Spotted at the Pemberton Music Festival: fortune-cookie-grade words of wisdom, from a movie made half a decade before most of the festival patrons were born.
Sparky's Funtime Summertime Murder Mystery
Chapter Fourteen
Sparky here. This is Chapter Fourteen of my story about how Gerry Ringbold met his untimely end. The story starts here.
The rumours burning with California brush fire intensity around the Gardens were not all false. Once she turned her fervid pre-med-educated attention to Gerry Ringbold, Marriba said a few things that, after I fact checked them, rang true.
"The man is as pink as a scalded piglet, wearing long sleeves in hot weather even though he is obviously overheated and when he bares his skin he has zinc or some other substance applied to his skin to block the sun. Clear signs of Smith-Lemil-Opitz syndrome. Extreme photosensitivity. Possibly a root to the vampire myth: people who redden and blister on exposure to sunlight."
And ...
"Chagas disease. I have seen it. My father was on a medical mission to Mexico where thousands lived with the condition until it killed them young. Ringbold was infected. He may have been bitten by a disease-carrying bug on a lovely vacation. He certainly drank and probably did drugs. He was fat and did not eat the right food or exercise. He had a weak, sick heart."
I also came to believe at least one thing Jennifer said.
She came in one day shortly after Gerry's death as upset as I'd ever seen her.
"Man, these people should be arrested," she said.
"Arrested? What are you talking about?"
"Look, little sister, this isn't something everyone knows about, but I was raised in the woods and I know these things."
"OK," I said, my tone set to 'I completely believe you,' "What do you know?"
"There's a killer plant growing in the garden. They're giant wild carrots and they have sap that will burn you and blind you. When I was on the res, I saw deer nibble on them and drop dead!"
Jennifer was lying about the deer, and bordering on nonsense with the bit about the carrot, but, I checked, and there is a poisonous plant called giant hog weed. It grows to great heights and, back in the day, people who did not yet worry about things like invasive species planted them as showy monstrosities in their gardens. Every web site I looked at warned about exposure to the sap, which could cause blistered burns.
I searched the Garden after my shift to see if I could find any giant hog weed, which looked like a super-sized version of Queen Anne's Lace. But I couldn't find any. The next day I asked Jennifer where she'd seen the plant.
"Oh, they're gone now. Cut down weeks ago."
Pissed off that once again I had let myself be suckered by Jennifer, my next question was a bit short.
"And who should be arrested?"
"The guy who cut it down, Dubs."
"Why?"
"Because he used it to kill Gerry."
This was Jennifer's third version of how she knew Gerry had been killed by Cornwall Dubbins, so I gave up on her. I waited until five o'clock to ask Carol when she came by for a chat.
I had a web site on hog weed up on my lap top when Carol came in. She noticed right away.
"What's the interest in giant hog weed?"
"Jennifer says it used to grow in the Garden and that someone used the sap to kill Gerry Ringbold."
Carol half laughed, half snorted. "That's ridiculous."
"Which? That it grew in the Garden or that it could kill someone?"
Carol paused before she answered. "Both," she said.
Looking like she wanted to change the subject, her eyes fell on some printouts on the desk.
"What're these?"
"I'm doing some research on Peony MacDonald and Gerry Ringbold. This could be my breakthrough story."
I had told Carol many times about my plans for my life. She gave me a big smile.
"What do you want to know about them?"
"Everything! What do you know?"
"A thing or two," she said. "I grew up in Pea's house. And Gerry Ringbold was my half-nephew."
You can read Chapter Fifteen here.
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