Deadly Waters

by T. Alan Codder

  Sean pegged Maggie to be between thirty-five and forty. She’d probably been stunning at one time, and though time had softened her, she was still quite pretty with her big brown eyes and dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail.

  Sean forced a small smile. “Ms. Neese,” he said in greeting. “Who found the body?”

  “Call me Maggie. Everyone else does. Tim. He was making his rounds.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Maggie gave her head a toss in the direction of Fish. “The one your officer is talking to.”

  Sean watched Fish a moment but decided not to interfere.

  “Can you give me the thumbnail?”

  She shrugged, her hands in the pockets of her coat. “Not a lot to tell. We make rounds every three hours, just looking the place over, making sure everything is working as it should, nothing is leaking, that sort of thing. He saw the body hung up on the scum skimmer, but didn’t know what it was. When he started to fish it out, he realized what he had. He called the other operator and a couple of the maintenance guys and they pulled the body out. Then we called the police.”

  “Why didn’t you leave the body where you found it?”

  “Because, as I said, he didn’t know what it was. It was floating face-down just under the surface. Once he realized what it was, we knew we had to get it out of there because he’d pulled it loose. If we didn’t, it would’ve gotten sucked back into the mixer and we might never have found it again. Not without draining the ditch anyway.”

  Sean looked around. He’d never been in a wastewater treatment plant before and he didn’t understand what she was saying.

  “Can you show me?”

  “Sure. This way,” she said, giving her head a jerk before turning away.

  As Fish and Chips continued with their interviews, Sean followed Maggie to the end of a long, low, concrete wall then up some steps to a platform. Below them, about a foot below the top edge of the wall, was fast moving water the color of chocolate milk.

  “That’s the mixer up there,” she said, pointing.

  He looked to where she indicated. There were two large, concrete, bunker like buildings with enormous electric motors sitting on top, one for each of the two ditches. Below the top was a wide opening with water roiling and churning as it exited the structure.

  “Inside are huge blades that agitate the water. The water flows down this trough, around the curved end here, and then back to the mixer. We found the body there.”

  Maggie pointed to an opening in the curved wall where water poured though ahead of a line of bubbling foam trapped by a floating piece of plastic.

  “He was wedged in there, in that opening. You can’t see much because the water’s so murky. Like I said, he was floating face down and it wasn’t until Tim hooked the body and pulled it back that he could tell what it was.”

  “How deep is the water here?” Sean asked.

  “Around twenty-five feet.”

  “Any ideas on how the body got in there?”

  “Someone dumped it in there.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. There’s no way a body could get into the ditch unless someone put it there. If it had come into the plant any other way, it would have gotten caught on the screens,” she said, pointing to another concrete structure farther up the hill.

  Sean looked to where Maggie was pointing but couldn’t determine anything about what he was seeing.

  “That’s designed to catch debris the plant can’t handle, things like baby wipes, tampons, condoms, and all the other crap people flush down the toilet. There’s no possible way for the body to have slipped past that. But even if it did, then it would have hit the grit system. That filters out even finer stuff the screens don’t catch. So, to answer your question, no, the body was dumped into the oxidation ditch.”

  “Why here?”

  She shrugged. “You’re the cop, you tell me.”

  “Anything special about this ditch?”

  “This is where the bugs do most of the breakdown of the biological solids. They can’t handle the bones, teeth and clothes, but given enough time, they’d do a pretty good job of eating a person.”

  Sean looked back toward the mixer. As big as the motor was, if the body were to get in there it would probably be very effective in breaking a person into bite-sized chunks. The real question was: how did the body get into the plant in the first place?

  “You realize we’re going to have to question everyone who works here?”

  She grimaced. “Why am I not surprised? I can tell you this, nobody here did it.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “How would they? It’s not like you can just haul a body out here and chuck it into the drink. The place is manned by at least two people twenty-four, seven. So, unless at least two people were in on it, somebody would notice.”

  “You said the body had to have been dumped into the ditch, so it got in there somehow,” he pointed out.

  She stared at the ditch a moment. “Yeah,” she replied, drawing the word out, “but I have no idea how.”

  “What can you tell me about Boyd Thacker?”

  She looked down and shook her head. “That’s going to take a while.” When he didn’t say anything, she sniffed. “Can we go back to the office? I’m freezing.”

  “Yeah. Hang on a minute.”

  They walked back to Fish and Chips. He stepped away from Maggie and waited until Fish turned toward him. He gave a jerk of his head to call his officer to him.

  “Need anything from me?” Sean asked quietly when Fish joined him.

  Thomas Fisher, Fish to all who knew him, shook his head. Another young cop, like Chips, he blew on his hands then stuck them in his pockets. Where Chips was about average in height, and built like a football player, Fish was taller, about six-two, and slimmer, with dishwater blond hair, startling blue eyes, and a Romanesque nose that looked like a beak.

  “No. I think we’ve gotten about all we’re going to get from talking to the guys who found him. Not much to it. Tim saw the body, needed help to pull it out, and that’s it. I think it’s obvious the body has been in there for a while. Once we’re done with the interviews, Chips and I will walk the area, but honestly, I don’t expect to find anything, do you?”

