The Turtle Mound Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

threaten, not kill or maim, thus Woody agreed to let Penny Sue
off the hook. His reprieve was definitely reluctant; there was no
doubt in our minds that Woody was still furious at Penny Sue for
dumping him twenty-odd years ago, not to mention the incident where
he’d dropped his drawers in front of us.
    Following a stern lecture from the Judge the
next morning, the three of us set out to do what we’d come to
Florida for—have fun. First, we had to unpack. We’d been so bummed
out the previous evening, we made no attempt to settle in the
condo. We’d merely supped on snacks from the cooler, fished
nightgowns from our luggage, and fallen into bed. Ruthie and I
volunteered to stow our gear, while Penny Sue went for
groceries.
    With one suitcase apiece, Ruthie and I made
quick business of getting ourselves situated. It was Penny Sue’s
belongings that offered the challenge. Three large suitcases, a
small closet, and one chest of drawers presented a problem worthy
of an industrial engineer. We decided to take the approach of an
assembly line, where I unloaded the suitcases and handed the
clothes to Ruthie, who put them away. The system worked fine until
I found a stack of underwear at the bottom of the third suitcase.
“Uh oh.” I held up an amazingly small, iridescent blue thong with
two fingers.
    “More underwear?” Ruthie complained. “That
screws up my whole system. I’m going to have to move everything.”
She jerked open the bottom drawer of the bureau and stared. “What’s
this stuff?”
    I peered over her shoulder to see what she
was talking about.
    The drawer contained a heap of thermally
sealed plastic bags of white powder, with a featheredged note card
wedged between two packages in the center. Ruthie pulled the card
out and held it so I could see. Mark how he trembles ... was
embossed in bold letters across the top. Below that, 200 @ 6 was scrawled in small letters, followed by Same time, same
place in ornate, handwritten script and a smiley face.
    Ruthie ran her finger along the ragged edge
of the stationery, then held it up to the light. “This is really
expensive stuff,” she observed, pointing to the watermark. “Italian
Amalfi. Daddy used it years ago. The process for making this paper
dates back to the 1300s.”
    As one who’d used Post-It notes for most of
my correspondence since Zack and I separated, I was certain the
embossing alone cost more than my annual paper budget. I pointed at
the smiley face. “That Rick must be schizophrenic. A violent
environmentalist, with a foul mouth, who uses fancy stationery and
draws smiley faces. Go figure.”
    “Must be a Gemini,” Ruthie replied
matter-of-factly, lifting the bags out of the drawer and dumping
them onto the floor.
    “Be careful,” I cautioned. “I’ll bet those
are Rick’s pesticides. He probably treats the whole complex and
stores his chemicals here. Penny Sue said no one had used this
place in a long time.”
    “I’m going to throw them away. Rick won’t be
back.”
    “You can’t put chemicals like that in the
trash. There are strict laws about disposing of hazardous
substances.”
    She stared at me, hands on hips, as if I’d
lost my mind. “I’ll flush them down the toilet.”
    “That’s worse, you’ll pollute the
groundwater. Besides, we should keep them for insurance.”
    “Insurance?”
    “In the event Rick tries to make trouble,
we’ve got evidence.” I’d learned the importance of evidence, but
good, in my dealings with Zack.
    “Well, what should I do with this?”
    I grabbed a trash bag from the bathroom,
scooped the packages into the bag, and started to move them to the
closet. The load was so heavy, I feared the sack would break. “This
won’t do.” I dropped the bag and headed across the hall to the
utility room to look for a better container. A bucket with a rag
mop, broom, vacuum and assorted cleaning supplies were stowed in
the space between the clothes dryer and the wall. “This is
perfect,” I