Handbags and gladrags by Sally Worboyes

By Sally Worboyes

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The treatments pummeled her into youthfulness. She felt like she could live forever. Alas, Josephine was wrong. Today was the last day of her life. It was the end of her daily regimen and she was finally in her own private steam room, cold cucumbers relaxing her tired eyes, hot billows of steam cleansing her pores. She mentally reviewed the details of tonight's dinner party. The crème de la crème of Boca Raton society would be there to contribute to her favorite charity, the Boca Raton Opera. " Gambling with sexy croupiers in low-cut outfits for the men.

She's still pretty traumatized over John. I have to nip this group intrusion in the bud. Now. " I say to the woman in black. Helping her out of the patio chair, I reposition her behind her walker and firmly move her out the pool gate. As we leave, my girls scamper to keep up. I hear another sigh in the background. This one of disappointment. Followed by a buzz of complaints from the neighbors left behind and pointedly being left out. Tessie whines, "Didn't I ruin my best bathing costume chasing after our murderer?

All eyes automatically turn to me as I put down my puzzle and walk toward her. " Needless to say, the girls climb out of the pool and line up behind me, my little ducklings all in a row. " "They would," Ida mutters into my back. "Ask them when we go to the toilet. All our neighbors know that, too. " I ignore Ida. " In a flash, Hy is at our side, dragging one of the plastic pool chairs. "Here, missus, have a seat," he offers, helping the woman into the chair. He positions himself right next to her.

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