  Sean gave his head a rueful shake then looked around the area.

  “No, probably not, but do it anyway.”

  Fish grinned. “I just want to go on record saying I hate you.”

  Sean chuckled, caught off guard by the out of context comment. “Why?”

  “I’m out here freezing my ass off, and you’re standing there with a windbreaker on like it’s a spring day.”

  Sean chuckled again. He had a good crew and he enjoyed the easy-going nature of the department.

  “It’s only, what, thirty-five, forty degrees? We still go swimming in weather like this.”

  Fish grimaced and shook his head. “Like I said, I hate you.”

  Sean grinned and slapped him on the back. “Just wait until summer when I’m dying from the heat.” He glanced at Maggie. “I’m going to go talk to… what’s her name? The plant manager?”

  “Maggie. Maggie Neese.”

  “That’s right. I’m going to talk to her about this Thacker guy and try to find out his story.”

  Fish flashed a grin then shook his head. “I’m not saying what happened is right, but I can’t feel sorry for the guy. He was a real piece of work.”

  “You knew him?”

  “Knew of him. Most everyone who worked for the city knew Mr. Boyd Thacker. Talk to Maggie. She had the most dealings with him and can fill you in on all the details. They butted heads… a lot.”

  Sean nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. You want to take the lead on this?”

  Fish groaned in mock dismay. “My first murder investigation. You do realize that other than a few robberies, I’ve never had to investigate anything, right? Isn’t this your thing?”

  Sean gave him a tight
smile. “Fish, I’ve never investigated a murder either, but it’s just like every other crime. Follow the clues and see where they go. If you need backup, get Chips, or me, and we’ll help you where we can.”

  “You’ll have my back on this?”

  “Count on it. I’m not hanging you out. That’s not my style.”

  Fish gave him a nod and a sideways grin. “Then sure. Chips and I will take a swing at it. If we can’t figure it out, maybe we can find a big city detective to show us the ropes. Know where we can find one?”

  Sean chuckled. “Raleigh is only forty minutes away. Call them.”

  Fish’s grin widened at Sean’s dry, self-deprecating humor. “Got it.”

  Sean wiped the smile off his face and then turned and walked toward his car.

  “Want a ride?” he asked Maggie as he passed, noticing her red nose and ears. “Save you from having to walk back in the cold.”

  She smiled. “I’d love one, thanks.”

  Two

  Sean pulled to a stop in front of the plant administration building and he and Maggie stepped out of his car. He glanced in the direction they’d come and realized he couldn’t see his officers or their squad cars. Blocking the view of most of the ditch were a pair of huge yellow and black generators and a large, green, faded and rust streaked, prefab metal building. The dumping of the body without someone seeing just became a whole lot easier.

  “I want to look at something,” Sean said as he stepped away from his car.

  He walked around the end of the building for a better view, and then continued along the entire width of the building. No matter where he stood, he could see no more than half the ditch.

  The plant was built on a slight hill, the oxidation ditch at one end of the facility, the entrance and admin building at the other. There was a gentle slope running from right to left as he looked in the direction of the ditch, with a shallow depression between them.

  “What are you looking at?” Maggie asked as she stepped up beside him.

  “I noticed I can’t see the squad cars.”

  “Yeah. The plant is built in kind of an L. The waste comes in up there,” she said, pointing to the highest point on the yard, “and runs downhill until we discharge it back there,” she added pointing to another large prefab metal building, this one gray and in better repair, at the lowest point in the yard. “We let gravity do most of the work for us.”

  He scanned the yard. “What’s in the big green building?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the structure blocking part of the view of the oxidation ditch.

  “That’s our equipment shed. It’s where our skidder, mowers, and other equipment are kept.”

  He nodded as he continued to look over the facility. “Maybe you can give me a tour sometime.”

  She sniffed then flashed a smile. “I’d be happy to. Other than a school tour once a year, people like to pretend we don’t exist. They don’t like to think about what happens to their poop when they flush.”

  “So, what’s the story on Thacker?” he asked as he turned back toward the front of the building, waving his hand in an ‘after you’ gesture.

  “What do you know about him?” Maggie asked as she led him back to the main entrance.

  “Not a thing, so start at the beginning.”

  When they reached the front of the building he opened and held the glass door for her. As she passed, nodding her thanks, he smiled at the plant name neatly stenciled at eye level—Lizard Lick Creek WWTP—and then followed her into the building.

  The building was typical for government construction, concrete block walls painted an inoffensive pale yellow, with a medium gray tile floor containing embedded flecks of red and green. It was much like the police station in that respect.

  “This way,” she said.

  Shrugging out of her coat as she turned left and walked down the hall, Maggie paused at a small office long enough to hang her coat on a peg just inside the door, and then continued down the hall to the break room.

  Along one side of the room, under the small, dirty, high mounted window, was a well-worn, brown leather couch facing a dark and silent television sitting on a rickety looking cabinet. In the center of the room, between the sofa and TV, was a battered and scarred table with ten comfortable looking chairs around it. At the far end of the room was a door leading outside, the sunlight streaming in through the window causing dust to dance in its beam. The rest of the room was taken up by white metal cabinets, refrigerator, microwave, and a commercial coffee maker sharing space with a sink.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked as she stopped in front of the coffee maker. “I think I’m going to get some coffee to warm up. Aren’t you freezing?”

