Bury! The Lead

by Shelley Dawn Siddall

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much white in my life!” Crystal said to the receptionist.

  He gave a strained smile. “Do you have an appointment?”

  Crystal didn’t hear; she had wandered over to a painting on the wall. It was five dabs of black on an otherwise naked canvas. It was called ‘perfectly imperfect’. Crystal touched the canvas. It literally had no paint on it. “Totally clean except for a few marks. Yeah; the title makes sense I suppose.” The painting beside it had one small black square in the right hand corner. Crystal covered the descriptive label and tried to guess what the painting was called.

  “Thinking outside of the box,” she guessed. She removed her hand and read the title.

  “Potential. Hmmm; I can see it; if you think outside of this little box you have all this untapped potential!”

  “You get it! You’re the first person to really get Gloria’s art.” The receptionist had left his desk and was standing beside Crystal.

  She jumped. “Man, you have little cat feet; I did not hear you at all!”

  “Sorry. I just love Gloria’s work; but so many people are confused by it. It’s so experimental yet so real. It just touches you at your core.”

  “Sure. Is she here today?”

  The receptionist, who had his own little descriptive label that named him ‘Byron’, reverted to his original snootiness. “Maybe.” He looked pointedly at the bike clips around Crystal’s ankles that cinched in her jeans. “How do you know her?”

  Crystal reached down and removed her clips. “I guess that does look pretty goofy. I’m Crystal Schmidt. I know Gloria from that place she was staying at recently; you know, the place where she found women to act as cheerleaders? The women that held up the signs in court?”

  “Ah right; so you know about that. Yes Gloria is here today. She’s in their office on the sixth floor. It's also their home; so I can't let just anybody up. What is the nature of your business?”

  “Byron, I shouldn’t really be telling you this, because what I’m about to say is completely confidential; but as you are a fellow art lover…”

  Byron leaned in close and clasped his hands with anticipation.

  Crystal continued, “I’m involved in undercover work for a business I can’t name or my cover would be blown. Let’s just say, I recently learned a little something about the Fielding’s trucking company and the expeditions to the gambling hot spots to say nothing of the, shall we say, sprockets that they make?”

  “Undercover? You want to give your report directly to the Fieldings then? I understand.” Byron started to wiggle a little bit. “This is too exciting. Do you ever need to phone in a report because I can be discreet!”

  Crystal was trying not to laugh. She had told the truth; she had just learned a little something; she knew the Fieldings had trucks. But because she used a conspiratorial tone of voice Byron now thought she was some sort of private investigator. Which, in a way, she was.

  “I may have to phone in a report, now that you mention it. If this assignment I’m currently on goes the way we hope, I may not be able to report in person.”

  Byron handed her a card. It read “Byron Hansen, Executive Assistant Fielding Industries” and had a phone number embossed in gold across the bottom. “This is my private line; you can phone me directly.”

  Crystal crossed her arms and rubbed her jaw. “Can I give you a code, so you’ll know it’s me, Crystal, the uh, undercover operative, when I phone in my report? Can I trust you to give that report straight to the Fieldings?”

  “Of course! You can trust me!”

  “Now don’t write this down; memorize it. The code for this month will be ‘Mrs. Prescott bakes dinosaurs in her pies’. Have you got that?”

  Byron nodded. “Mrs. Prescott bakes dinosaurs in her pies.”

  Crystal nodded and decided she didn’t want to walk up six flights of stairs, so she entered the elevator.

  “Here we go!” she said pressed the button for the sixth floor.

  When the elevator doors opened, Crystal realized that the entire sixth floor was not only the Fieldings office, but was truly their home, just as Byron had said. Glass walls separated the offices, a kitchen, living rooms, even bedrooms. Fortunately the bathrooms were not visible.

  “Talk about living in glass houses!”

  Winston and Gloria were sitting in an office; each with a wide lowball glass in their hand.

