Somebody shrieked and Yonna went head first over into the pool.
Her splash hit me in the face.
I’m finished with water aerobics. Tomorrow, I’m hatching a coup d’état at the woodworking shop. I bet half of this water aerobics class will join my rebellion. We can jigsaw Christmas ornaments as well as the next guy, and it’ll be much safer than swimming.
Yonna lay trussed and strapped on a gurney sucking oxygen. I’m betting she’s headed for the psych ward ASAP.
When Madonna, our best swimmer, dove into the deep end and tried to rescue the deranged woman, Yonna fought her. She came up sputtering and without Yonna.
Luckily two pickleball players were strolling through the pool area, checking out the hot chicks in the water aerobics class and jumped in to haul Yonna off the pool bottom.
Yonna gulped a bunch of pool water before she settled in the exact spot Dan had landed. The paramedics did CPR on her and she choked on a deadly mix of old lady pee and salt-chlorinated water. Our screams attracted Amelia, and now she sat underneath an umbrella looking bewildered and in dire need of a chill pill. She hadn’t cannon balled into the pool to save Yonna. Madonna was in a chair next to Amelia icing the bloody scratch marks along the side of her face.
I was first out of the pool. Don’t remember getting out, but I must’ve sprouted wings and flew.
Before the police arrived, Philly and Wayne swarmed into the pool area. Word got out fast for them to arrive so quickly, and Philly dropped to his knee beside me. “You hurt?”
“Nope.” They wounded me, but not physically. It tainted my perception of the Oasis. “I want to move... to another planet.”
“Where’s Alice?” Wayne asked, glancing about.
“She said she doesn’t do water.”
“Oh, that’s right. Guess I panicked.” Wayne took off his cowboy hat and swiped his bald head with his bear paw hand.
Philly stood. “Be right back. I want to find out what’s happening.”
Ann cranked up the umbrella over the table where I sat.
“Thanks.” I opened my swim bag and pulled the water bottle front. “I remembered water.”
Ann made herself comfortable. “I got one of those Brita water filters. Saves on buying so many bottles.”
“Yeah, I got one. Cali banned plastic bags. Plastic bottles will be next. They’re killing the seals.”
“Cali?” Ann asked.
“Philly’s nickname for California.”
“I bet. Plastic is a plague on the environment.” Ann quietened, worrying about the planet. I sat quiet too, letting her have peace. We were making silly small talk avoiding the obvious.
Yonna killed Dan. Racked with guilt, she recreated her crime trying to kill herself. Why hadn’t she waited until after the aerobics class? I knew why, after class the retirees wrapped themselves in pool noodles would swamp the pool, slathered on sunscreen, drank cocktails from plastic containers pretending, they probably wouldn’t have noticed her.
Yonna hadn’t wanted to die; she wanted punishment. Chlorinated pool water, old lady pee and an exercise weight was enough punishment, she wanted witnesses to her guilt.
My eyes drifted closed. Living here was exhausting.
“She said Wanda was wearing a black boa.”
My eyes popped open. Gale’s nose almost touched mine. Behind her head, the sun gave her an illuminated halo.
She was far from an angel.
My throat closed off. A black boa? That couldn’t be a coincidence. There’s no way. I hadn’t uttered a syllable about a black boa, had I?
“Ah... ah what? When’d did this happen?”
“I don’t know when. Not too long ago.” Gale leaned in so close I felt her breath.
“Did Madonna tell you about the photo album I found in the drawer under the closet?”
“No.”
“Who’s your friend? Get outta my face.” Gale leaned in closer, and I pushed on her chest with a finger. She moved back and sat on the chaise lounge, but touched my leg.
“Get back you’re weirdin’ me out.” I bumped her off my leg, and she scooted a proper distance away.
“Which one? I got lots of friends.”
“Errr, the one who said Wanda visited her.”
“Oh, yeah.” Gale readjusted her towel. “Lulu Anderson. She’s on Iowa. Been there a long time.”
“You say she knew Wanda?”
“She and Lulu were besties from way back. Grew up in the same town. When Lulu bought a house, she bought on Iowa cause that’s her home state. Her and Wanda.”
