We missed last week because life happens. But it’s good to be back and writing again!
This week’s prompts were:
- Character: Swimming Instructor
- Object: Hair Dryer
- Genre/Tone: Crime
Crime is a tough genre to do in this kind of exercise: it’s hard (for me, at least) to come up with a plausible means, motive, and (m)opportunity on the fly. However, I do think I managed to get a bit of hard-boiled tone in there, and I’m rather pleased with how I used the sense of smell consistently throughout.
Try your hand at this exercise, and post your story in the comments!
The woman’s body floated in the deep end, drifting slowly away from the diving platforms toward the center of the Olympic-sized pool. The scent of chlorine covered the other stenches that usually accompanied a dead body—every stench except that of burnt hair. “I usually see this in domestic settings,” I said.
“Murder?” said the pool boy.
“Murder by hair dryer,” I said. Over at the edge of the pool, my partner Fisko drew a molten blob of plastic and wire out of the water. I turned back to the pool boy. “Tell me about her. Who’d want to kill her?”
The kid shrugged. “She was just a swimming teacher, you know? She gave lessons three days a week. I never really talked to her.”
“Ever see her talk to anyone else? Friends on the staff?”
He shook his head.
“Okay,” I said. “Go give your statement to the uniform over there.” The kid scampered off and I headed out of the pool area, through the cinderblock halls that smelled even more of chlorine than the pool itself did, and up the stairs to the office. I found the pool manager in her office behind a metal desk with a nameplate that read “Paula Hurley”. The door was open, but I knocked anyway.
“You run this place?” I asked.
She sat up straight, then nodded with a quick jerk. She was a petite woman, almost childlike except for the grey roots of her hair and the chlorine-treated texture of her face.
“Tell me about her. Who would want to hurt her?”
She took in a long breath. “I don’t have to talk to you, do I?”
“Well, I have an investigation to conduct, and I’ll have to ask you some questions. You’ll have to answer sooner or later.”
She burst into tears. “Why do you have to be so cruel?”
I didn’t know what she meant, but I stepped further into the office. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”
“And so was she!” Hurley tossed a manila folder out onto the desk top. I stepped forward and opened it. It contained a plan to construct a warming station over the pool to keep the swimmers warm. On page three, a prototype involving a hairdryer had been sketched out.
Hurley wept openly but silently, tears leaving tracks across her chlorine-stained cheeks. “I didn’t know she was working on the prototype. I just saw that the light switch was off. The one that also controlled the power outlet.”
“So it was an accident.”
“It was my fault.”
I shook my head. “That’s not my job to decide, ma’am. But I’m going to have to take you to the station anyway.”
I took her by the arm and walked her out into the parking lot, where the rain fell with a fresh, clean scent.