The Case of the Expert That’s Not an Expert
A Call for a Second Opinion
I was sitting at my favorite greasy spoon, flirting with Flo, when my phone buzzed. Flo slid my usual black coffee across the counter and said, “You’re workin’ too hard, Stone Man. You look like you’re about to crack a floor yourself.” I was about to give her one of my classic one-liners when the voice on the other end of the call said, “We’ve got a marble problem, and we already have an expert on site. But we’d like your opinion too.”
That line always gets me. “Another expert,” I said, taking a sip. “Sure, why not? Send me the address.”
The “Expert” on Scene
When I pulled up to the building, the so-called expert was already holding court. Khaki pants, clipboard, and the kind of confidence only someone who doesn’t know what they’re talking about can pull off. He saw me coming and strutted over like a rooster in a marble coop.
“You must be the other consultant,” he said. “I’ve already determined the problem. It’s effervescents.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Effervescents?”
He nodded, dead serious. “Yeah, that white powdery stuff. Effervescents. Comes up when the stone’s not sealed right.”
A Lesson in Stone Science
I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. I just let him keep talking. He went on about how the “effervescents” were caused by “improper homing” and “too much moister” under the stone. He said it like he’d just solved the mystery of the pyramids.
I looked down at the marble floor. It was classic efflorescence, the salt residue you get when moisture migrates through the stone and evaporates. Anyone who’s been in this business more than a week should know that. As for “homing,” I figured he meant honing, but who was I to interrupt a man on a roll?
He crouched down and tapped a tile. “You see, this is where the stone got over-homed.”
I almost choked on my own grin. “You mean over-honed?”
He blinked. “No, no. Over-homed. That’s what I said.”
Solving the Real Mystery
I took a slow breath and said, “Mind if I take a look?”
He stepped aside, still clutching that clipboard like it was a badge. I ran my hand across the surface, took a whiff of the musty air, and saw the telltale signs of moisture migration. The baseboards were stained, the grout lines were damp, and there was no vapor barrier in sight.
“It’s efflorescence,” I said finally. “Moisture’s pushing salts up through the stone. The problem’s below, not above.”
He frowned. “That’s what I said, effervescents.”
I gave him a look that could polish granite. “No, you didn’t.”
The client, standing nearby, was starting to catch on. She asked, “So… he’s not exactly right?”
I smiled. “Let’s just say he’s fizzing up the wrong drink.”
Wrapping Up Another Case
By the time I finished my inspection, the “expert” had wandered off to make a call. Probably to order more big words he didn’t understand. I wrapped up my report, explained the real issue, and left the client with a plan to fix it.
Later that evening, I was back at the diner. Flo topped off my coffee and asked, “So, how’d it go, Sherlock?”
I grinned. “Let’s just say some experts know the walk, but not the talk.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Guess that’s why they call you the Stone Detective.”
I smiled back and thought, she’s right. There’s always another case waiting out there, and usually, another “expert” to make it interesting
