Chapter 17. Mercy and Mercury

WHITNEY

On Tuesday evening, Collin met Buck and me in the parking lot of the chapel where Joanna Hartzell's memorial service would be held. He parked in a spot next to Lane's tow truck, and slid out of his car. He quickly caught us up on the day's developments. "The prosecutor, Landreth, and I met with Peter Bottiglieri today. He claims Judith had her grandson torch the fire station."

Buck cocked his head. "Judith admitted it to Peter?"

"No," Collin said. "It's conjecture on Peter's part, but I think he's probably right. Judith wouldn't say anything other than ‘prove it,' when we went to her door. We went to talk to her grandson next. He's sixteen and a total punk. He kept saying he didn't know anything, but he was smirking the entire time. He seems to know we've got nothing on him. The kid was smart enough not to leave prints, which tells me he's not new to crime."

I couldn't imagine a grandmother encouraging her grandson to commit a crime, especially a felony, but the Bottiglieris had acted in all sorts of ways that I found unimaginable.

"Landreth's going to keep an eye on the kid," Collin said. "She'll track his social media to see if he brags about getting away with a crime, talk with some of his friends. But unless she gets a break, the crime could go unpunished."

It wouldn't go totally unpunished, of course. The six Bottiglieris would lose the additional five-hundred dollars we had planned to pay them to put them on par with John. But the punishment seemed small compared to the crime. They'd cost us two grand in the form of our insurance deductible, not to mention the value of our lost time. I could only hope that karma would come around and bite them in the butt.

I wondered whether Peter had gotten off light. "Did the DA give Peter a plea deal?"

Collin nodded, his expression sour. "He'll have to complete ten hours of community service, but that's all."

"What about our cost for painting over the graffiti? Shouldn't he have to pay restitution for the paint and supplies?"

Collin's expression soured further. "Peter argued he didn't cost you anything since you and Buck planned to repaint the walls anyway."

Though Peter had a valid point, I gritted my teeth in frustration. Justice had not been done, in my opinion, but sometimes that's just the way it goes. Life isn't fair.

The other attendees had gone inside already and, after checking my watch and seeing that only two minutes remained before Joanna's memorial service was to start, I suggested we go in. Flowers filled the chapel with a sweet fragrance, and soft, solemn music met our ears. After I placed the peace lily among the other arrangements that flanked the podium, we took seats in a row behind all the others. Macy, Holden, Alyssa, and Lane sat in the front row. Gideon sat next to Macy. Samira, D-Jay, and Kavish sat in the second row. Various other people we didn't know sat on the benches, some by themselves, others with family or friends. The three umarells sat in the fourth row. Though they'd been neighbors of Joanna's, my guess was they were here more for the purpose of critiquing the service than paying respects to the deceased. To my surprise, Mary Ruth and Tabitha Bottiglieri were in attendance. They cast narrow-eyed glances back at Buck and me. Mary Ruth dug in her purse with both hands and, though she didn't pull out her phone, appeared to be sending a surreptitious text. Could she be alerting her siblings that Buck and I were here? If so, to what end?

The officiant opened with a prayer and said some preliminary words about Joanna, then invited Macy to deliver the eulogy. She was remarkably calm and in control as she delivered the speech, which she did from a tall stool. It was the closest option to bed rest the chapel could offer. While many tended to paint a perfect picture of the deceased in their eulogies, Macy was much more realistic. She looked down at her brother from the raised platform. "Lane knows as well as I do that our mother could be difficult. She was stubborn sometimes, and she didn't hold back when she thought we'd screwed up. But the consolation we find in that—the consolation we've always found—is that it showed she cared, that she wanted the best for us. No matter how much we might have let her down, we never doubted for a second that she loved us with all her heart."

At that, Lane choked out a sob and hung his head. Sitting next to her uncle, Alyssa raised her arm and draped it across his shoulders to comfort him. A bandage remained on her finger. Looked like the splinter was still stuck in her skin.

When Macy finished, Gideon got up and led the group in a recitation of Psalm 23. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

In unison, the rest of us offered an "Amen."

After a brief closing statement, the memorial concluded and the attendees drifted out to the parking lot. Buck, Collin, and I were waiting on the sidewalk to express our final condolences and to ask about Joanna's autopsy when the umarells exited, the trio chatting among themselves. I could only imagine what they were saying. The music was all wrong. They should've used scented candles. Psalm 23:4? That scripture is overused. They should've gone with Isaiah 57:2.

Samira and D-Jay exited the chapel. D-Jay carried a sleeping Kavish in his arms, the boy's head on his father's shoulder. They stopped in front of us.

Samira said, "It was very nice of you to come to the service."

I felt an odd urge to take a step back, put some distance between myself and the couple. "We wanted to pay our respects to the family."

Turning to other matters, Samira said, "I went to the townhouse today to take photographs of the ceiling and to measure the walls."

D-Jay smiled. "She wants to select light fixtures now."

