Pond Water

This is it. The disgusting hot air clogs my nose while at the insect-ridden swap. This boys boy has been ripped to pieces by all the swamp creatures of this bayou. I use to love the bayou and the mysteries that it holds but now. I think the heat or the body has gotten to me. It must have gotten to this guy too. I can tell it is a suicide. The rope around his neck with a concrete block at the end is a dead giveaway. His limp body was found floating eerie in a swamp close to the busy highway. The officers have already taken him out of his watery grave.

"Po'Boy." an officer says as he walks away from the body.

"Has anyone got an ID for this Doe?" I say under the black and gold bandana covering my nose.

"Yes, ma'am. We found his wallet, some change, and a note. It's wet, but we can still read it. His name is Andrew Richard. His ID says he has an apartment in New Orleans. Here's the note." the officer hands over a plastic baggy with damp paper inside. The writing is a suicide note for what he had done. The paper read, "I'm not sorry but I WILL END THIS MY WAY. Please go to my apartment! You will find Zee how she lived. IN PIECES."

"So we are heading to his apartment?" I ask Detective Milan. We have been partners for around two months so it has been easier to let him take the lead. The large burly man was splitting at the seem from the sight of the body. Even a seasoned detective can't get used to sights like this. His body is bloated, and the skin was already peeling off. The smell doesn't help in this heat either.

"I haven't eaten this morning and now it is definitely off the table. Let's go by and see if anyone is home," he says as he spits the smell of death out of his mouth. The officers that are working the scene hand me a piece of paper that has the man's address on it. The address was an apartment at 800 North Rampart. As we walk from the swamp this man's body was floating in, I think of what made this man do this to himself. How much pain has this guy been under to do such a thing as this? And what happened to this Zee? I wipe the sweat from my brow. Detective Milan usually drives so today hopefully hasn't changed.

As we make our way down the swampy highway I look out the window watching the scene move away from us. What an ending. Why here? What brought this guy here? I've seen this address before but only in a blip of an interview. Maybe a dancer going missing from the area, I will have to go back and look into the reports.

"What are you think? That tapping on the window has to be because the wheels turning?" Detective says as I stop tapping the window with my pen. I always have my pad and pen out when I'm taking on a new case.

"I have heard about this area before but I can't put my finger on the case. It seemed like a bunch of hoodoo once I started asking questions to the neighbors. A lot of actions for the person that was out of character but the house is close to a voodoo shop. That already brings a different type of judgment right there." I say as I write the address down in my notepad.

"There have been too many curses's going on these past few months. This year is not for the city." Detective Milan says. It's 2006 and New Orleans is still recovering from Hurricane Katrina. Life is hard but not hard enough to end it in this over-filled mud hole. The city is shambles and so are the people. The news in the background and the wind streaming through my ears as we brainstorm.

Once in the city, we pull up on the curb of North Rampart, I notice the Voodoo shop is closed but the door is open.

"Look at that," I exclaim to Milan as I nod over at the building. "The apartment must be upstairs," he points to the staircase siding the building leading upstairs to a balcony.

"Let's go in a feel that vibe in there," Milan says and as he shrugs his shoulders heading towards the door. The two-story apartment with the garage opened. It has huge ferns with beads decorating the iron rails and drapes of italic ribbon. Always a new sight to see in this city. All the doors are opened and airing some thick smoke out of the building. We can smell the sage that has been over burnt in the small space.

As we walk into the building we can see there has been a moldy smell in the air. As I scan the building; packed with voodoo books, candles, memorabilia, I can see black moss growing from the ceiling. A shaggy old woman with a glass eye came swaying towards us. She does not look happy and she can tell we are up to something.

"Are you here bout the smell? It is like a family of rats crawled up in here and died!" she says as she waves her hands in the air.

"Yes, ma'am we are. What is with all the smoke?" Milan says through his handkerchief.

"Well. There has been some strange moss growing on the ceiling," she points to the mass growing slowly, "now this smell is here this morning. So bad I can't let anyone come in here."

"Have you heard from the tenants upstairs? Did they say anything about the smell?" I ask as I fish for a few answers to be answered at once.

"I have not heard from them in a few days. I sold the ole girl a potion of Pond Water that day. Since then nothing. I was guessing they left the city since things aren't getting better. They have been helpful with food, but they are a bit toxic. Bad vibes." The lady says as she grabs a broom from the wall. She walks them toward the open garage door to get out of the room that is suffocating.

"What is Pond Water? Did she tell you what she needed it for?" When I ask her this I try not to have any suspicion in my voice. I have seen many things in my life so I try to keep an open mind.