“Old high school chums?”
Gale nodded. “Probably. What’s with the album you found?”
I glanced at Ann. She’s faking and listening; she wasn’t asleep.
Something caught Gale’s attention on the other side of the iron fence, and I gave her a good once over. That Alaskan Bush pilot story gave me pause. I shouldn’t believe such a cockamamie hootenanny lie with a straight face. If it wasn’t for the fact, she visited me wearing a black boa, I would dismiss Gale with a good pinch to her chin. Mama would pinch my chin if she thought me lying. Most times, I fibbed, but in her book fibbing meant you were lying about lying.
“It’s a wedding album.” Why am I whispering? Ann knows everything like everyone else.
“You think Lulu was in Wanda’s wedding?” Gale guessed exactly what I was thinking.
Ann wiggled. I leaned over to shield my words. “Listen, I want to meet your Lulu.”
“Okay. I’m trying to tell you. What with you living in Wanda’s house, she might try to talk to us from the grave.”
I put my finger to my lips. “Shush. Give me your number. I’ll get in touch.”
Gale produced a cell phone. “Give me yours, I’ll arrange a meeting. Lulu’s real upset. What with the knife and all.”
“You know about the knife?”
“Pfft. Ever’body knows about the knife. What’s your number?”
I frowned, holding back a scream. “I don’t have a number... I don’t use cell phones.”
Gale’s turkey neck did the chicken dance. “You’re jokin’?”
“I wish I were.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bob’s Burger Bar
“Okay, folks.” The attending officer shouted. “If we haven’t questioned you, please write your name and phone number on this paper.” He held a clipboard with an attached sheet. “We’ll be in touch.”
Yonna wasn’t dead, so they didn’t need to detain us for as long as they had when they found Dan.
Alice had arrived, fussing over me like a mother hen. “I can’t believe this is happening again.”
“You and me both.” I let her fuss and carry my swim bag.
“Where have you been?” Wayne asked, relieved to see his bride.
Along with our menfolk we retired to the luxurious furnishings of Bob’s Burger Bar. Madonna scootered away in her golf cart and I don’t know what happened to Ann. As taxing as the heinous pool activities were, I would think the girls had vanished on purpose.
Gale found me and handed me a napkin with the number written on it. “Here’s my phone number. Call me later.”
“Sure.” This Wanda business weirded me out and I would be happy to done with her—and Gale.
Gale left, trailing her damp Oasis beach towel on the sidewalk. I hadn’t changed out of my wet swim suit soon enough like I had planned. It chapped my derriere in different ways; I would need a skin graft or maybe a physiatrist. Water aerobics had taken a physical and mental toll on my delicate psyche.
“You got any chill pills on you?” I asked Alice. If Ann took them, maybe so did everyone else. My nerves felt like I had used a cheese grater on them, a chill pill wasn’t enough. First thing, when I went to my preliminary doctor’s appointment to get established in Tucson, I was hitting him or her up for a refillable prescription of chill pills.
“What? Ah... sorry not right now.”
“Okay.” If she had ch
ill pills with her, she would need them all for herself.
Underneath the shade sails, Oasis residents filled all the picnic tables. Lunch at Bob’s was popular and too convenient. Eating here every day would not set well, but when Philly and Wayne came back carrying a tray with burgers, my stomach growled.
“Smells fabulous.”
Alice scooted along the concrete bench. “It sure does.”
The men passed out burgers and paper trays of fries. Alice set cold canned sodas at each spot, and I cracked off my soda’s pop top.
Wayne settled, spread out his burger wrapper and squeezed a squirt of ketchup on the still sizzling fries. He took a big bite and chewed. “Yonna confessed.”
I hadn’t even taken a bite of burger. “Really? How d’you find out?”
Philly nodded, chewing.
Wayne pointed with his pinky finger. “In line over yonder. Everybody’s talking about it.”
“I knew she did it,” Alice said with her burger at her lips. She smiled at me, knowing she had been right about Dan and Yonna strange behavior in the gym.
I swirled a fry in ketchup. “How on earth? What made you think she did it?”