"The door would not open with our code." Samira pinned me with an accusatory gaze that demanded an answer.

My body stiffened. Again, they'd crossed a boundary, trying to go into our townhouse without first asking permission. No more missus nice guy. "The door code has been changed for security purposes." I used passive language to soften the message while still making sure it was received. "Nobody should enter without getting prior permission from me or Buck. We are the owners, after all."

Mary Ruth and Tabitha exited the chapel and headed up the walkway toward us.

"But you plan to sell the home." Samira's expression and tone were irritated. "We want to buy it. We have told you that we are making preparations."

I really didn't want to have an argument here, at Joanna's memorial service, but the couple wasn't giving me much choice. "I know you are interested in the place," I said, keeping an eye on the Bottiglieri women while repeating what I'd already told Samira ad nauseam. "But we are going to sell it to the highest bidder."

"Profit!" Samira snapped. "That is all you care about?"

By then, Mary Ruth and Tabitha were upon us and heard Samira's accusation.

"You got that right!" Mary Ruth snapped, wagging her finger to indicate Buck and me. "These two are greedy, greedy, greedy!"

"You still owe us." Tabitha gave me a cold stare that said things weren't over.

As the Bottiglieri sisters headed off, the heat of anger warmed my cheeks. Samira's turned pink as well. Seeming to realize his wife had taken things too far, D-Jay took one hand off his son's back to put it on his wife's. "We can discuss the townhouse another time." He gave me a polite nod and guided her away.

As soon as they were out of earshot, I turned to Buck. "The Bottiglieris have been bad enough without Samira getting on my last nerve, too."

"Don't blame her," Buck said. "Blame that baby in her belly."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She's probably nesting."

"Nesting?"

"It's something pregnant women do. They get what's called a nesting instinct. It's an urge to prepare their home for their baby. Colette's got it something fierce. She's cleaned and organized like a mad woman. You should see our place. It's spotless. She threw out any of my socks that didn't have a match, and had me clean the carpets—twice. 'Course I had to put my foot down when she tried to organize the garage."

Knowing my friend, I said, "I bet that didn't go well."

"It did not. But a man's got to have his own space."

I turned to Collin and cocked my head, acting coy. "Will you need your own space when you move in with me after we're married?" I pursed my lips and squinted, giving him a flinty glare in jest.

He played along, jerking his head to indicate Buck. "You heard him. A man's got to have his own space."

We ended our exchange when Lane walked out of the chapel alone, looking lonely and defeated. He tugged a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his dress shirt, a pack that was green and white, with a gold stripe. I recognized them as Newports, the same brand Joanna had smoked. He shook one out and slid it back into his pocket. He retrieved a lighter from his pants pocket and lit up, returning the device to his pocket as he approached.

Feeling the need to say something to the bereaved man, I offered, "The service was beautiful."

"Thanks." He took a deep drag on his cigarette, his cheeks forming hollows, and shook his head, as if in disbelief. He held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds, then shot the stream of gray air sideways out the corner of his mouth. Staring at the smoke as it dissipated, he mused aloud. "It's funny how life goes. If someone had told me back when I was a kid that Gideon would be reading a poem at my mother's funeral, I would've asked them what they'd been smoking."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "They've been friends a long time, haven't they?"

"They have," Lane agreed, "but it didn't start out that way. When Gideon and his partner moved into the neighborhood, my mother had a fit. ‘There goes the neighborhood!'" he cried in a mocking tone, waving jazz hands at his shoulders. "‘It'll only be a matter of time until the gays take over!'" He lowered his hands and took another drag on his cigarette, releasing small bursts of smoke as he chuckled. "Mom told us to steer clear of them. Of course, things changed after Dad died. Over time, Mom and Gideon became best friends. It was nice to see Mom grow." His shoulders shook as he inhaled, then released, a shaky breath. "I suppose we all live and learn, huh?"

It was true. Even so, it was a shame Joanna hadn't had the chance to live longer, to learn more and grow more.

Lane took another puff on his cigarette, and flicked the ashes to the asphalt. "Gideon is far from my biggest fan, but I suppose I can't blame him. He was only protecting his friend. I only wish I could've shown my mother how far I've come. I wish she'd lived to see me get my life together. I'm not totally there yet, but I'm on my way." Seeming to realize he'd spilled his guts to virtual strangers, he stood straighter, looking a little sheepish. "That was heavy, wasn't it? I suppose I forgot I wasn't at group."

Macy, Holden, and Alyssa emerged from the chapel, Gideon trailing along behind them. Macy stopped near us and turned to Gideon. "Thanks for doing the reading, Gideon. We'll see you soon, okay?"

Her words were clearly meant to dismiss him. He cast a glance at Lane, Collin, Buck, and me. Do I detect a hint of anxiety? Annoyance? Rejection, maybe? Some sort of emotion was in his eyes, though I couldn't immediately identify it. "All right," he said, acquiescing. He continued on to the parking lot.

