Scratchgravel Road: A Mystery

by Tricia Fields

  “Not a one. He wasn’t unfriendly, but he just didn’t make friends. You get my meaning?”

  Frustrated, she stirred her tea and watched the sugar at the bottom of the glass. “What was your job at the plant?”

  “Same as Santiago. Safe cleanup. That’s what the bosses called it.”

  She nodded. “What made you leave?”

  “They found me out. Fired me.”

  She laughed at his abrupt answer. “Fired?”

  “Walked me to a room, took my clothes and boots. I tried to keep my Geiger counter for a souvenir but they caught me. They kicked my ass all the way to the parking lot. Gave me a personal escort.”

  “What did you do?”

  A conspiratorial grin lit up his face. “Sabatoge.”

  Josie was shocked, but only mildly. She smiled at his grin. She could never keep a poker face with Sauly. “How so?”

  “They were cooking soup.”

  “What’s soup?”

  “Nuclear soup. That’s what we called it. The chemicals were in big silver vats and we always said they were cooking the soup.”

  “I thought you were working cleanup?”

  “New soup. Blow-up-the-world stuff. I knew nobody would listen to me. So I pissed in the soup,” he said.

  “Literally?”

  He gave her a look as if she should have known better. “Figuratively.”

  Josie decided not to pursue the sabotage line of questioning. Some things she preferred not know.

  “What made you think they were making new stuff?” she asked.

  “You need to mix chemicals to tear a building down?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I never worked at a nuclear plant.”

  “The answer’s no.”

  “Who was doing it?”

  “Beacon! The cleanup company.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t something legitimate? I talked with Diego Paiva this week.”

  Sauly rolled his eyes, obviously not impressed.

  She continued. “He said they’re combining waste product with glass, melting it down, and making new material where the nuclear waste can be stored while the radioactivity wears off.”

  Sauly ignored her explanation. “I’ll tell you a secret. Guess who blew the whistle to the EPA?”

  She looked at him skeptically. “You mean the Nuclear Regulatory Commission?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “I thought it was the group of women from Artemis. The ones who first suspected the higher cancer rates.”

  He grinned widely. “That’s what they want you to think. Beacon blew the whistle. They go around the country scouting out old sites, getting their numbers in order. Then they feed a bunch of green-loving mamas some figures and coach them how to file a lawsuit.” He threw his hands in the air. “Wha-la! The government knows they have to clean up the mess before they get hammered with another lawsuit. Pretty soon, Beacon has a new multimillion-dollar contract.”

  Josie shook her head. “Is this Sauly theory, or do you have something to back this up?”

  “Dig around on the Internet. You’ll find it all.”

  Josie turned her line of questions back to the reason for her visit. “So, you were in the room where they were cooking the new soup?”

  “They caught me there twice. Second time they fired me.”

  “You didn’t have clearance to be there?”

  “Nope.”

  “Seems reasonable, then, that you got fired.”

  “I never said it wasn’t. I didn’t really need the money anyway,” Sauly said.

  “Did you ever see anyone hurt working there?”

  He rubbed his head again and considered her question. “Not that I can remember.”

  “No one ever got radiation poisoning from working with the chemicals?”

  Sauly turned his chair away from the table and stuck his legs and arms out in front of him and studied them. “I think I got a green glow at night, but that’s about it.”

  * * *

  Sauly sent Josie off with a loaf of zucchini bread he pulled out of his freezer. She sat in her jeep in his driveway and called Lou on her cell phone to check in.

  “Cowan called,” Lou said. “He wants to meet with you, Otto, and the county health nurse today. I already scheduled you all at the Trauma Center at three o’clock.”

  “That’s perfect. Thanks, Lou.”

  “Otto and I got a lead on Santiago’s family. Otto’s running it down.”

  Josie could hear Otto talking in the background and Lou finally put him on the phone.

  “I need sustenance. I haven’t had a Coke all day. How about the Hot Tamale?”