  Winston shifted slightly as he looked around Gloria. “Byron let you up for some ungodly reason; we’re busy; go home,” he said and continued his conversation with Gloria.

  Crystal had been dismissed.

  She thought about the poem her mom had inspired her with; there was an important job to be done; anybody could have done it. Well, she was anybody, wasn’t she? Crystal pressed the record button on the Dictaphone in her jeans pocket and walked forward.

  “Hi Folks! Sorry to interrupt your afternoon…um, cocktail?” Crystal cringed inside; surely Gloria wasn’t drinking? Crystal said in a rush, “But I’m seeking sponsorship for a charity.”

  Winston barely raised his eyes. “Leave your card.”

  Crystal thought fast. “Maybe we could auction one of your paintings, Mrs. Fielding. I especially like the one entitled ‘potential’. We all think inside a box, don’t we, when there is so much potential outside of our regular routine.”

  Gloria spun around in her chair and looked Crystal up and down with a similar snootiness Byron had displayed moments earlier.

  “I know you; you’re that druggie that was trying to get into Arbutus. I must say, you’re looking better than when I saw you last. Come have a drink and tell me again what you like about my paintings.”

  Crystal walked over, sat down and accepted a drink. She was in a state of disbelief that she had not only made it this far; but that Gloria was drinking. Crystal had hoped it was apple juice in Gloria’s glass; but she could smell the whiskey from where she sat. She sipped her drink and started coughing.

  Both Fieldings laughed at her.

  Crystal choked back another cough as she took a huge slug of the drink. “Your raw canvas with the black smudges; I totally get. It started off clean, perfect. A blank slate quite literally.”

  Gloria smiled. “Just like us when we’re born. And then life happens.”

  “Yes; and we make mistakes and change directions and run into walls. Our experiences all leave marks on us.”

  Gloria opened her eyes wide. “That is exactly what I was thinking when I painted it! The travels we take on this road called life, mark us indelibly but we are still, at our core, perfectly imperfect.” She refilled her drink. “Now what charity are you here for?”

  “It’s a new charity that my mom is starting up; it’s called ‘Cycling for Kids’. All the money raised, one hundred percent, goes to children that have been affected by trauma. It’s a good cause and will help children that are in need whether it is medically, physically or mentally. For my part, I have to raise five hundred dollars to enter and then a per mile sponsorship. In August, we are riding our bikes to Patterson Lake.” Crystal stopped talking as Gloria’s eyes were half-shut. Did she lose interest or was she falling asleep?

  Winston rapped on the desk and startled Gloria. “Gloria my dear, we have a traitor in our midst.” He looked at Crystal. “I thought that name sounded familiar; Scott mentioned that you were investigating the hit and run accident.”

  “You little snoop!” Gloria hissed.

  “I am looking for sponsorship for the charity! I also happen to be the new advice columnist at the paper; I’m not a reporter by any stretch of the imagination.”

  “Yes, that is exactly what Scott said. However, you did find Gloria’s car.” Winston leaned back and spread his arms expansively. “Go ahead, ask us anything you want. What do you need to know?”

  “Maybe she’s seeking advice on how to sweep things under the rug?” Gloria said, oblivious to Winston’s glare. Gloria kept talking. “What notorious thin
g have you done Crystal that you need our help with?” Gloria started cackling at her own joke and spilled some of her drink.

  Crystal took another slug of hers. “Do you ever plan on driving again?”

  Gloria laughed even louder. “Have you seen my car? It’s beautiful; well, now that it’s fixed. Of course I’m going to drive around town and show it off! I bought it; it’s mine; it’s my right!”

  “Oh well; I guess that’s that,” Crystal said. She stood up and carefully placed her empty glass on the desk. She looked through the glass walls at all the empty rooms; empty of people but expensively furnished. Claire could live here, and they wouldn’t even notice, she thought.

