Voila.
Stachybotrys chartarum
Apparently, the pesky little beast otherwise known as black mold, could cause multiple health problems including aches and pains, headaches, fatigue, and memory loss. And wouldn’t that make all the sense in the world? Living in a lake side community the air was always thick with moisture. The old wooden house with its cracked pine boards and old plaster walls was like a petri dish for that kind of stuff.
Lucy sighed as she glanced at the clock on the wall. She was wide awake and knew that Kenny would be home soon so she might as well wait up for him. Maybe they could even walk out on the dock and watch the sunrise together. The thought made her smile, and an excited energy surged through her body. Why not put the time waiting to good use? Lucy decided to begin cleaning with the mold solvent she had bought at the market just today. She brewed a fresh pot of coffee, pulled off her nightshirt, put on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, pinned up her hair, snapped on a pair of rubber gloves and got busy. Lucy scrubbed down everything in the bathroom, which is where the article she had read said should be her first go to.
When she found small dark clusters of spores where moisture had gathered behind the tank of the toilet, Lucy felt validated. She followed a trail of thickening black streaks under the drawer of the vanity. Because her head had begun to hurt, and her chest had started to feel tight, Lucy thought it was best to cover her nose and mouth. Remembering that Kenny had bought a fresh pack of red and blue paisley bandanas she went searching for them. She remembered that he had left them in his duffle when they had moved to the lake house, but she didn’t remember where he had put the heavy canvas bag.
She looked under the bed and found nothing but dust bunnies. Nothing in the closet either, or in either chest of drawers. Now, Lucy looked up with trepidation at the trap door in the ceiling that led to a small attic space. She decided that maybe she could just have a feel for the duffle. Lucy was afraid to put her hand up there in the dark because if she did and it landed on something small and furry? She knew she’d die on the spot.
Just for good luck, Lucy touched the Martisor around her neck and immediately felt better. Her Romanian grandmother had given Lucy the amulet when she was just eight years old and Lucy never took it off. She sighed as she remembered the night when she had given her friend an amulet almost identical to her own. Lucy had had it specially made for Annie for her thirty fifth birthday. It pained Lucy to think that Annie had been murdered just a few days later. The gold chain had been found close to the body, but the amulet had been ripped off the chain. Lucy had been desperate to find the good luck charm. She had even gone back to the crime scene several times in the hopes that maybe she could find it, but law enforcement would not let her near the place.
Shaking away a feeling of foreboding, Lucy climbed carefully up on the chair and pushed the trap door aside. Her gloved fingers patted the floor of the rafters. Growing bolder now, but still thinking that any moment her finger would be bitten off by a rabid bat, Lucy gathered all her courage for one last reach. When her hand hit the rigid canvas fabric, Lucy cried out in victory and did a small fist pump in the air. Then she pulled the duffel down from the attic. It was surprisingly heavy, and Lucy struggled to keep her balance as she stepped down from the chair.
Lucy sat with the bag on the floor. When the zipper caught on something inside the duffle she broke a nail trying to force it. But she tried again and this time managed to pull the zipper through. Lucy felt at once rewarded because there they were, the red and blue bandanas were sitting right there on top of some other clothing. But to Lucy’s disappointment the bandanas had already been worn and were now covered with fine dirty dust. Hoping to find something else she could use, Lucy pulled out the dirty cotton scarves and put them aside. Then she continued to forage through. Next, she found a mud- dried pair of jeans, and a white t-shirt that looked like it had been splattered by red berry juice. She didn’t recognize the clothing as anything Kenny would wear and assumed that the duffel had been in the attic when they had rented the cottage. It had to be coincidence that the two bags looked identical. Khaki colored canvas duffle bags were a dime a dozen and could be found just about anywhere. Same was true with