  “No, but I’ll take a cup if you’re offering.”

  “Boyd Thacker is, was, the riverkeeper for the Siouan River,” she began as she handed Sean a disposable cup, then pulled a large mug from the overhead cabinet with I’m a Coffee Connoisewer lettered on the side. She filled her cup, then stepped aside so Sean could to the same, before adding a healthy helping of creamer to hers.

  “Behind the plant is Lizard Lick Creek, and—”

  “I saw that on the door. Lizard Lick Creek? That’s really the name?” he interrupted with a soft chuckle, filling his cup, and then returning the carafe to the warming plate and stepping back.

  She grinned. He made no move to doctor his coffee so she turned away and led him back down the hall.

  “That’s really the name. We call it LLC for short. Anyway, we discharge into LLC, and then about three miles downstream, it empties into the Siouan. Back in early September, Hurricane Chasity came through here and made a real mess of things.”

  “I remember that. We got a bunch of rain in Boston from it,” he said as he followed her into her office.

  On the wall opposite the window overlooking the parking lot was a large topographic map showing a bunch of lines and symbols leading to the wastewater plant in the center. He paused long enough to glance at the plat, but it didn’t mean much to him. He quickly took in the rest of the room. Maggie’s office was cluttered with stacks of paper and a few plants, but there were very few personal items on display.

  “Have a seat,” she offered when he turned away from the map showing all the lift stations and lines that fed the plant.

  She stepped behind her desk, a brown metal affair that looked like something from the 1950’s, and sat down, wrapping her hands around the cup to warm them.

  “Yeah. Here we got about fourteen inches of rain. Flooded the crap out of us and we had a major hydraulic overload.”

  He settled into one of the supremely uncomfortable guest chairs. The chairs were metal with too straight a back, not enough padding, and were covered in worn rust colored fabric.

  “Which means what?” he asked.

  “Which means we were taking in more water than we could handle. Facilities are designed to handle wastewater loads, not stormwater loads. The pond in the park overflowed its banks and was pouring into one of our largest lift stations. Lift stations are at the lowest point in a given area, so naturally, water flows there. No way we could handle that.”

  Sean nodded in understanding.

  “We service not only Brunswick, but also Tilley and Abbyville. We’re rated for eight million gallons a day, and we can handle fifteen to eighteen in a spike. Our normal volume is between four and five, but during the teeth of the storm we were taking in about twenty-five. We had several pumping stations flood, and we simply couldn’t handle it. To be honest, Chasity kicked the crap out of us. We were without power, running on generators, for a little over three days. Needless to say, we spilled, and spilled a lot.”

  “I assume that means untreated waste got into the water?”

  “Yeah. We don’t know exactly how much because once it started pouring over the sides of the tanks, we had no way to measure it, but we estimated something between fifty and sixty million gallons spilled. All that sewage, along with all the bugs th
at got stirred up, ran into the creek.”

  “You’ve said bugs twice now. I assume you don’t mean actual bugs.”

  She gave him a quick grin. “Not insects, no. Bugs is what we call the bacteria that breaks down the waste.”

  “Got it. Sixty million gallons sounds like a lot.”

  “It is a lot. We lost so many bugs we had a real problem for a month or so afterwards because the bacteria population was so depleted the plant wasn’t operating efficiently. We had to keep sending the waste back through the system until the bacteria population could grow enough for the plant to start working properly again.”

  “What does this have to do with Thacker?”

  She gave him another grin and took a sip from her cup. “I’m getting to that. You said start at the beginning.”

  He grinned and nodded once in acknowledgement. “So I did. Sorry.”

  “No problem. The same bacterial process we use here in the plant occurs naturally, just not as fast. When you dump a lot of nutrients into the water, and that’s all this stuff is, nutrients, the bacteria multiply and that sucks all the oxygen out of the water. That’s why we aerate the water, to inject oxygen into it so the bugs can do their work. In the wild that doesn’t happen and the oxygen gets so low all kinds of bad things start to happen. Fish kills are the most obvious. We reported the spill to the state, just like we were supposed to, but we made the news because of it. Boyd Thacker got involved, and what would have been nothing but a normal reporting event got blown all out of proportion.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked before taking a pull from his own cup.

  She sighed and took another sip herself. “There have been fish kills on this part of the Siouan off and on for years. Nobody knows why, though the best guess is that it’s caused by runoff from local farms. There’s a guy up stream of us who raises horses and a few cows, not to mention all the farmers that fertilize. That’s another source of nutrients. Rain washes the animal dung and fertilizer into the river, the bugs have a field day, and then you have a low-level fish kill. Anyway, when it was reported we had such a large spill, he, Boyd I mean, was all over it, blaming Brunswick for all the other fish kills. Never mind most of the wastewater plants in the path of Chasity had major spills, and never mind there were no kills as the result of it. None of that mattered. He had a target, and he was milking it for all it was worth.”