The Stone Detective in The Case of the Purple Marble Mayhem
Dr. Frederick M. Hueston, PhD
It was a cold and dreary morning as I woke up to the grating sound of my alarm clock. My head felt like it was still circling the baggage claim from the red-eye I took back from California the night before. I had just wrapped up an inspection of a high-rise marble fiasco in L.A., and I was running on fumes. Half asleep, I stumbled into my usual detective getup and headed out the door. There was only one thing on my mind—getting to my favorite greasy spoon diner for a cup of jo and a chance to swap a few words with Flo. She had a way of brightening up the darkest of mornings.
But as luck would have it, I barely got out the door when my phone rang. I fumbled for it, still half awake. “Stone Detective here,” I muttered, trying to sound alert, but not quite pulling it off.
The voice on the other end was all business, cold and steady, like something out of a Liam Neeson flick. For a second, I thought he was about to rattle off that speech about his special skills and how he would find me, and, well, you know the rest. Instead, he said he had a marble emergency. “We have purple stains appearing on a Bianco Rhino marble installation in the lobby of a hotel. We need you here—now.”
I rubbed my eyes and glanced at my watch. “I’ll head your way soon as I finish my breakfast,” I replied. You don’t rush a man when he’s halfway to a date with a fresh cup of coffee and a waitress with a smile.
By the time I rolled up to the hotel, the sun had barely pierced the clouds, casting long shadows over the marble lobby. I was greeted by the hotel manager—a stiff guy in a three-piece suit who looked like he hadn’t cracked a smile since the stock market crash. He led me through the grand lobby, where pristine Bianco Rhino marble floors gleamed under the chandelier lights… except for a few spots where nasty purple stains had marred the stone’s beauty.
“What do you think, Detective? Ever seen anything like this?” The manager’s voice was tense, desperate.
I knelt down, running my hand over the stains. They weren’t superficial—these babies had seeped into the stone. I reached into my pocket for my loupe, examining the surface. It didn’t take long to recognize the familiar reddish undertones beneath the purple.
“I’ve seen it before,” I said, standing up and brushing off my knees. “Iron oxidation. Your marble’s got some iron in it, and once moisture gets in there, it’s like a time bomb. Rust starts to form, and in this case, it’s giving off a nice purple hue.”
The manager looked puzzled. “But this is Bianco Rhino! It’s supposed to be high-quality marble!”
“Even the best marbles can have iron deposits,” I explained. “And when water finds its way in—be it from improper sealing, cleaning, or just the natural porosity of the stone—it reacts with the iron and, well, this is what you get. You ever notice how some old buildings have rusty streaks on their stone walls? Same deal here, just a different color.”
“So what do we do?” he asked, wringing his hands.
“Well, first things first—you’re gonna need to dry out the stone. The moisture is causing the oxidation, and if you don’t stop that, more stains are coming. Then you’ll need to treat the stone with a poultice to pull out the iron stains. After that, I’d suggest sealing the marble properly this time to prevent any future moisture from sneaking in.”
I could see the gears turning in the manager’s head, but the weight of the problem was clear on his face.
“I’ll get on it right away,” he said.
I tipped my hat and turned toward the door. “Make sure you use a proper stone sealer. You don’t want to see me back here again unless it’s for a cup of jo.”
The manager nodded, relief starting to replace the panic in his eyes.
As I stepped out into the chilly morning air, I took a deep breath. Just another day solving mysteries in the world of marble and stone. Another cup of coffee would be nice, but that would have to wait.
I checked my watch and smiled to myself. “Another case solved,” I muttered as I headed back toward my car, already pondering what the next call might bring.
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. Send your comments to fhueston@stoneforensics.com.