  “I need to run by Dillon’s office first. I’ll meet you in thirty minutes.”

  Josie drove back into town with the radio off, trying to sift through the details. It wasn’t the information she expected to get from Sauly, but then again, it rarely was with him.

  She pulled her jeep up to the curb in front of the office of Abacus and left her car running. She entered the office and found Miss Christina Handley sitting at her desk looking radiant in a silky white shirt and cream-colored skirt. She smiled broadly and said how nice it was to see Josie again. If Dillon’s secretary was the least bit uppity Josie could have hated her, but she seemed genuinely kind. And, Dillon claimed she was an excellent secretary, which did nothing to help Josie’s struggle with the lovely Miss Handley.

  “I need to talk with Dillon for a few minutes if he’s available.”

  Christina winked. “Certainly.” After a momentary quiet conversation into her headset she motioned Josie back to his office.

  Dillon stood from his desk as she entered. He raised his arms over his head and leaned back, groaning and stretching. He wore his standard attire: khaki pants, starched button-down blue shirt, and conservative yellow-and-blue-striped tie. His hair had been freshly trimmed and his face was clean shaven.

  “I need a masseuse,” he said, and flashed her a smile. He came around the desk and kissed her, then pulled back and asked, “Did you come to buy me lunch?”

  “No, but Otto would. He’s at the Hot Tamale waiting on me.”

  “Actually, I already ate. Christina brought me in homemade lasagna and fresh-baked bread for lunch today. She’s serving the tiramisu later this afternoon.”

  Josie felt the hair on her arms stand on end. “You’re lying to me, aren’t you?”

  He smiled. “I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich I brought from home.”

  She smiled. “I could make you some soup for supper tonight.”

  “How about you come to my place? I’ll cook this time.”

  “Deal.”

  “Now, I assume you want something other than dinner,” he said.

  She sat down in the chair in front of his desk, he resumed his seat, and she filled him in on the Santiago murder.

  “I’m hoping you can dig around and find out some information on Beacon. See what their reputation is, how solvent the company is, that kind of thing.”

  “Sure, I can do that.” He narrowed his eyes and considered her for a moment. “Don’t consultants usually get paid for working with police departments?”

  She smirked. “What fantasy cop show have you been watching?”

  He grinned and nodded his head. “Then we’ll negotiate. I’m cooking dinner, and offering free consulting services. What will you be providing?”

  Josie gave her best sleazy grin. “I’ve been staying up late sewing my lingerie apron. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll model it tonight.”

  * * *

  The Hot Tamale was raucous. The returning rain, coupled with the forecast for more, and a flood level that would not peak for several days, had the regulars on a manic high waiting for the next disaster.

  West Texans had a complicated relationship with rain. Many a person spent time on their knees praying for rain for months on end, and after a few days of thanksgiving, flipped to prayers for the rain to cease. Josie couldn�
�t think of anything else that was so desperately needed, worshiped, feared, and loathed as desert rain.

  Otto had wangled their favorite table in the front of the diner. By the time Josie stopped to chat with a few patrons along the way and made it to the table, Sarah had left two Cokes and moved on to the next group.

  “What’s up?” Josie asked. She felt fairly good from a productive day, coupled with dinner plans that didn’t involve cooking.

  “Good news. Sort of. Lou tracked down Santiago’s family. I spoke with his wife. I explained that we suspect her husband was killed. Her English was sketchy, but her daughter was there. I spoke to her as well.”

  “How did they take it?”

  “They were shocked. They had already begun to think something was wrong because he hadn’t called. His wife sobbed in the background as I talked to his daughter.”

  “You get anything new?” she asked.

  “Santiago was married with four kids. Lived in Chiapas. Took his wife his paycheck each month to pay off a parcel of land in Central Mexico. A safe place where they could move their family. His wife said Santiago’s dream was to raise the grandkids with no fear.” Otto sipped his Coke and looked at Josie, his expression discouraged.

