Romaine Wismer of Ellenton, Florida is forever grateful to her late husband for dragging her to Florida, where she became a late-blooming writer. She was educated in Pennsylvania. She's a former humor columnist for the Bradenton Herald, Bradenton, Florida, for whom she also held interviews and wrote features. This is her first attempt at writing fiction for which she won a literary award.
Romaine Wismer
MURDER IN THE PARK
by
Romaine Wismer (copyright 1997 All Rights Reserved)
"There's a body in the pool. There's a body floating
in our swimming pool. Did you hear me?"
"They can probably hear you in Sarasota, for heaven's
sake. Try to calm down and don't scream into the phone."
"How can I be calm? We were sitting around that pool
just yesterday and this morning there's cops all over the place
and Betty told me someone's floating in the pool and she's dead."
"Betty's dead?"
"Oh, sure, you're funny. Ha, ha. You won't think it's
so funny if it's a murder we've got here."
"Why would you think it could be a murder, Gerry?
You've been reading those gruesome books again. And you said
'she'. Do they know who it is?"
"I don't know what they know except it's a woman.
Should I go over there and find out who it is?"
"Sure. I'd like to know whether it's someone who
belongs here or an outsider?"
"An outsider wouldn't be floating in our pool. What
kind of an outsider would sneak into our park and get herself
killed?"
"Stop asking me dumb questions, Gerry, and go see what
you can find out."
I had been tugging on my bathing suit when Gerry
rattled my phone. Now I had a good reason to continue that
activity. I had to see for myself what was going on around our
pool. We live in a retirement village where most often the
greatest excitement in our day involves watching the recent
widower's door to see which widow is delivering a casserole.
This body in the pool thing was bound to create a stir.
For the first time in several years I locked the door
to my house when I set out for the pool which was two short
blocks away. Visiting that pool was part of my usual morning
routine. Following a swim to get some
arthritic joints ready for the day, my fellow residents and I
would gather for a gab session. We collapsed in a circle of
lounge chairs at poolside to compare and criticize all those who
did not belong to our little group. There would be no swim this
morning but there would surely be an interesting topic for
conversation.
My route to the pool took me past Gerry's house where
she was obviously waiting for my appearance.
"I was going home to call you," she said, "they won't
let you into the pool, you know."
"God, Gerry, you're dense this morning. Of course, I
don't want to swim. I just thought it would look more natural if
I wore my bathing suit while I was being nosey."
Gerry is my best friend and has been since all of us
moved into our new homes quite a few years ago. Her husband and
my Fred are golfing buddies. In fact that's where they were at
the moment, on a golf course. Gerry and I linked arms and tried
to look casual as we aimed ourselves toward the pool area which
was encircled by yellow crime scene tape.
"I heard one of the cops say it was Jugs in there, and
she's dead," Gerry tried to look devastated but didn't quite
make it. Jugs was not one of our favorite people.
"Somehow I didn't figure it would be her. The idea
that someone from the outside would wander into our pool to
drown doesn't make sense. But neither does the thought of Jugs
drowning anywhere."
Gerry just stared at me for a minute before she began
to giggle, "You're awful, but we always did say she could never
drown. Those jugs of here were supposed to keep her floating."
"Well, we were wrong, weren't we? The size of her
front evidently couldn't keep her head above water."
"Now, that's mean. We ought to have some respect for
the dead. You always were jealous of her shape, weren't you? I
know she chased Fred at the last dance but he was lapping it up.
So why aren't you mad at him instead of her?"
"Because there isn't a man alive who could resist a
pair of jugs like that, especially at our age. She bobbed those
things in front of him and he was off to the races. Men are
scarce around here and those of us who have one in fairly good
shape have to guard our property. So, I guess when we think
about it, she probably didn't drown. Did anyone mention anything
else?"
"Someone said she was knocked on the head before she
landed in the pool. You're just lucky there are a couple of
other women who won't be sorry she's gone. You wouldn't want to
be the only one who had a grudge against someone who turned up
dead."
"No, I wouldn't like that. But you don't think anyone
would seriously suspect women of our age of whacking Jugs on the
head over one of these old coots, do you? And what did she get
hit with?"
"Nobody said what hit her or whether they think it
might be one of those young guys that sneak in here at night to
cool off in our pool. Who knows what they think? You were awful
mad at her but so were Laura and Nan. And here come both of them
now."
"Then I'm out of here. I will not be a hypocrite and
join them in pulling a long face about this. Look at them.
They're not one bit sorrier than I am. You listen to them. I
have better things to do."
I made fast tracks to my house, not only to avoid the
other women. That shuffleboard stick of mine was in need of some
serious scrubbing. And it might not be a bad idea to lose it
down by the recycling bin, once it was clean of any fingerprints.
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