Murder is the Pits (16 page)

“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 protect 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.”

“Do you have Yuri’s card?” Penny Sue
asked.

I fetched the card from the top of my
dresser. “His office is on the North Causeway.” I handed it to
Penny Sue.

“Let’s drive by there and see what his
office looks like. You can tell a lot about a person by their
habitat.” Penny Sue took a sip of the green tea and stared at the
liquid. “I hope this stuff is cleansing my system like Ruthie said.
I could sure go for a glass of Chardonnay about now.”

“I like green tea. But, if you wait until
after the blood test, I’ll join you.”

“Deal.” Penny Sue pursed her lips, thinking.
“Have you checked on the units that sold? What did they go for? Was
Yuri’s company involved? There must be a way to find out.”

“We need to talk to a realtor.” I checked my
watch. Ruthie’s time was up.

Most of the people who’d responded to Clyde
Holden’s death were in Bert Fish’s emergency room waiting for blood
tests. Our luck—Woody was in line directly ahead of us. We all
stopped short, no one wanting to stand behind him. Ruthie finally
stepped up to the plate, since our hesitation and frantic
whispering were drawing attention. Honestly, Ruthie was so
empathetic, she’d probably shake the devil’s hand rather than hurt
his feelings. Standing next to Woody was close.

Mr. Personality stared at us like we were
freaks. “I thought you’d already been tested.”

“We have,” I answered quickly before Penny
Sue could make a smart remark. “We’ve here for a recheck after our
cleansing treatment.”

“There’s a pill or something that will take
care of mercury contamination?” Woody asked.

“Yes, the doctor will explain it to you,” I
answered. There was no way I was going to mention our mud bath.

Fortunately, the line moved quickly, and
Woody struck up a conversation with a fireman in front of him.
Heather Brooks also showed up. Heather’s presence gave us the
perfect excuse to turn our backs on Woody. Penny Sue tried to
question her about the dead Russian, but Heather frowned,
indicating she couldn’t talk. Penny Sue had the sense to drop the
subject.

I had to give the hospital staff credit.
They’d ramped up for the onslaught of tests, establishing an
assembly line. One nurse drew blood; another labeled the vial and
passed it off to a lab tech. The results were back in about a half
hour—incredible for the average hospital. Most people, including
Woody, had very low levels of mercury. A nurse reported their
results, advising them to cut back on fish for a while until their
systems had a chance to clear.

Woody left, so we were next. A moment later,
Penny Sue poked me with her elbow.

“Ouch!” I drew back, rubbing my forearm.
“What was that for?”

“Here comes that cute Dr. Samuelson who gave
us the first test. Check his hand for a wedding band.”

“Wedding band? I’m going to get a bruise
from this—” I stopped as the doctor squatted in front of us. He was
cute, maybe too cute—meaning too young for us.

“Your test results are amazing. They all
show a substantial drop in mercury, especially yours,” he said,
patting Penny Sue’s hand. “When I saw your name on the lab report,
I was sure I’d be arranging chelation therapy. Don’t get me
wrong—your level is elevated, but you’re out of the danger zone.
What in the world did you do?”