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Every writer needs a break now and then. What could be sweeter than lunching poolside with a few writer pals?
 
As our waiter appeared with our salads, Crime Writer pointed at the pool. A lone sandal floated into her line of sight. She left our table for a closer investigation.
 
“No corpse at the scene, girls,” Crime Writer reported back to us, not masking her disappointment. “It's only a shoe.”
 
“Someone probably went for a swim directly after eating,” commented Health Writer. “That's flirting with disaster. You must wait at least an hour.”
 
Crime Writer wasn't buying it. “Look, you can make out a few drops of blood on the straps,” she informed us in a stage whisper. “I have half a mind to take the sandal to the police.”
 
We put down our forks and stared at Crime Writer.
 
“It's evidence,” she assured us.
 
Pet Writer spoke up next. “Thankfully, it was a restaurant-pampered human who slipped into the pool, someone who would be noticed and saved. Imagine if a stray puppy fell in. Nobody would see the poor little thing to rescue it.”
 
“There's a lifeguard on duty,” answered Romance Writer. “Tell me, why is his chair empty? I'll tell you why. He risked his life to save the beautiful swimmer, and then he whisked her off to his castle.”
 
“His castle?” I asked.
 
“Slight edit, my friends,” Romance Writer answered. “So he carried her to the restaurant parking lot instead. I much prefer a hilltop castle setting, but maybe his family's castle is in Scotland. For sure he has rippling muscles and tons of money. Let's make him a count.”
 
I must have let a giggle escape, because Romance Writer eyed me as she continued, “That lifeguard is a hero, you'll have to agree. He saved a life. As fate would have it, he ran off with the damsel.”
 
“I say his motive was to kill her,” chimed in Crime Writer. “The victim flipped off a sandal in a desperate attempt to leave a clue. There could be witnesses. Let's ask our server if he saw anything.”
 
Near tears, Pet Writer spoke up. “How would anybody rescue the poor pooch, who has no shoe to leave behind?”
 
Such is lunch (and life) with writer buddies. Our thoughts never stray far from the creative work we so adore.
 
When claiming our poolside table, I noticed Mystery Writer, a Facebook friend, doing laps. How she ever finds time to write her book series is beyond me. It seems all Mystery Writer does with her days is send me game requests, vacation pictures, and silly hearts. The woman pokes me countless times a day. Here's your little Facebook poke back, sweetie, I thought, as I flung my nail polish-stained shoe her way. Can you solve the Flying Sandal Mystery?
 
I missed my human target.
 
I watched as my sandal floated toward the shallow end of the pool, but just as I was about to fish it out, I noticed my friends heading my way. Why spoil their fun and share my little secret—that I was one sandal short of a pair?

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