“That answer sounds suspiciously like something a retired plumber would say.”
I handed him a drink.
The waterfall on Denise’s pool ran continuously.
Women laughed.
Glasses clinked.
Someone turned the music louder.
For almost half an hour, nothing happened.
Then voices changed.
It began as confusion.
“What is that?”
Somebody laughed nervously.
Another voice said something I could not make out.
Then came a scream.
Not playful.
Not startled.
Horrified.
Curtis looked at me.
I put my glass down.
Another scream.
Then shouting.
Chairs scraped across stone.
Someone yelled, “Get out!”
A gate slammed.
The music stopped.
For several seconds, the backyard beyond the fence became pure chaos.
Later, statements reconstructed what had happened.
The pool water had seemed slightly unusual for part of the morning.
Nothing dramatic.
A faint cloudiness.
An odd slick feeling.
The chlorination and pool chemicals masked much of what was wrong at first.
Then one guest noticed an odor.
Another looked down and saw the water was no longer as clear as it had been.
People started asking questions.
Then somebody realized the smell was coming from the pool itself.
Panic moved faster than information.
Women rushed toward the steps.
One slipped while climbing out and splashed back into the shallow end.
A table was knocked over.
Champagne glasses shattered across the stone.
One guest became sick near the landscaping.
Another started crying.
A woman ran straight through the side gate toward her car, still barefoot.
And in the center of it all was Denise.
She had been reclining on a white float.
For most of the first few seconds, she did not understand why everybody was shouting.
Then she slid from the lounger into waist-deep water.
“What is going on?”
Nobody answered.
“What is wrong with the pool?”
Someone shouted back.
Denise looked down.
Then she smelled it.
Witnesses later described her expression almost identically.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
Horror.
Then rage.
“What is in my pool?”
That sentence carried over the fence clearly enough that Curtis heard it too.
He looked at me.
I said nothing.
“You know something.”
“I know she’s been stealing from a fixture labeled non-potable.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Jake.”
“Everything’s on camera.”
“That was not my question.”
Before I could answer, another guest shouted for somebody to call emergency services.
That changed the situation.
The satisfaction I had expected never came.
People were frightened.
Whatever lesson Denise deserved, her guests had not knowingly participated in the theft.