crime
scene. My statement was brief, very brief, since I truly knew
nothing. I had not even looked at the corpse. All I remembered was
the bare foot. The big toe had a gash on it and the one next to it
was bent at a crazy angle. It was a big foot, definitely a man’s,
since it was connected to a hairy leg. That was all I knew.
Period.
For the second time in two days the police
instructed us not to leave town. I collapsed on the sofa.
At ten thirty my realtor called. She was
showing my house to a young couple for the second time. Things
looked promising, could I stay close to the phone in case there was
an offer? I said “Sure.” I was too bummed out by the morning’s
events to do much, anyway.
We ate a light breakfast and stretched out
on the deck for some sun. Penny Sue perused a Cosmopolitan magazine
while Ruthie read astrology. I just lay there in a tranquilized
daze, grateful for the peace and quiet, until Ruthie bolted out of
her chair, shrieking. My heart all but stopped from fright
again.
“I’m allergic,” Ruthie threw her book down
and dashed inside, a wasp hot on her tail.
Another bug appeared which went after Penny
Sue. She swatted it with her magazine. By this time I was on my
feet and saw the problem. A wasp nest was lodged in the space
between the glass pane and molding on the sliding door. We’d
knocked it loose when we opened the door and the wasps were none
too happy about the intrusion.
“Om-m-m.” Ruthie, safe behind the screen
door, started to chant while Penny Sue batted the air wildly.
“What the heck are you doing, Ruthie?” Penny
Sue screeched.
“Om-m-m. I’m setting up a protection field.
Om-m-m.”
“Protection for who? Us or the bugs? Scoot,
scoot.” Penny Sue grabbed her beach towel and put it over her
head.
By then the vermin had started to buzz me.
But I was calm, collected ... heck, sedated. “Your force field
isn’t working, Ruthie. Go get the Hot Shot Wasp Spray. I saw some
under the sink.” Still chanting, she found the insecticide. As
Ruthie opened the door to hand me the can, Penny Sue bounded
through, leaving me to face the vicious vespids alone.
“Kills on Contact from Twenty Feet,” the
container read in bright yellow letters. I intended to put it to
the test. Draping a towel over my head, I backed up and pushed the
button. A stream of foul smelling poison spewed forth. The bugs
exploded from the nest like shrapnel as Ruthie’s chanting grew
louder and more frantic. I clutched the towel around me and dashed
down the boardwalk toward the beach. When I returned a few minutes
later, the wasps were writhing pitifully in the final throes of
death.
Penny Sue emerged from the condo holding a
fly swatter. “Great shooting, girl.”
I didn’t respond, just brushed dead bugs off
of my chair and stretched out again. Yet, my head had hardly
touched the chair when the telephone rang. Ruthie stopped chanting
long enough to answer it. My realtor again.
Yes, the couple seemed very interested, but
there wasn’t any hot water. Was something wrong with the hot water
heater? Could she hire a repairman to take a look at it? Although I
suspected it was something simple like a pilot light, I said, “Go
ahead, if it will help make the sale.”
As I talked, Ruthie busied herself making
sandwiches. I hung up the telephone and snatched a half. “Um-m,
cream cheese and olive. I can’t remember when I last had one of
these.”
Ruthie took one. “Me either, but they must
be Penny Sue’s favorite. Look at the size of these containers.”
Ruthie motioned at an extra large tub of cream cheese and an
enormous jar of green olives. “What if you sell the house? Have you
thought of where you’d like to live?”
I concentrated on my sandwich. I’d been so
caught up in the mechanics of now, of details, of what had to be
done, that I hadn’t given any thought to the future. “I don’t
know.”
“There are some adorable apartments in
Vinings. That’s a nice, eclectic area.