Happy 4th of July!

I hope everyone had a good day.  I know it wasn't like previous years' celebrations but I hope you at least grilled out.  I spent a quiet day doing everyday stuff, a socially-distant day.


My Mother's Day geraniums are enjoying their spot in the back yard.  I keep snipping off the spent blooms so that it keeps making more.  Love the red.  Thanks again, DS and family!


Man, the neighborhood fireworks are close and loud tonight.


My tomatoes are even bigger today and I swear that the one on the right has changed color ever so slightly.  (Don't burst my bubble, I know it's still totally green, but I swear that it's different from a few days ago.)





The daisies are opening and the Japanese beetles haven't eaten holes in all of them--yet.  I hope they find something else to eat.  And not my vegetables.




Today's toss was these two Pyrex casserole dishes with lids.  I like them and used to use them all the time, but they hold too much food for one person so they're off to Goodwill for someone else to use.




I spent the afternoon and evening watching TV and knitting on the Hawk's Wing shawl.  You know, if you add eight stitches every other row, the rows get longer and it takes longer to knit each one.  (Just in case you were wondering.)  I've knitted up one skein and am into the second one a bit so I'm thinking that I might have enough yarn.  Time will tell.  I can always quit a repeat before the pattern says to bind off.  Next comes the lace part.  It isn't lacy but it's columns with holes so it classifies as lace.

04  July--Barbara Malcolm, Tropical Obsession.

He decided to swing over a block and drive down along the sea front through Playa.  Driving that way forced him to slow down, to look at the roving tourists, and to watch the surge and play of the locals.  It gave his mind a chance to go over the things he wanted to speak about with the American couple who had discovered the body. 

He also made a quick stop at San Francisco Hospital down the street from Cultimara Grocery to see if the coroner had any interesting information or if anyone had discovered the name of the unfortunate man.  Rooibos passed through the teeming lobby of the hospital with its crying babies and pacing mothers, down a long dim corridor to the lab and coroner’s office at the rear.  He pushed open the door of the morgue with his shoulder and reached to take a mask from the box alongside the door. 

“Mask,” a gruff voice called. 

Rooibos saw the stooped back of Doctor Booi spotlighted by the harsh lights over the autopsy table.  

“Yes, yes,” he said softly. 

The doctor turned to frown at him.  “Do not be smart with me, boy, I remember you from when you were not so important.”  The dark brown eyes that peered at him over the mask could not hide a twinkle despite the sharp words. 

Holding the mask over his nose and mouth, the detective inspector crossed the room to stand at the older man’s elbow.  “And I remember you when you had more bedside manner,” he said. 

Doctor Booi snorted.  “Bedside manner, ha.  I always had trouble with that.  That is why I like working with the dead; they do not complain about a man’s lack of bedside manner.”

“All I need to know is how this man died and who he was,” Rooibos said to the older man. 

“Oh, is that all?” 

Rooibos could hear the sarcasm in the old voice and knew that his friend would not let him down. “I would appreciate anything else you could tell me, too, like the name of the killer if this was not an accident.” 

The coroner’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.  “Of course, I will discover all of that and more with one swipe of my scalpel.”  He brandished the surgical instrument like a sword and then his eyes turned serious.  “I have learned a few things for you, Joachim.”  He looked back at the body laid out on the cold marble slab.  “This was a well-cared-for man wearing expensive clothing.  He was well-nourished and -groomed.”  His gloved hand moved to indicate the organs of the body’s stomach.  “Our Mister Jack Spencer had an ulcer that must have bothered him quite a bit.” 

“Jack Spencer?  You know his name?  Why did you not tell me?” 

“I just did.  Give an old man a bit of credit.”  Doctor Booi motioned toward the tray on the counter across the room.  “His wallet was buttoned into his hip pocket.  I teased the papers apart, a lot of money in there by the way, and found his American driving license, various membership cards, and all his credit cards.” 

“So, it was not a robbery,” Rooibos said. 

“It would appear not,” the doctor agreed. 

“Anything else you can tell me?” 

Doctor Booi was pleased to hear the note of humility in Rooibos’ voice.  “Well,” Booi said, drawing out his triumph, “Mister Spencer drowned.” 

“Water in his lungs?” 

Doctor Booi nodded. 

“Sea water?” 

He nodded again. 

“Anything else?”  With each question Detective Inspector Rooibos leaned further over Jack’s open corpse. 

“Down here.”  Doctor Booi motioned Rooibos to follow him down to Jack’s feet.  “Here.”  The coroner pointed at the right ankle.  “See the bruising around the ankle?” 

Rooibos nodded. 

“Perimortem bruising.  If you look carefully you can see the shapes of fingers wrapped around.” 

Rooibos leaned over until his nose nearly touched the icy cold skin.  “I do see.”  He straightened up.  “Can you take pictures of this?  Is it possible to obtain fingerprints?” 

“No fingerprints, but I have already taken pictures of the bruising.” 

Rooibos was silent for a few moments staring off into space.  Then he asked, “Anything else?” 

The coroner shook his head.  “The amount of scraping and animal depredation have erased or covered any other injuries.  He was not shot or stabbed, this I know, but it looks to me as if he fell or was tripped onto sharp rocks of which our lovely island has a large supply and then when he was unconscious he was put into the water to allow the water and the fish to finish the job.  That is what I think.” 

“That will be your official finding?” Rooibos asked.  “I do not want to go off searching for a killer only to find it was an accident.” 

“I do not think you will find this is an accident, Joachim.  The finger marks around his ankle tell me that. Now go find a killer.”  The coroner waved off the detective and went back to his work. 

Rooibos replaced the gauze mask on the shelf near the door and left the air-conditioned morgue.

(I just realized that this is in the wrong place in the manuscript because Rooibos has already been to see Mona to tell her that Jack is dead.  Oops.)

I keep hoping that the weather people are wrong and that I'll wake up tomorrow and it'll be back to topping out at 80 with much lower humidity.  No such luck  I just checked the weather and it's supposed to get a couple degrees hotter, into the low 90s, for the next week.  Dandy.  Just dandy.  I swear I'm not going to mow the lawn until the weather breaks.  I can't imagine spending an hour out there following the lawn mower around and around.  Not gonna do it.
--Barbara