Twenty Lines

The pool boy found an artificial leg at the bottom of the swimming pool.  None of the guests  came forward to claim it.  It was a bona fide mystery.  He collected it, put it in the caretaker's cabana, and thought no more about it until the next morning, when he found an artificial arm at the bottom of the pool.  Once again, no one came forward to claim it.  Nor he did see any armless, legless guests around the pool. 

The pool boy, a born reader of mystery novels, attempted to puzzle out these strange developments.  He talked to the concierge, asked him whether any of the hotel's guests were suddenly missing limbs, and received an answer in the negative.  So he went back to skimming leaves only to discover, the next morning, a toupee floating on the pool's surface.  At first he thought it was a dead animal, but no, it was a hairpiece.

He naturally began to assume that somebody was fucking with him, and it made him mad.  He went back to the concierge to ask if there were any suddenly bald guests wandering around.  No, said the concierge, the haired were still haired, the legged were still legged, and the armed were still armed.

The next morning he discovered a naked blond floating face down on the surface of the swimming pool.  The police were summoned, the body was removed, and the pool boy wondered whether he should explain to the police his previous days' discoveries, or whether they would tell him there was no connection and to get lost.  He finally decided to keep the fact of the leg, arm and toupee to himself, and went back to his job. 

The next morning he discovered the body of the armless, legless, bald man in the swimming pool, and once again the police were called.  This time he produced his previous discoveries, and the police berated him for not having turned them over the previous day. 

The police discovered no connection between the blond and the legless, armless, bald man.  But the pool boy thought the two cases were related, he was certain of it, and when he found an artificial foot at the bottom of the pool the next morning he knew that the deaths would continue, and that sooner or later he would get to the bottom of it. 

Comments

[Bulletholes]

If the blonde can be Nancy Grace, then I'm satisfied.

[Jeffers]

This is creepy good.

[Jan Martin Löhndorf]

It is.

[UF Mike]

How'd you know it was Nancy Grace? Thanks, Jeffers and Jan Martin. It's more like the beginning of something that will never be written.

[UF Mike]

How'd you know it was Nancy Grace? And thanks, Jeffers and Jan Martin. It's the beginning of something that will never be written.