[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Helen wished Cal would disappear. Instead, he droned on
about how Canada was superior to America. Margery didn t
bother debating him, another sign she was not herself. Nor-
mally, she was the purple-clad defender of the USA. Helen
and Sarah struggled to carry on a conversation.
The evening broke up about nine with polite thank-yous.
Sarah gathered up her dishes and left. Margery packed up
the extra buns and chips and put away Peggy s salad. Helen
ate the last deviled egg. Cal took back his two unsliced, un-
touched tomatoes.
Helen had a restless night, but she could not sleep in Sat-
urday morning. She d promised to go with Margery for the
final walk-through at the Coronado before the crew put the
termite tent on. Helen felt like she was visiting a sick friend
in the hospital.
MURDER BETWEEN THE COVERS 51
Truly Nolen was doing the job. In South Florida, their
bright yellow Volkswagen bugs with the mouse ears,
whiskers, and tails were as common as the pests they killed.
When Helen and Margery arrived at the apartments at nine,
a flatbed truck was already there. George and Terrell would
put the monster yellow-and-black-striped tarps on the
building.
George, thin and whiplike, threw the tarps off the truck
and manhandled the long ladders. The tarps were rolled up
like tacos. Also on the trucks were long strings of metal
clamshell clamps, which looked like big spring clothespins.
The tarp ends would be rolled together and clamped shut,
forming a seal. George did most of the roof work. Terrell,
big and muscular, clamped down the building s sides.
Signs were posted all over the Coronado: DANGER:
DEADLY POISON PELIGRO VENENO MORTAL. For those who
could not read, there were skulls and crossbones.
Trevor, the fumigator, was nailing the last sign on the
gate. He was about five-eight, with powerful shoulders and
a strong, square jaw. He d dressed up his drab uniform with
gold chains that gleamed against his dark skin.
Ah, good, he said. Let s do the final inspection.
As they went through each apartment, Helen had a
voyeur s view of how everyone lived. All the cabinets were
open. Helen saw the same things in each apartment: miscel-
laneous mugs, stacks of Tupperware, ugly glass vases from
florists. They had a pathetic garage-sale look.
Trevor checked the refrigerators, cabinets, and stoves for
food. He looked carefully in each room, making sure no
one was left behind. He was obsessive about it.
An old woman hid in her home once because she didn t
want to leave. Poor thing died. Happened to another com-
pany, but it s every fumigator s nightmare. I don t want it to
happen to me.
Trevor moved with assurance through other people s
52 Elaine Viets
homes. Helen and Margery trailed behind him. Helen felt
guilty about snooping, but she also enjoyed it.
Cal the Canadian had furniture for a colder clime: heavy
velvet sofas and chairs, thick carpets, and a coffee table big
as an aircraft carrier. Clothes were dumped on chairs.
Books and newspapers were scattered on the floor. His
rooms seemed small and crowded. Even his fridge door
was cluttered with photos of his daughter and grandchild.
His cupboards and refrigerator were bare of food, and there
were no medicines in the bathroom. Cal s place was safe.
Peggy s home looked light and airy. Bright colors and
white wicker, painted wooden fish, and pretty seashells
made it a pleasant place to live. Her huge four-poster bed
looked like something in a magazine. Helen noticed there
were no photos except for ones of Pete. In the kitchen,
Peggy had left behind a box of birdseed, bananas, and a bag
of rice. Helen packed them up for her friend.
Some people can t follow simple instructions, Margery
grumped.
Peggy must have been distracted, Helen said.
After each apartment was inspected, the door was locked
with the owner s keys. Then the doorknob was fitted with a
metal shield that had a second lock.
Only the company has these keys, Trevor said as he se-
cured the doorknob shield. The doors are double-locked to
make sure the owners don t come back and do something
stupid. Before we put in the poisonous Vikane gas, which
has no odor, we have to put in Chloropicrin, which is essen-
tially tear gas. That s to keep people out. The tear gas
makes their eyes stream. Sometimes, even that isn t
enough. People will break into their own homes because
they forgot a shirt for work or left their purse behind. They
think they can hold their breath long enough to get in and
out, but they can t. They re overcome by the gas.
What happens then?
MURDER BETWEEN THE COVERS 53
Some live. Some die. He shrugged. There s no known
antidote and the symptoms are different for every person.
You might have a heart attack. I might have convulsions.
Vikane affects different people in different ways. It s not a
good way to die.
One man went back into his place during a tenting, sat
down in his favorite chair, and turned on the TV. He d lost
his business and wanted to commit suicide. They found him
with his finger still on the remote, flipping through the
channels for all eternity.
A pair of cheating lovers sneaked back in because they
knew his partner would never think of looking in the tented
bedroom. They were found dead together.
The canvas tarps were shrouding the windows now, and
the rooms were dark as caves. The canvas flapped in the
breeze and created an odd snapping sound. As Helen
walked through the dark, hot rooms, she seemed to see
death everywhere. She wondered why Trevor bothered with
the locks, when the windows were left open.
Margery must have been thinking the same thing. What
about burglars? she said.
They die, too, Trevor said. If a thief gets in there,
well, he s not going to tell the hospital he inhaled Vikane in
a termite tent. By the time the hospital figures it out, he s
dead.
So how do you survive inside when the tents come
off? she said.
I use a SCBA respirator, Trevor said. George has one,
too, in case I get overcome. I ll go in and open everything
up. It will be safe for you to come back late Monday.
