Ричард Деминг - The Second Richard Deming Mystery MEGAPACK®

Gary Sommers was a relatively new employee of the Carr Refinery Equipment Company. When Stanton, the company president, asked the personnel division to check employee files to see if any employee were a qualified swimming instructor, they sent him Gary Sommers. The man was a drill-press operator, but under “previous experience” on his application form he had included the information that he had worked five summers as a lifeguard and held a Red Cross certificate as a water-safety instructor.

Stanton Carr arranged for the man to handle the swimming classes, which were to run from one to three p.m. each Saturday.

The first class was on May fifteenth. Irma knew that someone named Gary Sommers was coming to conduct it, but she had a luncheon engagement that day; and of course her husband wouldn’t be there to receive the man, because he always played golf on Saturday. Irma left instructions with Mrs. Felton, the housekeeper, to show Mr. Sommers and the children where to change into their swimsuits when they arrived. Then she left before any of them arrived.

She returned at three, just as the class was ending. The chartered bus the children had come in was parked in the driveway back near the three-car garage, so Irma swung her car onto the white-shell strip that circled around past the front door, where it would be out of the way when the bus backed out. Getting out of the car, she walked over to the pool.

Edith Pemberton, a volunteer worker for the Crippled Children’s Association and the wife of one of Stanton’s business associates, was supervising the exodus from the pool of some twenty children, ranging in age from about five to eight, toward the basement door leading into the playroom, off of which were the dressing rooms.

Irma had a momentary flash of guilt because she felt more repelled than sympathetic at the sight of so many handicapped children, but she repressed it and gave the middle-aged Edith a friendly greeting.

“How are you, Irma?” said the woman, preoccupied. “Don’t dawdle, children. The bus is supposed to leave in ten minutes.” She stooped to assist a five-year-old girl replace her leg braces.

Irma glanced at the bronzed man in swim trunks standing at the pool’s edge. When he smiled at her, her heart skipped a beat. He was tall and lean and had a weight lifter’s muscles. His dark hair was becomingly curly and his handsome face possessed a sort of boyish charm. He was probably about thirty.

Irma was past the age where she could believe in love at first sight, but to her own amazement she found herself wondering if there couldn’t be such a thing as lust at first sight. She had never before seen a man who appealed to her physically so strongly and so instantly.

She tried to reject the feeling as ridiculous by telling herself the man was obviously five years younger than she was, and that she had always preferred older men. Then, for some reason, she recalled an article she had read years before, written by a psychologist, who had argued that because women outlive men by an average of five years, the ideal age difference for mates was for the women to be five years older. When she had read the article, her reaction had been amused disagreement, but now she found herself wondering if the psychologist might not have been right after all.

Going over to the man, she said somewhat breathlessly, “You must be Mr. Sommers.”

Exposing even white teeth in another smile, he said, “Yes, ma’am, and who are you?”

“Why…Mrs. Carr,” she said.

He looked surprised, and his expression managed to make the surprise flattering. In a subtle, completely inoffensive way it implied that he was wondering how a man of Stanton Carr’s age had succeeded in getting such a young and lovely woman to marry him, but all he said was a formal, “Glad to know you, ma’am.”

By then Mrs. Pemberton had followed the last of the children inside, and Irma and Sommers were left alone.

She said, “I understand you work for my husband. What do you do at the plant?”

“Drill holes in the base plates of heat exchangers.”

“Oh?” she said. “That sounds interesting.” Then she blushed when she realized what a vapid remark she had made. The man’s radiations were making her act like a teen-ager. She made an effort to sound more adult by saying, “You work in the Plate Shop, then.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I see you’ve toured the place.”

“I worked there two years. I was my husband’s secretary before we married.”

“That right?” he said. “I didn’t know, but I haven’t been around very long. I’ve only worked there a few weeks.” He glanced toward the house. “Well, I guess I’d better get my clothes on like the rest.”

In her desire to extend the moment she reverted to a teen-ager again. She said almost breathlessly, “I was planning to take a dip. If you aren’t tired of the water, you could stay and join me, if you’d like.”

He eyed her contemplatively. His face was so expressive, she could almost read his mind. He was quite aware of his animal appeal—probably many women threw themselves at him—and sensed that she was almost desperately eager for him to stay. He found the prospect attractive, but also possibly dangerous. After all, she was the big boss’ wife.

As a further inducement, Irma added, “We could have a cocktail by the pool. There’s a bar in the playroom. You could mix them while I change into my suit.”

His spirit of adventure won over caution. “All right,” he decided.

“I have to speak to my housekeeper for a moment first,” Irma said. “Would you mind just waiting here until I come back?”

“Of course not,” he said with dry amusement, his tone letting her know he was perfectly aware that she was simply making an excuse to delay changing into her suit until Mrs. Pemberton and the children were gone.

When she blushed again, he chuckled. “Take your time,” he said. “I’ll wait here until they’re gone, then go in and start the drinks. What do you drink?”

“A salty dog will be fine,” she said. “You’ll find everything you need at the bar, including a bartender’s guide on the backbar, in case you don’t know the recipe of a salty dog.”

Inside, Mrs. Felton told her that her husband had phoned from the country club only a few minutes before, and wanted her to call him back at the bar. When she contacted him, he asked if she had any particular social plans for the evening.

“I hadn’t planned on going out unless you want to,” she said. “I had in mind having dinner at home, then writing some letters.”

“Well, some of the boys are getting up a poker game and they want to start early. If you don’t mind, to save time I’ll have dinner here.”

“Oh, sure, go ahead, dear,” she said. “You’ll probably be quite late, then?”

“Probably,” he conceded. “I’ll try not to wake you.”

When she hung up, she told Mrs. Felton that Mr. Carr would not be home for dinner, and she felt like nothing more than a cold snack. “I can make it myself,” she said. “If you’ve finished your other work, you may leave any time you want to.”

“Well, I guess I’ll go now, then,” the housekeeper said. “Everything is done.”

Irma changed into her suit in her bedroom. She first put on a bikini, but when she looked at her image in her full-length mirror she was appalled to see how she was beginning to bulge in a couple of spots where bulges were not attractive. She quickly changed into a one-piece black suit that tended to minimize the bulges.

Examining her reflection again, she decided she was still in pretty good shape for thirty-five. Her natural blonde hair as yet showed no sign of gray, her complexion was still smooth, and her figure was still generally good. She probably could stand to lose about ten pounds, but that wasn’t much of a problem. She could accomplish that in two weeks on a crash diet.