Once Gideon had gone, Lane turned to Macy. "That was a nice eulogy you gave Mom."

She responded with a curt "Thanks."

He hesitated a moment, seeming to appraise his sister. "Hey, I was thinking. The apartment I'm living in now leaves a lot to be desired. What if I move back into my bedroom at Mom's place for a few months? I could save up some cash and upgrade to a nicer apartment once we get past Christmas. Y'all don't need all three upstairs bedrooms, and I'd pay my fair share of the electric and water bills. What would you think about that?"

"What would I think about that?" Macy repeated, her brows lifting, her tone incredulous. "I'd think you have no right asking me to help you when you left me to pick up the pieces after you started using. Mom and I hardly saw you for years. Years, Lane! We had no idea where you were sometimes, or if you were even still alive. When you did show up, you were a mess and only made things worse. Mom was torn up over it. Did you ever stop to think how hard that was for me? How it affected my life? My family?"

"I'm sorry, Macy." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I know I wrecked things. If there was a way I could make up for it, I would."

Tears filled Macy's eyes, and she gnawed at her lip, torn. "I love you, Lane. I never stopped, and I'm trying to forgive you. I really am. It's just going to take some time. I don't think you moving in with us now is a good idea."

He dipped his head in resignation. "Understood." He stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug. She tensed at first, but then relaxed and closed her eyes, hugging him back. "For what it's worth," he said, still holding her tight, "I don't blame you one bit. But I promise I'll work to make amends in any way I can." He released her and stepped back. "Y'all take care." With that, he headed off, aiming for his tow truck.

Holden put a supportive hand on her shoulder. "I know that was hard, Macy, but it was the right thing to do."

"I hope so." Macy swiped a tear from her eye, gathered herself together, and straightened. She eyed Collin, Buck, and me, her cheeks pink. "Families. Am I right?"

"You're telling me." Buck hiked a thumb my way. "I gotta put up with this pain in the butt."

All of us shared a laugh, breaking the tension.

Macy looked me in the eye. "The pathologist issued my mother's autopsy report. You were right, Whitney. My mother didn't die of an aneurysm. She died of mercury poisoning."

I now realized why she hadn't wanted to discuss the matter in front of Gideon. She didn't want him to know that he'd inadvertently poisoned his best friend. "It was the seafood, after all?"

"Actually, no." She went on to explain that the type of mercury poisoning people got from eating seafood involved a form of mercury called methylmercury, which differed from elemental, or metallic, mercury. "The pathologist explained it to us. When mercury gets into a water source, microorganisms in the sediment transform it into methylmercury." Fish then ingested the methylmercury through their mouths as they ate or through their gills as they swam about. "The doctor said that methylmercury is also used to preserve grain that is fed to farm animals, so sometimes humans ingest it that way. He said it takes weeks or months for symptoms from methylmercury poisoning to appear, but that poisoning from elemental mercury is more immediate."

"I hadn't realized there was a distinction between the types of mercury."

Macy went on to tell us that methylmercury will show up in blood tests, but that elemental mercury normally leaves the blood quickly and moves into the kidneys and brain. "Because Mom died so quickly after her exposure, the mercury was still detectable in her blood. If the doctor at urgent care had tested my mother's blood for mercury, she could've been treated with activated charcoal or dialysis, or the chelation therapy that we talked about on Saturday. She could still be alive."

From the way she spoke, it looked like Macy was still thinking about pursuing a malpractice case. I doubted it was routine to check for mercury in light of the fact that Joanna's symptoms could be indicative of any number of run-of-the-mill health problems, but I wasn't a medical expert. Regardless, the situation begged the question, "How would elemental mercury have gotten into Joanna's system?"

"We have no idea," Macy said. "Gideon's at her house all the time and he's fine, so we think she probably got exposed somewhere she went on her own. She still had friends from her factory days who she goes to visit. She might've picked something up when she went to see one of them. But we're not taking any chances. I've ordered a testing kit online to check for mercury in the water at my mother's house. One for the air, too. We have to let that one sit for a while, then mail it to the testing center. It takes seventy-two hours to get the results once it's submitted." She cast a grateful glance at her husband. "Holden threw out all of her remaining food, whether it was expired or not. He got rid of her fluorescent bulbs, too. The doctor mentioned that they contain mercury. I don't want to risk my baby's health. We're going to stay in our unit in Gideon's building until we get the results back. We'd already paid rent through the end of the month, and he hasn't found a new tenant yet."

Buck and I had lost a full day of work moving the Griffins on Saturday, and we could scarcely afford to lose another, but how could I not offer to help under the circumstances? "Would you like us to move your furniture back across the street?"

"No need," she said. "We bought a couple of cheap memory foam mattresses and new bedding. We can make do with that until we know my mother's place is safe. But thank you for offering."

With that, the family bade us goodbye. Collin, Buck, and I returned to our cars and headed our separate ways, as well.