What s a SCBA respirator? Margery said. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
Helen wished Cal would disappear. Instead, he droned on
about how Canada was superior to America. Margery didn t
bother debating him, another sign she was not herself. Nor-
mally, she was the purple-clad defender of the USA. Helen
and Sarah struggled to carry on a conversation.
The evening broke up about nine with polite thank-yous.
Sarah gathered up her dishes and left. Margery packed up
the extra buns and chips and put away Peggy s salad. Helen
ate the last deviled egg. Cal took back his two unsliced, un-
touched tomatoes.
Helen had a restless night, but she could not sleep in Sat-
urday morning. She d promised to go with Margery for the
final walk-through at the Coronado before the crew put the
termite tent on. Helen felt like she was visiting a sick friend
in the hospital.
MURDER BETWEEN THE COVERS 51
Truly Nolen was doing the job. In South Florida, their
bright yellow Volkswagen bugs with the mouse ears,
whiskers, and tails were as common as the pests they killed.
When Helen and Margery arrived at the apartments at nine,
a flatbed truck was already there. George and Terrell would
put the monster yellow-and-black-striped tarps on the
building.
George, thin and whiplike, threw the tarps off the truck
and manhandled the long ladders. The tarps were rolled up
like tacos. Also on the trucks were long strings of metal
clamshell clamps, which looked like big spring clothespins.
The tarp ends would be rolled together and clamped shut,
forming a seal. George did most of the roof work. Terrell,
big and muscular, clamped down the building s sides.
Signs were posted all over the Coronado: DANGER:
DEADLY POISON PELIGRO VENENO MORTAL. For those who
could not read, there were skulls and crossbones.
Trevor, the fumigator, was nailing the last sign on the
gate. He was about five-eight, with powerful shoulders and
a strong, square jaw. He d dressed up his drab uniform with
gold chains that gleamed against his dark skin.
Ah, good, he said. Let s do the final inspection.
As they went through each apartment, Helen had a
voyeur s view of how everyone lived. All the cabinets were
open. Helen saw the same things in each apartment: miscel-
laneous mugs, stacks of Tupperware, ugly glass vases from
florists. They had a pathetic garage-sale look.
Trevor checked the refrigerators, cabinets, and stoves for
food. He looked carefully in each room, making sure no
one was left behind. He was obsessive about it.
An old woman hid in her home once because she didn t
want to leave. Poor thing died. Happened to another com-
pany, but it s every fumigator s nightmare. I don t want it to
happen to me.
Trevor moved with assurance through other people s
52 Elaine Viets
homes. Helen and Margery trailed behind him. Helen felt
guilty about snooping, but she also enjoyed it.
Cal the Canadian had furniture for a colder clime: heavy
velvet sofas and chairs, thick carpets, and a coffee table big
as an aircraft carrier. Clothes were dumped on chairs.
Books and newspapers were scattered on the floor. His
rooms seemed small and crowded. Even his fridge door
was cluttered with photos of his daughter and grandchild.
His cupboards and refrigerator were bare of food, and there
were no medicines in the bathroom. Cal s place was safe.
Peggy s home looked light and airy. Bright colors and
white wicker, painted wooden fish, and pretty seashells
made it a pleasant place to live. Her huge four-poster bed
looked like something in a magazine. Helen noticed there
were no photos except for ones of Pete. In the kitchen,
Peggy had left behind a box of birdseed, bananas, and a bag
of rice. Helen packed them up for her friend.
Some people can t follow simple instructions, Margery
grumped.
Peggy must have been distracted, Helen said.
After each apartment was inspected, the door was locked
with the owner s keys. Then the doorknob was fitted with a
metal shield that had a second lock.
Only the company has these keys, Trevor said as he se-
cured the doorknob shield. The doors are double-locked to
make sure the owners don t come back and do something
stupid. Before we put in the poisonous Vikane gas, which
has no odor, we have to put in Chloropicrin, which is essen-
tially tear gas. That s to keep people out. The tear gas
makes their eyes stream. Sometimes, even that isn t
enough. People will break into their own homes because
they forgot a shirt for work or left their purse behind. They
think they can hold their breath long enough to get in and
out, but they can t. They re overcome by the gas.
What happens then?
MURDER BETWEEN THE COVERS 53
Some live. Some die. He shrugged. There s no known
antidote and the symptoms are different for every person.
You might have a heart attack. I might have convulsions.
Vikane affects different people in different ways. It s not a
good way to die.
One man went back into his place during a tenting, sat
down in his favorite chair, and turned on the TV. He d lost
his business and wanted to commit suicide. They found him
with his finger still on the remote, flipping through the
channels for all eternity.
A pair of cheating lovers sneaked back in because they
knew his partner would never think of looking in the tented
bedroom. They were found dead together.
The canvas tarps were shrouding the windows now, and
the rooms were dark as caves. The canvas flapped in the
breeze and created an odd snapping sound. As Helen
walked through the dark, hot rooms, she seemed to see
death everywhere. She wondered why Trevor bothered with
the locks, when the windows were left open.
Margery must have been thinking the same thing. What
about burglars? she said.
They die, too, Trevor said. If a thief gets in there,
well, he s not going to tell the hospital he inhaled Vikane in
a termite tent. By the time the hospital figures it out, he s
dead.
So how do you survive inside when the tents come
off? she said.
I use a SCBA respirator, Trevor said. George has one,
too, in case I get overcome. I ll go in and open everything
up. It will be safe for you to come back late Monday.
What s a SCBA respirator? Margery said. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]