After our walk, I settle into doing some work and Zoom with a client about their marketing strategy for a new product they developed. It’s nearly 1:00, and I can take a break and grab some lunch. I decide to check out some information about arsenic. I know it’s a fast-acting poison that kills in minutes if given enough, but in smaller amounts, it causes gastrointestinal symptoms, including abdominal pain, diarrhea, heart disease, numbness, hair loss, convulsions, and even cancer. I learned about it many years ago in one of my gardening classes when pesticides were discussed.
As I read, I realize that arsenic is found in several things, either organically or non-organically, and it’s not that easy to get. One such source is pesticides. The use of arsenate pesticides has largely been eliminated in the U.S., but three states still have contamination, including Washington, Wisconsin, and New Jersey. You would have to be exposed, though, for longer amounts of time to have the systematic effects. So, how did the killer get arsenic?
I scroll down, and this paragraph catches my attention.
Arsenic is a naturally occurring element that is widely distributed in Earth’s crust, according to the CDC. Pure arsenic, a steel-gray brittle solid, is typically found in the environment with other elements, such as oxygen, chlorine, sulfur, carbon, and hydrogen, making it a colorless powder with no taste or smell. Because of this, you can’t typically tell if arsenic is in food, water, or the air. It only becomes deadly when used with phosphorus since they have similar atomic structures. Phosphorus is essential to human life, while arsenic is disruptive and deadly. When used in pesticides, it kills all manner of insects and almost every other form of life.
So, it can kill slowly or quickly, depending on its source and volume, and can be virtually undetectable. If this person who texted me the riddle knows Troy was killed with it, how do they know? Am I really conversing with the killer? And why me? What do I have to do with any of this?
I contemplate talking to Brock about the text messages. Obviously, someone is toying with me, but why? Is it to scare me, warn me, or something else? If I tell Brock, he will want to report it to the police, but I need to follow this and see where it leads. If I feel in danger, then I will go to him. I know he will be upset and hurt, but these messages maybe aren't meant to harm me but to inform me.
I turn on the TV to see if any new information has come out since yesterday, but nothing so far. I know getting the medical examination report back can take days or longer, so I have to wait.
I look around my kitchen, a stark contrast to Leah’s. We’ve lived in this house for thirty years when Ian just turned 5, and it looks like it. We have the same cherry oak cupboards and marbled white and black tile. The windows have a film I can’t see to remove, and our table is made from a dark cedar my brother-in-law gave us for our 20th anniversary that looks a little worn.
We did redo our counters at the same time Leah did hers, as she gave us the wholesale discount from one of the suppliers of her interior design company. We chose a sleek white and black speckled granite that we did in both the kitchen and the bathrooms about five years ago and painted the walls beige throughout the house. A few accent walls of creamy white and smoky blue completed the look.
I have Knick knacks on a few shelves in the corner back wall and one large square mirror to frame our table. And like Leah, I cut fresh flowers and arrange them weekly.
The rest of the house looks lived in, especially when our grandchildren come over. Occasionally, we have sleepovers with all 8 of them. After playing games, we spread sleeping bags downstairs, give them pizza, popcorn, and drinks, and then they crash after watching TV for hours. Brock and I sit in the living room upstairs with a glass of wine and watch our show. We check on them, turn off the TV and lights, and head to our bedroom.
It gives their parents a much-needed break, and we get to spend time with them, sugar them up, and then say goodbye. It’s a win-win.
When we bought our home in 1993, we loved the layout. The three-story, 2800 sq foot property housed a large family room, den, and half-bath downstairs. A spacious living room, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom were on the main floor. Upstairs were three bedrooms with two more bathrooms – the master and the guest. All three boys had a room, with Josh and Ian upstairs and Eric in the basement since he was older. A small attic split the boy’s bedroom, and our room was across the hall, so we watched both monsters well. A master bath and guest bathroom down the hall was our saving grace.
My oasis, though, is our backyard. Sitting on ¼ of an acre are several gardens I tend to, with a cobbled stone pathway that leads to the west and east gate, a water fountain over to the east corner with circular rows of perennials and annuals, including petunias, sweet alyssum, and lilies surrounding it. On the south side, a white vinyl fence is a backdrop for purple and yellow irises with different annuals in front that I plant every year. We also have a trampoline and playground for the grandkids on the east side of the house.