Alice bit into her burger and Wayne answered for her. “She’s the only person around here who hoist a twenty-pound disk like that.”
That made sense. She looked too buff for a fifty-five plus resident. Most Oasis residents needed a lift chair and an ambulance driver to get to the dinner table.
“But why? And how?”
“Bob.” Wayne pointed at Bob’s order window. “The fry cook said... he speculated... she knocked Dan out in the gym.”
Alice nodded. “See, I told you so.”
I smirked. I hate I told you so’s unless it’s me saying I told you so.
“Drug him across the pool deck. Went back and got the weight...” Wayne took a breath and another big bite of burger.
“And a coat hanger from the rack in the gym?” Philly asked. He had hardly been interested in Dan’s demise, now he’s solving the crime.
Wayne swallowed. “Then... she came back, wrapped the coat hanger around Dan’s neck and hooked the weights onto it and put him in the water.”
All three waited for my reaction, but I drew a blank. “That still doesn’t tell me why.”
Wayne said, “I heard Dan and Yonna were dating. They sat over there.” He pointed at a grouping of tables and chairs inside the pool area. “Yonna caught Dan and Madonna talking and about pinched Dan’s ear off.”
Alice nodded. “Right, I saw them in the weight room. They weren’t having a good time.”
Wayne continued. “I heard she gave him a verbal tapping up while everyone sitting by the pool that night watched.”
“Madonna got up and left. She hasn’t said a word about Dan since,” Alice said. “I’ve tried to get her to talk about it, but she’s zipped it.” Alice pretend zipped her lips.
Madonna didn’t seem like the type to horn in on another woman’s man. She’s so sweet, so demure to create such a lover’s quarrel. I stared at the pool area; it wasn’t exactly a secreted rendezvous spot.
If that was the truth, no wonder she acted oddly quiet about his death. “What took the police so long to add up the facts?”
Philly added his two cents. “Police didn’t have a clue. Worthless beasts. Yonna confessed all.”
“No matter what Madonna and Dan were doing, he didn’t deserve to die,” Wayne said. “I’ve known Dan for a while. He was a ladies’ man, but he wasn’t a womanizer. Good as gold to his current lady. Ho.” Wayne looked under the table. “Don’t kick me, woman.”
“You used to be a ladies’ man.” Alice chuckled. “What the hell happened?”
“You, little missy, you.” Wayne’s hand dropped below the table and Alice squeaked.
“Stop that.” She snapped, slapping at his forearm.
Philly wadded his burger wrapper and wiped his chin with a crumbled brown paper napkin.
“Listen, Hunny Bunny, we gotta get. Those contractors need constant supervision.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
My Madonna
Bob’s burgers were filling; I could get away with giving Philly a bowl of Cheerios as an after-Jeopardy snack. I figured out why everyone disappeared at five o’clock in the evening, for one, that’s the hottest time of day. Second, once you watch Jeopardy and found Alex Tribex so transfixing, you were hooked. For me, he was more addictive than scotch or chill pills.
“I’ll be right back.” I hollered since Philly was snoring on the foam bed. He didn’t rouse, so I tiptoed down the veranda steps. He didn’t need to know where I was every minute of the day.
In the evening’s cool, I timed my approach carefully. Madonna isolated after the Yonna incident and I wasn’t having it. I’d get her version of what happened between her, Yonna and Dan, if I had to twist her arm.
Madonna’s blinds were closed tight. “Madonna, sugar, you home?” I tapped on her front door glass, timidly at first, but knocked twice more wholeheartedly. I wasn’t going away until I had a good Texas heart-to-heart with my spit sister. It has been a long spell since I had neighbor ladies I liked, and if we were to be successful friends, we had to trust each other.
Footfalls vibrated Madonna’s veranda, and the door cracked open.
“Oh, hey, Bunny. I was watching TV in the back room.” Her park model had an Arizona room which I hadn’t seen yet. In fact, no one along this side of the long wide Mississippi had invited me into their home since our arrival, except Wayne and Alice. Our identical park models sat twenty-five feet from each other across the street and twelve feet apart sideways and so far, we’ve only visited on our respective verandas.
