Slippery Rock Gazette

Frederick M. Hueston, PhD

I woke up to the sound of a gunshot echoing down my street. Heck, it was 5 in the morning! I don’t live in a bad area, but I immediately went to my gun safe to grab my old Louisville slugger. You thought I was going to say shot gun, didn’t you?  Well, I have one of those too, but for some reason, walking out of my front door holding a bat seemed like the thing to do. After all, I’ve already been tagged by some of the neighbors as a crazy old man. Why, I have no idea. Maybe ‘cause I drive a 1953 Woody station wagon. They don’t build them like they used too. Plus, I don’t have to worry about all those fancy electronics. After all, I learned to drive a stick shift, and even how to roll the window down with a crank and not a button.  But enough about me and my eccentricities; let’s get to today’s case…

As soon as I stepped outside, I found out it wasn’t a gunshot, only a backfire from a car. But I just gave my neighbors another reason to call me crazy. Yup – you guessed  it. Forgot to put on my robe and walked outside in my underwear. It’s a good thing I don’t sleep in my birthday suit.

I walked back inside, got dressed and headed over to see Flo for some early morning java and perhaps some French toast. As I walked in the door I could hear Flo screaming in the kitchen… again. Luckily, it was early and the diner almost empty; only the old admiral was there, and he’s almost deaf.

Well, if you remember my last story, there was a mouse incursion in the diner. This time it wasn’t a mouse, but a rat. At this point I was thinking I should have brought my bat, but I grabbed a broom on the way back to the kitchen. There he was, sitting there bold as brass, as if he was purposely teasing Flo. I swatted at him and he took off under the stove. I helped Flo down from her perch and told her I needed my morning cup of joe after the excitement. I went back to my regular stool, sat down, and then my phone rang. Yes, it rings at all hours of the morning. 

The voice on the other end said he was a contractor who was doing a bathroom remodel in some big wig’s home. He said they had a problem with the shower in the master bath and thought it might be leaking, since he saw some water spots on the opposite wall to the shower. He told me he needed someone with some test equipment to see if it was leaking. I told him I could look at it right away. He said, “Thanks, see ya later.”

I arrived at the home, or should I say castle. The place was huge. It was almost the size of the Biltmore House in North Carolina. I parked the old Woody in front of the house and was immediately greeted by a short, stout gentleman. He was wearing a t-shirt with his company name on it, so I assumed he was the guy who called me. 

I grabbed my test kit and my tool box and walked over to greet him. He pointed at the old Woody, and smiled and shook his head. We bumped elbows and we headed inside. He led me through what seemed like a museum. We walked by all kinds of statues and weird, modern sculptures. 

However, the bath looked like it was done in the 1950s, including the pink tile and pink toilet and sink. Brought me back to my childhood. He opened the shower door and right away I smelled a familiar odor. At that point I had my suspicions on what the issue could be. I turned around and asked him where the moisture was coming from. He led me out of the bath and around the corner to a long hallway. On the wall right opposite the shower was a dark spot. I pulled out my moisture meter to verify it was wet, and it was off the scale. I rubbed my chin and commented that it sure would be nice to see behind this wall. He smiled and said it was my lucky day, since they were going to tear the walls out today. “Great,” I said. “Can we start here?” as I was pointing to the suspected moisture area. 

If part of your business model includes remodeling bathrooms, you may recognize the clues in this wall space behind a shower.

He motioned to one of his men who was standing there watching my inspection to start tearing the wall out. His guy took a sledge hammer and put a big hole in the drywall. I asked him to stop, took out my flashlight, and what I saw is what I expected to see. In the wall space was a little piece of waterproof membrane and some rat droppings.

I looked down at the droppings and pointed, and said,  “You dirty rat! You’re the guy that killed my shower!”  The guy with the sledgehammer gave me a blank look. I guess you would have to be a James Cagney buff to get the reference. 

Anyway, you’ve probably guessed it – the rats were chewing into the liner, creating a small leak. My prescription was to tear out the shower and redo it, but first call an exterminator to get rid of the rats. 

Another case solved for this crazy ole stone detective. You know, that makes two significant rat incidents in one day… I wonder if this is the year of the rat? 

The Stone Detective is a fictional character created by Dr. Frederick M. Hueston, PhD, written to entertain and educate. Dr. Fred has written over 33 books on stone and tile installations, fabrication and restoration and also serves as an expert for many legal cases across the world. Fred has also been writing for the Slippery Rock Gazette for over 20 years. 

Send your comments to fhueston@stoneforensics.com.