2174. Death by drowning

The coroner said it was death by drowning. Things hadn’t been going too well for Janelle and Melville. They had been living together for fourteen years in a rather nice villa in the south of France. It had a swimming pool for summer and a sauna for the cold. Around about the eleventh year of their relationship they began to argue big time. They had often argued, but not at the level the eleventh year ushered in.

Janelle wanted to heat the pool. “How lovely to take a dip in the winter.” They could well afford it. But Melville thought it nice to do seasonal things in a seasonal time. “Why swim in the winter?”

The argument had intensified over three years. It was now winter, and Janelle was harping, harping, harping.

“Ok,” said Melville, “if it’s a winter swim you want it’s a winter swim you’ll get.”

1996. Poolside accident

To all intents and purposes, said Detective-Sergeant Noseworthy, this swimming pool drowning looks like an accident. An accident? An accident indeed! Ha! Ha! Ha! What some people believe!

Sherry clearly was pushed in and held under. That’s my suspicion. To say she slipped on the swimming pool steps, hit her head on the edge, and subsequently drowned, could be construed as a cover-up.

I have interviewed eleven people at the poolside barbeque and not a single one saw what happened. Yeah right! They were at a poolside barbeque and no one was at the poolside. They were all inside the house getting their plate and knife and fork, leaving Sherry to go for a swim on her lonesome. I find all that hard to believe.

Still, if that’s what the coroner said, then that’s what the coroner said. I’m happy to leave it at that. I can’t say I’m not pleased that Sherry didn’t drown. She was a regal pain in the proverbial and I should never have married her. It was very nice of Candy and Mervyn Parsonage to invite us to their poolside barbeque, but Sherry and I had a huge argument in the car on the way there. She had been obstreperous like that for several months.

I was late going into the house to get my plate and knife and fork, and when I came out the others were already hauling her body out of the pool.

1778. A wallow in luxury

Charles was sent by his boss on an important mission. He would get paid extra, but the negotiations were going to be tough. Imagine getting paid to pamper oneself in a luxurious hotel in Dubai! Spas! Food! Wine! Swimming pool! What a shame it was, thought Charles even before he left for Dubai, that the negotiations would never succeed!

Of course he would stay in the hotel and take advantage of every luxury. The negotiations could go to hell. He was in it for the enjoyment, provided he played his cards right. He had clawed his way up, not without effort, to be number two in the company. Life was a breeze. The boss was weak and ineffective. Charles would take over the company management soon enough.

And play his cards right in Dubai he did! Twice the boss had phoned and twice Charles assured him that things were “tough”. The third time the boss phoned, Charles was wallowing in a luxury soapy bath. The phone slipped through his hand into the soapy suds.

“We seemed to have been cut off,” said Charles later.

“No we didn’t,” said the boss, who had been suspicious of Charles for a time. “I was in the room next door.”