  As she continued to stand there she thought of the other women she met in the treatment center. Had people stood back and watched them slide into addiction? How young were they when their lives took a turn for the worse? What if someone had intervened in their life, just when they needed help? Would their life have turned out differently if someone offered help?

  Crystal remembered what she wrote to Claire; there was no time frame to embrace change. It could happen at any time. She sat back down.

  Chapter Twenty

  “So you decided to stay for another drink! Wonderful. We don’t often have company for our afternoon cocktails, do we Winston.” Gloria poured Crystal another drink. “What’s new and exciting in your life?”

  Crystal cleared her throat and held up the heavy glass tumbler. “Are these lead crystal?”

  Gloria snickered. “Of course.”

  “I’ve been looking up stuff about lead poison.”

  Winston choked on his drink, while Gloria frowned. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  Crystal took a drink without coughing. She was finally getting used to the taste. “I was reading a mystery and in the story someone was poisoned by lead. So I wondered how a person would do that.”

  Winston stared, his hand immobile, holding his whiskey halfway to his mouth. “And how would you poison someone with lead?’ he asked.

  “It wouldn’t be that easy,” Crystal advised. “You would somehow have to make the person you wanted dead ingest a large amount of lead, and not notice the taste. In this story, it was the husband who wanted the wife dead, and he worked at it for years, slowly poisoning her food. It was a long gruesome death.”

  Both Fieldings shuddered.

  “It took years?” Winston asked.

  “Of course,” Crystal went on brightly, “There is a quick way to poison someone with lead.”

  “Oh?” said Winston, gulping down the rest of his drink.

  “With a bullet.”

  Winston groaned. “This is a depressing subject. We should talk about happy things!”

  Crystal nodded in agreement. “Yes, happy things. Gloria, you must be happy to be driving your car again?”

  “You bet your ass I am!”

  “So you’re not worried about hitting someone again? You know, as a result of your drinking and driving?”

  “What?” Gloria shook her head. “Really dear, we don’t need to think about worst case scenarios; let’s do what Winston said to do. Let’s chose to be happy!”

  Crystal put her empty glass down on the desk for the second time that afternoon. “I imagine Lisa’s parents want to be happy; but it must be hard because their little girl is dead.”

  “What is with you and this dead child talk? Everyone has been paid; we don’t need to talk about the incident ever again!”

  Crystal pressed the point. “Don’t you think her parents think about the incident every minute of every day of their lives?”

  Gloria slammed her glass down on Winston’s desk. “They should have taken better care of her! Imagine letting a child walk home unattended; that’s poor parenting if I ever saw it!”

  “That’s the point Gloria; you didn’t see it. More to the point, you didn’t see her! You didn’t see little Lisa walking home, supposedly safe on the sidewalk, one block from her home, waving at her mother. No, you were so blitzed on booze and pills that you careened up on the sidewalk and hit her and killed her. You didn’t even stop. You just drove away!” Crystal turned her anger to Winston. “You really trust her to drive again and never injure anyone? How are you contributing to her sobriety because you’re sure not sitting here drinking apple juice with your wife.”

  Winston glared but said nothing. The skin around his jaw grew tighter and tighter.

  Gloria patted her hair back into place and sat up straighter in her chair. “I’m drinking my afternoon whiskey soda with my husband. And tonight with dinner I’ll have my usual glass of white wine and afterwards, perhaps a brandy. People of my stature have these little rituals. Rituals you would know nothing about. Your sort of people probably go milk the cows and then settle in for a night of reading the farmer’s almanac.”

  Winston joined her in her laughter.

  Gloria added, “And you probably spend the night washing out your one pair of underwear and hanging it on the line!”

  Crystal said just loud enough to be heard over their laughter, “How much did you pay those girls to cheer for you at the courthouse?”

  “Far too much!” Gloria yelled, “Winston had all the signs made; all those idiots had to do was wave them. The little bitches started shouting like crazy people.” She tapped the desk in front of her husband. “Winston, we should ask for a refund. They nearly had the judge kick everyone out of the court room and we were banking on a nice photo of poor me to be taken by our reporter.”

