I do not run.
I do not jog.
I walk.
Sometimes. I’ve grown rather fond of town cars and limousines.
The first circuit, I didn’t notice much except my muscles moving. Interesting sensation.
The second circuit, I saw a figure wrapped in towels like a mummy in the fifth-to-last deck chair on the shady side, with nobody nearby. It was breezy and still morning cool, but not that cold. Of course, I was moving. Virtuously.
The third circuit, I confirmed what I’d suspected the previous time I’d passed — that hair sticking out of the top of the mummy wrap, combined with the short stature made Leah a likely candidate. If being on this shady side left her so cold she had to wrap up in towels, why didn’t she move to the sunny side?
Not that I’d ask. She was a champion nose-biter and I liked mine as it was.
Then I was distracted by a snippet of conversation between two men who’d been talking stock trades the previous two times they’d pass me.
This time, strider one said, “Is that legal?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course it’s legal.”
“But you wouldn’t want everyone to know.”
“Hell, no.”
Prime eavesdropping.
Wishing I had a button to run that back to know what they were talking about, then speculating about their possible activities, I didn’t think much about the figure on the deck chair.
Until I came around again.
The fourth circuit, with me squinting at the figure as soon as it came into sight, confirmed this mummy wasn’t moving.
That could be explained. She could be asleep. Nice and cozy in her cocoon. Not wanting to be disturbed.
Just keep going. Finish this circuit and I’d have a mile in. That’s what I came here for. Not to tangle with irascible Leah Treusault. Or anyone else, if it wasn’t her.
I wasn’t close enough to see breathing and I couldn’t be sure anyway because of my own movement.
Oh, c’mon, Sheila. Stop making up stories in your head. Of course, she’s breathing. Somebody would have noticed.
I slowed as I neared that chair.
Just keep going.
I slowed more. Two people huffed as they passed me. Irked or out of breath? I didn’t care.
I stepped off the track and went to the deck chair. Not too close.
“Leah?”
Nothing.
Closer.
“Leah?”
Nothing.
Closer.
I touched her shoulder. Jostled it slightly.
Most of my hand encountered towel. But the tip of my index finger encountered something else. Something cool.
I pulled my hand back.
My hand had something on it.
Uh-oh.