  “Would she talk to you about his medical records?”

  “She spoke Spanish and I could only understand about half of what she said,” Otto said. “Her daughter said her father was in great health. She said she was certain he hadn’t been receiving chemo, because he had no health insurance.”

  Otto frowned and leaned back as Sarah placed a bologna sandwich in front of him. She reached across the table to set a cold tamale and chips in front of Josie.

  “How’s it going, Sarah?” Josie asked.

  “It’s okay.”

  “You mind if I ask you a question about Juan Santiago?”

  She looked surprised. “No, go ahead.”

  “I just wonder what your take on him is?”

  Sarah shrugged, looking confused by the question.

  “All we’ve been able to figure out is that he’s quiet.”

  She smiled. “That’s pretty much it.”

  “Quiet because he had no social skills? Maybe he was shy?” Josie asked.

  Sarah narrowed her eyes and looked skeptical. “I don’t think that was it. Brent drove him to work every day. And he still didn’t talk! We even invited him over to dinner a couple times. He always said no.” She tilted her head. “I hate to say this, but he just wasn’t very friendly.”

  “Why did Brent drive him?”

  “Juan didn’t have a car. He used to have an old beater, but it basically died. Brent offered to help him out, and Juan never replaced his car! He said he was going to a few times, but he was saving his money. He took a bus home to visit his family each month.”

  “How’s Brent taking all this?” Josie asked.

  She shook her head. “He’s not doing so good. He’s taking it really hard. He stayed home from work today. I can’t hardly get him to talk.”

  Josie glanced at Otto and leaned back in her seat. “I’d like to talk to one of Juan’s coworkers about the plant. How about we stop by and talk to Brent today?”

  Sarah lifted a shoulder, a helpless gesture. “Sure. Maybe talking it through will help.”

  Josie sipped at her drink as Sarah walked off. “I don’t know where else we go with this. We can’t go barging into the Feed Plant with nothing to tie the dead body to their operation.”

  “And what would we even look for?” he said.

  “I don’t know whether I hope there’s a connection between the sores and his death, or whether I dread it.”

  “How about you? Sauly enlighten you?” he asked.

  “As always. He claims Beacon is loaded. Their operation works like this—they find old nuclear plants. Then they convince a group of citizens—Sauly says women—that their town is contaminated and they need to file a lawsuit to make the government clean it up. Beacon lowballs a bid, gets hired, then a few years later requests more time and money from the government. Milks the contract for every drop it can get.”

  Otto smirked. “And the government is so happy to avoid a lawsuit they roll over belly-up. Beacon gets whatever it wants.”

  “Sauly’s got life figured out,” she said. “He should run for mayor.”

  Otto grinned. “You could be his campaign director.”

  * * *

  Josie arrived back at the station at two thirty and finished up a case report from a drunk-driving incident and stood to stretch. She walked to the window at the back of the office and stared at the continuing rain. A small clock radio on Otto’s desk played softly. They had both spent the afternoon listening to frequent updates about the flooding along the West Texas border. Mexico had received the most damage, but Presidio was evacuating all along the river. Sandbagging crews were working around the clock in Artemis. If the rain kept up as predicted, there was a chance Artemis would need to begin evacuations by week’s end.

  “You about ready?” Josie asked.

  Otto looked up from his computer and glanced at his watch. “Day’s flying. You driving?”

  Josie borrowed Lou’s umbrella to avoid the downpour, unlocked her jeep, and let Otto in the passenger door. She drove south two blocks to the Arroyo County Health Department—a brick ranch-style building that was located in the same structure as the Trauma Center.

  The health department entrance led into a large fluorescent-lit room with rows of blue plastic chairs and low coffee tables covered with magazines, puzzles, and Legos. Several young mothers sat with small children in the plastic seats, most likely waiting for the free immunizations, the department’s primary purpose in town. They stared openly at Josie and Otto as they approached the receptionist who sat behind a glass window with a sign-in clipboard.