  “Your reporter?”

  “Yes darling; we have that Scott fellow in our pocket; bought and paid for.”

  Finally Winston spoke. His color had gone back to normal, but his tone was still smug. “So you see Crystal; we have everything sewn up. There is no story here. Just an unfortunate accident. Go home and do things that all the little people of this city do; go weed your garden or feed you chickens. Bye-bye.”

  Crystal slowly stood up. “How much do I owe you for the drinks?”

  “Free; on the house.” Winston leaned forward. “If you continue to come around here though, the next time you will pay.”

  There was suddenly a click as the Dictaphone ran out of tape and stopped. Crystal started coughing to cover up the sound and made her way to the elevator. With two drinks under her belt in a short period of time, taking the elevator proved to be a nauseating experience, but it was safer than taking the stairs.

  “I could have slipped and cracked my head open and then how would I …” she forgot what she was thinking about.

  Unlocking her bike proved to be a bit of a challenge, but finally it was free.

  “People should never drive drunk,” she carefully enunciated. She started to push her bike in the general direction of home, when she saw Al driving the other way. She waved frantically even after he stopped.

  “Crystal?” he asked curiously, “Are you okay?”

  “I need to go to the newspaper and do something important even though anybody can do it; for once I’m going to be somebody.”

  Matt picked up her bike and put it in the back of his truck. He watched as Crystal carefully climbed into the truck and then saluted him once her seat belt was done up.

  “Are you sure you want to go to the newspaper now, considering the condition your in?” he asked.

  “Oh my god, am I pregnant?” Crystal asked. “No, that’s not right. Whaddaya mean condition I’m in?”

  Matt snickered. “You’re pretty drunk Crystal.”

  “Of course I am; that’s what happens when you have two big drinks in the middle of the day! Did you know that Mr. and Mrs. Fielding are bad people? And…” Crystal emphasized her point ahead of time by slapping the dashboard, “they don’t even have curtains! What sort of people live like that? You know what else, Matt? I don’t think they’re going to sponsor me; not after I play this recording of their lies.” She reached into her pocket to find the Dictaphone but couldn’t find it.

  “Stop!” she s
creamed.

  Matt braked hard just as Crystal checked her other pocket.

  “Never mind,” she said.

  “Crystal, please don’t do that again. You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

  Crystal started to cry. “You can’t have a heart attack before you’re married. Mom would be so mad at me!”

  “That’s it. We’re getting you some coffee.”

  “No Matt; I have to get this story to Ben; it’s verrrry important.” She leaned toward Matt to tell him something confidentially but lost her balance and crashed into his shoulder. With some difficulty, she was able to sit up again. “This is a bumpy road; the city should pave it. I’m going to take thish up with city hall! I’ll do that after Scott gets fired.” Crystal shrugged. “But maybe he won’t get fired. Maybe I will. Maybe Ben thinks…thinks…” She looked at Matt. “I have no idea what Ben thinks; do you?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I think we’re going to find out; we’re here. Wait for me to open the door; don’t move.”

  Crystal managed to keep her balance all the way to the front door which Matt opened for her. She walked in and waved like a maniac to Marjorie.

  “Hi Marjorie; don’t put on your beret yet; you can’t go home until I talk to Ben about you know what and you know who!” Crystal twisted around to see if Scott was at his desk, but she lost her balance and literally fell on Scott’s desk.

  He started to flap his hands. “Get away! You reek of booze.” Marjorie helped Crystal stand up while Scott re-arranged his papers on his desk, checked the bookmark in his science fiction book and then locked the whole works in his briefcase. “Drinking in the middle of the afternoon; what sort of scum of the earth are you!”

  “Well I wasn’t the only one. I had some scummy company; Winston and Gloria Fielding! We sat in their glash, I mean glass castle and had many whiskies and sodas.”