The old bird leads us to the doorway, " I have made the Pond Water for couples to rekindle the love that is already there," she stresses, " Not for the ones that have more lust than love. That was them. I told her this was not the potion for her. None of these are because they ain't meant to be together. Just to tear each other apart."

We look at each other, and I pull out my notepad to jot down what the lady has said. This saying has become too abundant for us to just let it drift away into the depth of the case. I write "IN PIECES" and "TEAR APART" in it.

"Have you heard from Mr. Richard lately?" I ask her as we stand in the heat of the day.

"No. I saw him leave a few nights ago, but I have not seen him since. I close up around 7 in the afternoon. I have been in mostly to clean, and I have gotten in late most days. I'm just noticing the moss. Child, it's too much for an old woman." The poor woman wipes her top lip, " If you don't need me I am going in now. Please tell them to clean up the mess upstairs."

I nod to her as she goes back inside. Shade is a blessing on a day like today; hot and humid with a hint of death in the air. Detective Milan and I make our way up the stairs to the red door. A smell hits me before we even get inside. A body is in here and it has been here for some time, but thankfully we can hear the AC unit going.

I dig in my jacket pocket and pull out two sets of plastic gloves to hand a pair to Detective Milan. We put the gloves on then he points to the rim of the door. A dark moss has welded around the door; I rub my gloved finger over the moss-like dust on my dresser. It collects on the tip of my finger. I grab the handkerchief from Milan's pocket as I wipe the moss on it.

"You ready for this?" I ask him as I jiggle the doorknob, its unlocked, which has sealed the door closed.

"No, but we are here now. At least the smell is giving it away." Milan says, exhaling then inhaling a deep breath of fresh air.

We are so morbid. We nod together as I smash my shoulder to the door, breaking the moss seal, and exposing a horrid sight. I gasp due to the amount of blood, moss, and mold that has grown in this tiny apartment. We slowly walk, taking careful steps because of all the swollen wood on the floor, to the kitchen. We can see cans flung all over, writing on the walls, and what looks like molded food on the tables and counters. CALL MY WIFE, and THE WATER CALLS have been handwritten in, possibly, blood on the walls many times.

"Where's the body?" I ask from behind Milan. The smell is as thick as the bayou that Andrew drowned himself in.

"Look at that," Detective Milan says as he shields his nose with his inner arm, " the knives broken. Blood on the oven door."

"We need to call this in," I say as I creep towards the stove. I know what's inside but I still have to look. Dread comes on these types of days as a detective. I take my flashlight out of my pocket and click it on. Taking my fingers under the handle of the oven I can feel my hands shaking. The door creaks open, and a powder poofs out of the space, then a whiff of burnt roadkill seeps out. I know this isn't going to get any better so I rip open the oven to expose the horror of Zee's grave. Her arm shakes out of the oven onto the floor from how violently I opened the door. We both jump back from the sight of this body distorted into an unrecognizable shape. Her arm has been cut off and that's why it jumped out and who knows what has happened to her other arm.

"My God. I'm going to go call this in and get some fresh air. Geez, man." Milan heads to the sun beaming into the stomach-churring box that is slowly closing in on them. Fuzz comes over the radio as Detective Milan heads out.

I take a minute to read every inch of the room. The drug paraphilia on the counter, the plates are thrown about, and there are two cups on the small wooden table. The moss has grown area the rim of the cups, crept onto the table, and down to the floor. What a strange sight, it has become like the swamp that Andrew was at. A shake comes from the open oven so I walk closer. The smell is death. The tomb shakes more. I flash my light into the opening past the corpse towards the back of the machine. A puff of moss explodes out as a snake curls itself over the girl's segmented body.

"AH!" I scream with fright. Wiping my gun out and shooting the head right off of the creature.

Milan runs in armed and ready, "What's happening?"

"Damn snake in there with the body!" I choked out.

"God!" he says.

"Can you go downstairs and see if you heard something for me?" I ask as I walk towards him, still watching the twisting snake.

I pull out my radio as I hear Detective Milan clanking down the staircase. The fuzz comes over the radio again.

"I'm downstairs. No bullet holes here." Milan says.

I walk over to where the moss cups sit and stomp my foot on the floor under it.

"I heard your thuds. It is right where the black moss is growing on the ceiling." Milan informs exactly what I was thinking.

"I'm on my way down," I answer.

Detective Milan and I meet at the door. I spit on the sidewalk to get the taste of death and disaster out of my senses. I see the change in the old woman's face when she realizes why we are here. The lady is heartbroken but I can see that she is not surprised.

"Where did you get the Pond Water from ma'am?" I ask her pulling off my gloves.

"I got it from the swamp outside of the city." She says shaking her head.

The story of Zack and Addie, 2006.