mother.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you?” she angrily demanded, turning to face me. “Can’t you see that I was trying to feed the poor thing?”

  “Don’t you think its mother should be doing that?”

  “Of course. For chrissake, I’m not dumb about this stuff, you know,” Candi snapped in frustration. “Except that she’s refusing to nurse her baby. So, what else am I supposed to do?”

  “How about helping to get these manatees transferred to a facility that actually knows how to care for them?” I suggested.

  “Wendell says hands-on experience is the best teacher there is, and I have plenty of that,” she defiantly responded.

  “And you believe him? Come on, Candi. You know better than that. Wendell’s a greedy man who doesn’t want to spend a penny more than is absolutely necessary. As far as he’s concerned, these creatures are disposable. After all, he can always get more of them, right?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Candi obstinately retorted, thrusting out her jaw like a bulldog squaring off for a fight.

  “Okay then. At least tell me this. Where’s the manatee that was swimming on its side the other day?”

  Candi looked away as her lips began to tremble.

  “I know you love these animals, Candi. I’m also aware you’re doing everything that you can for them. So why won’t you let me help save them?” I gently asked, trying to reel her in.

  She looked back at me, and her eyes welled up with tears.

  “Why not speak with someone who’s been doing this a bit longer? Experts consult each other all the time. You never know. You might learn something useful.”

  But she firmly shook her head. “No, it’s too late for that. Nothing will help now.” A sob wracked her voice. “Dasher’s already dead.”

  Candi wrapped her arms around her bare midriff, as if that would help contain the sorrow. But a renegade sob escaped, skillfully penetrating my veneer so that I also had to wipe away a tear. Maybe it still wasn’t too late for something good to come from all this.

  “Where is Dasher’s carcass stored?”

  Candi looked at me as though I were crazy. “What are you talking about?”

  “I have a friend—a doctor—who can perform an autopsy on Dasher. That way we’ll find out what caused her death, and maybe prevent it from happening to the other manatees,” I explained, suspecting it would provide further evidence of mercury poisoning.

  “She’s gone,” Candi replied, wiping her nose with her hand.

  I pulled a tattered tissue from my pocket and gave it to her. “What do you mean, she’s gone?”

  “Wendell had her cremated. He always does that. I think it has something to do with his religious belief,” Candi revealed, while blowing her nose.

  Why that wily old coot. Yeah, the philosophy of his religion was, let me keep raking in the bucks and make sure that my ass stays out of jail, oh dear Lord. It was time to unmask Wendell for who he really was.

  “Let me tell you a little something that I’ve learned, Candi. The Turtle River and Purvis Creek are badly contaminated with mercury. If that’s where Wendell is getting his manatees from, then there’s a good chance that all of the animals here have been affected. Should I clue you in as to what the symptoms are?”

  It was clear that Candi was listening, even though she refused to meet my eyes.

  “Manatees lose their balance so that they can’t swim straight. They also suffer from a loss of appetite and aren’t able to feed their young.”

  Candi now looked at me without a word.

  “But there’s more. I’ve learned that mercury is purposely being dumped in the water.”

  “Why would anyone ever do that, even if it were true?” she asked in alarm, curiosity having gotten the better of her.

  “Probably to save money in the lon
g run. Why else?” I disclosed, dangling the bait. “But of course, that’s all part of doing business, right? Who knows? Maybe the culprit will eventually be caught and forced to pay a small fine.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Scum like that should be locked up and the key thrown away,” Candi vehemently insisted.

  “Otherwise they’ll just do it all over again.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” I agreed. “But it’s not always easy to obtain the kind of solid evidence we need. That is, unless someone who knows about it decides to come forward and talk.”

  “Well, you’re some kind of cop, aren’t you? How hard can that be?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s find out. I’ve been able to pinpoint the plant that’s responsible. The mercury is coming from DRG.”

  Candi looked as though she’d just been slapped in the face.

  “But that’s impossible! Howard would never do anything to hurt manatees. Not when he knows how much I love them. In fact, he said his plant is like a spa with all the water that’s released. And the place next door even discharges it hot. That’s what attracts them! Besides, he got me this job. Why would Howard do that if he were going to hurt manatees?”

  My pulse boogie boarded through my veins as fast as greased lightning. Candi had as much as admitted that the water park’s manatees were coming from Purvis Creek. Now all I had to do was to bring it on home.

  “It’s true that manatees love warm water, Candi. And there’s nothing wrong with them hanging out near heated effluents. The problem has to do with the spartina grass that they’re foraging on. Just think about it. What’s the closest creek in which they can feed in that area? Purvis, of course.”

  Tears now began to stream down Candi’s cheeks as she watched the two manatees in the pool beside her. The mother clearly tilted to one side, even as she tried to care for her calf.

  “How many more manatees are you going to let this happen to?”

  “I’m not doing anything to hurt them!” Candi sobbed, as though she, herself, had been wounded.

 

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