“I’m not trying to be nosy, but...” That’s exactly what I was trying to do, but I announced my plans, anyway. “I thought you needed to talk.”
Through the crack in the open door, I saw Madonna’s nightgown. Had she sequestered herself all day to get away from prying eyes and butting in noses?
Yes, she had.
Bless her heart, she’s been grieving. I’ve been so self-absorbed in my petty issues—finding the right stack washer and dryer, finding a butcher knife behind the refrigerator and finding Wanda in my house—I hadn’t noticed Madonna’s pain.
“Well... I...” she began. “Okay. C’mon on in.” She stepped back and let me enter her humble home.
“Thank you,” I said, hugging her. “You’ve been such a good friend, I wanted to check on you. I had no idea.” Saying I had no idea was Texan code talk—time to confess your sins, girlfriend.
“Nice to see you. Come into the Arizona room. It’s cooler.” She turned, expecting me to follow her. I did but following her gave me time to check out her style. Everything in her park model said Madonna. With subtle tones of green and ivory, the living/dining area felt gardeny. Knickknacks did not clutter her galley kitchen, and she had no crochet cozies on her appliances.
She’s neat. I knew she would be.
She had a Keurig coffee maker. I wanted one bad, but Sweetie Bastard nixed that plan. He likes an old-fashioned 12-cup percolator that cooks the coffee instead of washing over it.
Her Arizona room looked divine. No, it wasn’t a measly divine room; sublime, a symphony of cool breezes, scented candles, mood lighting and comfy cushioned furniture. It felt like a cool bay breeze in the Sahara. I must intrude more often.
She clicked off the television. “Find a spot. I have white wine chilled.” Barefoot, she padded back toward the kitchen. I kicked off my shoes and let my bare feet luxuriate on her cool Mexican tiles. I need blue and beige Mexican tiles like hers.
“This is the grooviest room, I’ve ever seen.” I squatted on the edge of a cushy down filled sofa.
“Guess you haven’t been to Versailles?” She came back with two brimming glasses of golden Chardonnay.
Puckering, I took my glass. Has she been to Versailles? My Madonna is a world traveler sequestered in an Oasis? Interesting. Why did she choose this hell
hole of an oasis?
She settled in another expensive chair across from me. “Relax Bunny, it’s okay. I expected you. What with your curious nature.”
Wasn’t she sweet? She almost insulted me, but I let my Texas manners slide over that comment like melted butter.
“This whole Dan business has upset me. There’re whispers, you know?”
The chardonnay tasted fabulous, even though, I wasn’t a big wine drinker. Philly tried to convert me with Cali wine, but I never developed a hankering for the grapes. I couldn’t tell good wine from bad, and when we left San Fran, I tossed out a case of Two Buck Chuck I bought at Trader Joe’s umpteen years ago. Later, I watched two women dumpster diving to retrieve the bottles I had been careful not to break. In downtown San Fran, some consider dumpster diving full-time employment.
“I know, and since we’ve become fast friends, I need to do some explaining.” Her chair was a rock recliner, and she rocked.
I should’ve said I’m all ears, but chose. “Huh-uh.” I wanted to remain fast friends, she has been invaluable this week.
“Dan was Bud’s best friend. Yonna was a nut job.”
“Yeah.” I sat back relaxing. “They knew each other? Yonna and Dan until...”
I sipped wine trying to sort what little facts I had about the pair.
“Dan wasn’t a lady killer. Not in the bad way. Good looking, too. Debonair. He didn’t stick with a woman long, because once a girl found out he wasn’t the marrying type, she’d break it off. Dan didn’t care. He didn’t want to be tied down. He married twice before and had his fill of crazy women. Guess he picked the wrong nut job when he hooked up with Yonna.”
“She has nice muscles.”
“She was once Miss Body Builder America. I suspect it’s those steroids and enhancement drugs they use.” Madonna pointed at her temple. “Messes with the brain.”
“I bet it does.” Miss Body Builder explained her strength and a lot else. She was used to the spotlight, if Body Builder America had spotlights, and killing Dan put her back into a blinding light—one she’ll regret standing in.
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