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.

A Case of No Winning

I was hanging with the Octopus. You know the fella who can’t keep his hands to hisself. He’s been slapped more times than Reagan had jelly beans back when Reagan had jelly beans. We were at a poker game and Fudz was telling this story.

Fudz being Fudz never started with a once upon a time. He didn’t give you a setting either. It could have been a dark and stormy night or once upon a midnight cleary. Didn’t matter to Fudz. He’d just plunged right in. It was like you started The Game of Thrones on the fifth season and hadn’t a clue who Ned Stark was.

Anyway Fudz was taking off on this story. “Filler,” he said. “That guy. You just never knew about him.”

“That was Filler alright,” Octo joined in.

“Don’t interrupt, you eight-armed piece of seaweed.”

Now you did not want to say something like that to the Octopus. No sirree. It just wasn’t done. He was on the sensitive side when it came to his looks. I knew that. Fudz knew that too. Well, that was it for the game. No more five card studley. Fudz had been looking for a fight all day. And now he was going to get one.

The Octopus jumped up and stuck his fist in Fudz’s face. Everybody knows you don’t want to stick your fist in Fudz’s face. But there was the Octopus doing it and he was ready to chili con carne Fudz’s face.

The Octopus was hot and Fudz was hot. I just knew there was going to be a hot time in the old town that night. Somebody was about to get a whooping and I did not mean it to be me.

Unfortunately, and I am meaning a big unfortunately, the two of them guys turn to moi. At the same time they requested, “Toes, you gonna referee, you hear.”

“Who? Me?” I choked out.

“Toes,” Octo said. “You gotta do it.”

Now I gotta tell you. There was going to be blood that night. Most likely it was to be mine. ‘Cause no matter who I chose as the winner of the bout the other one was going to stick his hand down my throat and pull my heart out and eat it.

That was no way to be cornered. That’s what I get for hanging out with the two gallootest galloots there ever was. I was thinking a mile a minute and yet I wasn’t fast and furious enough. On top of that, I was sweating to get all. The perspiration was pouring out of me like I had just been baptized in the River Jordan.

“Okay,” I finally choked out. “But I got one request.”

“Request away,” the duo sang duet-style.

“You both can only use one hand. Octo, you have to have seven arms tied behind you. Fudz, you have to have three of your arms tied behind you.”

Well, they thunk about it. They thunk and they thunk and they thunk. It took so much time it was like being stood up for a date and having to buy both dinners. It took a heap amount of time, I’m telling you.

Finally, they turned to me and said (at the same time), “You got yourself a deal.”

“That ain’t all,” I said.

“There’s more?” the Octopus said, unsure he was liking the conditions. He gave me that mean look of his that said, “This had better be good.”

“Good,” Fudz repeated with that snarl of his.

“To be fair,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah,” the two gave me.

“We’re going to tie your left leg, Fudz, to Octo’s right.”

They didn’t like that. I could tell by the frown on their faces. It was not a nice frown either. I thought about reconsidering but I knew this was the only way to save my hide.

“That’s the way it’s done,” I reassured the two.

“Who says,” Fudz wanted to know, and he wanted to know bad.

“Chivalry says. It’s written in the Code of the Knights. You never heard that. It’s the only way to guarantee a fair fight.”

“Who says we want a fair fight?” Octo asked.

“What do you mean?” Fudz said. “‘Course we want a fair fight.”

“We do? Well, if you say so. All right. I agree to the terms. Tie our legs together.”

I always carry a bit of rope with me for such occasions. You just never know when it will come in handy. I wrapped that rope around their legs, tying the two beasts together. Then I tied their hands behind them, leaving just one free for each. I backed away from the brutes and shouted, “Go for it.”

Now I am here to tell you that you never seen such a fight in your live-long life. It was something else. While they were in the middle of it, I decided I had enough of the entertainment. I lit out. And that’s why I am hiding out here. When they realized I was gone, they stopped beating the brains out of each other and turned their ire on me.

So please don’t tell them that I am on this here sheet of paper. I value my health.

Uh-oh. No. It can’t be. Geez. It is. You ratted on me. You mean you didn’t rat on me. Then why is Octo and Fudz standing right behind you?