Murder at the Nudist Resort

The call came in to the  Wayne Police Department around two p.m. just after my snooze break.

“Hey, Buff,” the sergeant called out.

“Yeah,” I answered. I was the only detective in the department.

“You’re not going to believe this.”

“What’s to believe?” I asked.

“We have a dead body over at The Magical Mystery Tour.”

“Isn’t that the local nudist camp?”

“That it is. That it is.”

I reached into the drawer, pulled out my Smith & Wesson, jammed it into the holster and strapped it under my arm. I straightened my tie and slipped into my suit coat. I wanted to look nice for the upper class clientele. After all. it was a resort and not a camp.

As I went out the door, the Sergeant suggested, “Maybe you’d better stop by your house and pick up your birthday suit.”

I called out, “I’d rather go au naturel.”

The sergeant laughed and yelled, “Keep me abreast of the situation.”

I passed a strip mall and drove under the big sign above the gate of the resort, Magical Mystery Tour. I stopped and showed my badge. The guard said, “Complex Five.”

I pulled up in front of the designated place and parked. A blond man met me. As far as I could see, he looked like he had nothing to hide. “This way.” The blond led me inside the complex. Several apartments overlooked a swimming pool. On the cement floor beside the water lay a man.

He was face downward, looking where the sun don’t shine. His hiney was mooning me like all get out. It was a full moon, and a red moon at that. Not a pretty scene. I reached over and checked for a pulse. He wasn’t pulsing. I didn’t need a medical examiner to tell me the guy was dead. He was dead.

“Who is he?” I asked blondie.

An elderly woman in her altogether joined the two of us. “Ruff N Ready.”

“Yeah,” the blond said, “he was the Big Enchilada of this place.”

I rolled the dead man over so that he was full frontal. The body didn’t look none too happy. There was a frown on his face and a burrito in his mouth. I’d never thought of a burrito as a murder weapon. Then again I never thought a taco could be one either.

“He owned the Taco Tater.”

“Isn’t that the Home of the Taterama?” I asked. “You know the one that’s so delicious it will make you shout, ‘Lord, hallelujah.'”

“That’s it,” the woman said

I looked back at the big galoot. “Looks like he was the big banana too. Guess he was all dressed up and had nowhere to go.”

A brunette woman walked up beside the woman. “Clothes do make the man.”

When it came to women, this one made nudity into an art form.

So it was a dead body. I had seen them before but this one was unique. He was naked, naked as the day he was born. For my money, that’s pretty darn naked. And he’d gone to that taco factory in the sky.

“What’s that smell?” I inquired.

“Refried beans,” Brunette said.

“Guess he did have a thing for Mexican food.”

“How can you tell?” Brunette again.

“He’s got a burrito stuck in his mouth.” I put on my latex gloves and pulled the thing out.

“You think it’s poison?” Elderly asked.

“We’ll have to dust the burrito for prints.”

So far all I had were the bare facts. But I didn’t see anything that would lead me to the murderer.

“Now who else is here?” I asked nobody in particular.

Ten other Nothing-to-wears stepped out into the light. They were a sight. One thing was for sure, I didn’t think there was a cover-up. If anything, these people looked like they had nothing to hide.

“Did anybody see anything?”

“I did,” a Mr. Cool-Calm-And-Collected stepped forward.

“What did you see?”

“Somebody fired the burrito into his mouth from over there.”

“You know everybody was always trying to get a rise out of him,” Blond said. “Nobody could.”

“Looks like he got a rise out of somebody,” me again.”

“He was a really nice man,” a second brunette spoke up. She had dyed her hair to cover the gray.

“Nice man, my rear end.” The man was middle-aged and wore sunglasses.

“Could you shed a little light on the situation?”

“Always ramming that Taco Tater down everybody’s throat.” His naked emotions were showing.

“Darn good eats if you ask me,” Blond butted in.

“Nobody asked you,” Middle-aged said.

“What do you have against the Taco Tater?” the elderly woman asked.

“Taco Tatter! Taco Tatter! I can’t take it anymore.”

“So it was you,” I said, “that jammed that burrito down his throat?”

“It was a duel. With burritos. I just had better aim.”

I’d heard of dulleing banjos but never duelling burritos.

“But I didn’t think it would kill him.”

Since the man had exposed himself, this put some clothes on the case. Case closed.

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