A Body to die for

my feet. I get uncomfortable when people get serious on me. And all this talk of Jacuzzis made me want to soak in one. “I guess the scene of the crime would be a good place to start,” I said. “The Jacuzzi?” Jack pointed at the door behind me. I turned around and punched it open. I assumed my cocky-for-clients strut, though the fog in the room was so thick Jack might have missed it. I reached into my purse for my glasses. They were steamed before I arranged them on my nose.
    Jack entered the room, waving his arms through the fog. “The Jacuzzi should be off. Damn, Ameleth! She never remembers.” Jack walked past me into the room. He groped for the light switch and hit it. The ceiling was suddenly dotted with yellow orbs, shimmering through the fog.
    I took off my glasses and walked forward on the wood-planked floor. I made out the border of the circular Jacuzzi. It was the size of a birdbath for pterodactyls. The gurgle was loud, comforting, like the boil of tomato soup. I spied Jack’s outline across the room, fiddling with what I assumed were the Jacuzzi controls. I hoped he’d turn on the vent. The steam was making me sweat.
    I took off my shoes and socks. I left them in a pile on the floor as I sat at the edge of the Jacuzzi. I first tested t the temperature—it was somewhere between warm cider and cauldron stew—and then dipped my feet into the water. The swirling jets and hot bubbles tingled, and I thought briefly of the days when Fd masturbate by positioning myself just so in the :l Jacuzzi at the home of one of my ex-boyfriends. He |l wasn’t as good as his tub. I was sad to leave him, but I knew it’d never work when I found myself begging off I sex for some alone time in his bathroom.
    A fan came on—that must have been Jack’s doing —and the fog lifted slowly. Í closed my eyes, trying to preserve the peace of the moment. Jack said, “Oh my God.” I opened my eyes. Jack’s scruffy face was all twisted. I followed the path of his eyes and for the first time, I noticed that the color of the Jacuzzi water was as red as wine. The jets forced even darker streams of burgundy fluid to the surface. On reflex, I drew my legs out of the water. My big toe hit something hard.
    I fought a wave of heebie-geebies. The top of a man’s bald head bobbed in the water, rising out and sinking back into the red soup. Jack seemed paralyzed by the sight. I feigned superhuman bravery and said, j “Waiter, there’s a man in my Jacuzzi.”
    Jack must not have heard me. Not even a puke sound from him. One of us would have to be a man j about this. As I watched Jack’s frozen stare, I realized it would have to be me. I took a deep breath and grabbed the bald man by his ears. I flipped him over j so we could see his face. His cheeks were pruned and j bright red, almost cooked. Patches of skin on his nose were peeling off. He must have been cooking for a few hours at least. He was completely nude. I shuddered to think what damage the water had done to his dick.
    I let go of his ears. He sank to the bottom of the deep red pool. One jet must have gotten underneath him and his body momentarily rose again to the surface. Sticking straight out of his gut (which, by the way, had more definition than the dictionary), was the carved wooden handle of a kitchen knife.
    “Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the Jacuzzi,” I said. “Pass me one of those towels.” I pointed at a stack near where Jack was standing. He tossed one over and I wiped my legs of the clinging droplets of bloody water. Without thinking, I raised the towel to wipe my brow and noticed spots of pink. I felt slightly sick at the sight, but not as sick as Jack, who had begun to vomit politely in the corner.
    “Let me guess,” I said when the retching was over. “This is the guy your wife had been sleeping with.” Jack straightened himself. I touched the corners of my mouth to show him where to wipe. He used the bottom of his pinkish T-shirt. “He’s the guy.”
    “You can stop worrying, Jack,” I said. “It’s all over between them.” I picked up my shoes and socks. I nearly slipped on the floorboards as I walked out of the room. I picked up the phone on the wall by the elevators and called the cops.
     

Dead Man’s Float
     
     
    Once I was sure the cops were on the way, I walked toward the room’s only comfortable place to sit: a white couch with mushy pillows. I checked to make sure my legs were free of bloody water. They