A large wraparound deck on the bottom level attaches to a similar one on the top, so we have plenty of room to host barbeques and parties. And my favorite structure is the gazebo in the middle of our lawn which is the main attraction. I cut out the grass surrounding it and planted rows of pink and purple hydrangeas. Since they like shade more than sun, the gazebo protects them.
I snap out of my trance and realize there’s not much food to eat after the grandkids ransacked it the day before, and since they are coming back tomorrow, I need to replenish the milk, cereal, and stuff for lunch and snacks. It’s expensive feeding four kids these days.
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After I pillage Walmart for anything and everything we would need for the week, I get home and check the TV for any news. I sit down on my plush tan couch and hope there's something, but I know there's likely not. When nothing shows, I turn it back off and then remember I would call Grayson, (Gray) The Chief of Police.
I punch in his number and wait.
“Chief Grayson,” he answers, sounding weary.
“Hey Gray, it’s Trice. How’s it going?”
“Well, let’s see, my dog died last week, the fridge is broken, and now I have a dead body we have yet to ID, and the press is breathing down my neck.”
“Oh no, Peaches died?” He loved that dog and took her everywhere with him, but I could tell she was getting old and wasn’t sure how long she had left.
“Yeah, bone cancer. The vet said she would have died of something, given how old she was.” I could tell he didn’t want to talk, as I could hear him sigh. Peaches was nearly 14, but losing your fur baby is still heartbreaking even though they get old.
“So, what can I do for you?” Now, I feel bad for calling and doing what the press is doing, breathing down his neck about the dead body.
“Not much, just wanted to say hi.”
“Trice, I know you, and you don’t just call me to say hi, so out with it.” Shoot, now what do I say?
“I just thought, you know, you can fill me in on the details of what happened at Deanna’s.” I cringe, knowing I’m wasting his time.
He sighs again, this time heavily. “Look, right now, all I know is that Deanna discovered a male body yesterday morning around 8:00. She was shocked and didn’t know how the body got there or how long it had been there. She said nothing ever looked out of place, and she was afraid of what the police would ask her because she had no idea how it happened and when. From the looks of the body, it wasn’t there a very long time, maybe a few months.”
I narrowed my eyebrows. “Only a few months, that’s it? That makes no sense. Someone had to have dug up her plants, dropped Troy in the ground, and then replanted them. Who would have done that and why?"
He cocked his head. "What makes you think it's Troy?" Oh shoot, I didn't even think about what I was saying.
“Come on, Gray. Who else would it be? He's been missing for two years. What father just up and leaves his family without a word and then never contacts them again?" He bows his head, and then I remember. His father did when he was 13. "Oh, Gray, I- I didn't mean ..."
"No, you're right. Who does that? Unfortunately, more than you think."
"I just don't think Troy would; he doesn't seem like someone that would abandon his family." But then, maybe I didn't know Troy as well as I thought I did because I never thought Gray's father would leave either.
"Believe me, Trice, I hope not, but it may partially explain the dead body. But, seeing as he hasn't been heard of or seen for two years makes this case very strange. I mean, where has he been and why kill him now?"
I take a chance. "What did Deanna say when you questioned her?"
"Trice, you know I can't divulge that information." I tried. "But, I can say that she told one of my officers that she went out there regularly to weed but never saw anything suspicious.” Deanna weeds? In all the time I have known her, I never saw her in the yard weeding. She watered and trimmed but did not weed. She told me it hurt her back, and they would return the next day anyway.
That part is true.
“Gray, do you know when the examination will be concluded?”
“They promised me by end of week, but the full tox results won't be in for a week or longer.”
So, in another two days. “Okay, thanks for humoring me.”
“Did I have a choice?” He chuckled.
“Not really.” Gray knows I’m a stubborn mule and won’t stop until my questions are answered, or problems are solved. Maybe that’s why I love gardening and marketing so much. There are always challenges to address and fix, and then you see the reward.
“Well, I need to get some paperwork finished. Need anything else?”
My thoughts race back to the unknown text messages, but I never say anything to Gray.
“No, but thanks for the info. I just wish we had any inkling of why someone would do this.” But the following four words Gray utters to me haunt me the rest of the day.
“If you only knew …”
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