  Otto spoke to the lady behind the counter like an old friend. She was in her fifties, a cheery woman with a short haircut that accentuated big brown eyes and a flashy smile. Josie didn’t know her and remained behind Otto while they laughed about some event that had taken place at the Kiwanis meeting. The woman finally led them through a door and down a hallway and into a small office with a sign that read SHEILA MAGNUS—COUNTY HEALTH NURSE. The receptionist sat them both at a small round table and offered coffee and soft drinks before going back to her post. The door shut and a shriek rang out from an examination room down the hall. It sounded like a young child in serious distress.

  Otto smirked. “They don’t make kids like they used to.”

  Josie nodded. “They’re not tough like we were.”

  A few minutes later, a harried middle-aged woman walked into the room, smiling and chattering, patting them both on the back before sitting across from them at the table.

  “You have to quit beating the little ones,” Otto said.

  She laughed, her eyes still wide from the incident. “That little bugger tried to bite me! I gave him a shot in the butt and he went for my leg!”

  Sheila wore a nurse’s white top, pants, and shoes. Her wavy black hair and deep tan looked even darker against the stark white of her uniform. Josie had known her for years and had worked with her on several domestic and child abuse cases. She was a high-energy, conscientious worker whom Josie respected and liked.

  Sheila sat down at the table. “Mitchell called and said he’s hung up at the coroner’s office. He’ll be here in about fifteen minutes.”

  Josie nodded. “That will give me time to give you some background. I assume you’ve heard about the Santiago murder? The body found in the desert this past week?” Josie asked.

  She nodded. “It’s horrible. I heard the illegal crossing theory’s already been shot down. Any leads?”

  Josie tipped her head. “It’s gotten complicated. We’re coming to you with confidential information today.” She paused.

  “I understand.”

  “We have a male, name is Juan Santiago. He’s in his forties, but we’re still struggling with cause of death.
He had multiple open wounds on both his arms. We’re leaning toward some kind of radiation poisoning.”

  She pulled her head back and frowned in surprise. “You think he was over-radiated?”

  “Not from a hospital. He worked at the Feed Plant. He was on the cleanup crew.”

  Sheila grimaced. “The old nuclear weapons plant?”

  “We’re concerned he may have been poisoned at the plant, but it’s all conjecture,” Josie said.

  “Have you had any community members with strange wounds, or ailments that you can’t explain?” Otto asked.

  “Honey, people would be amazed at some of the strange things that can’t be explained in here. But, outside of one patient, I haven’t had any kind of sores like you’re describing.” She stood from the table and pulled a manila folder out of a filing cabinet behind her desk. She sat down and rifled through the folder and laid a photograph in between Josie and Otto. “Is this what you’re referring to?”

  They both nodded. Josie was certain they were looking at Juan Santiago’s arms in the picture. She also knew HIPPA laws would prevent Sheila from confirming Santiago’s identity.

  Josie glanced at the photo and asked, “Can you tell me when this patient was seen?”

  Sheila looked at the folder again. “The patient came in last Wednesday afternoon. I dressed his wounds and asked him to come back on Friday to let me reexamine him. I hoped to see him again, but you never know.”

  “Why not?” Otto asked.

  She laid the folder down and crossed her arms on the table in front of her. “We see some people on a weekly, almost daily basis. Some of them are old and don’t have any other contact with people. Some are lonely or social misfits. They just need to interact with people. Then there’s the other side of the spectrum. There’s a group of people who so mistrust us that they would choose death over receiving proper care. They associate us with the government, and they figure we’re out to get them.” She lifted both shoulders and turned her palms up. “What can you do?”

  “Obviously the patient we’re referring to was in the second group,” Josie said.

  “Hard to say. He was very nervous. I tried to reassure him. Tried to make him feel comfortable, but it didn’t work. It was as if he thought the police would bust in the doors at any minute to cart him off to jail.”