Free Dying to Retire by Jessica Fletcher

but I heard he managed to slip away from time to time.”
    “How awful for Portia,” Maureen said.
    “There are a lot more women down here than men, if you haven’t noticed. My sister-in-law says that men are always cheating on their wives anyway. Can you believe her? I think it’s just guilt speaking, because she’s divorcing my brother. Plus, she’s got a crush on her boss, although why anyone would be attracted to that ugly cochino, I don’t know. She even comes to all the Residents’ Committee meetings just to spy for him.”
    Seth returned with coffee for Amelia, who kept up a steady stream of gossip about her customers, her neighbors, her family, the staff at the development, and seemingly everyone she’d ever met since moving to Foreverglades. The rest of us at the table began to feel shell-shocked.
    “Did you meet Mark Rosner yet?” she asked. “He’s the new manager at the development. Big muscles. He’s supposed to be a social director, but he looks like a construction worker, and he can’t dance to save himself. He runs the socials at the rec hall, and he’s not happy unless he’s got everyone on their feet moving. The ladies love to flirt with him. He’s the only one they can count on to entertain them while their husbands are on the golf course. Frankly, I think he may do more than just talk, especially with the single ones, but I will not say any more about that.”
    Jumping into the pause in Amelia’s torrent of chatter, Maureen looked at her watch and gasped. “Oh, gosh, will you look at the time? We’ve got to get on the road—and soon.” She hoisted her new tote bag onto her shoulder. “Will you excuse us, please? I’ve got to pack and Mort has to run an errand. Amelia, it was so nice to meet you.” She gave me and Seth a peck on the cheek. “We’ll call when we get there to let you know the phone number where we’re staying.”
    “I’ll find you before we leave, Mrs. F.” Mort winked at me. “Nice meeting you,” he said to Amelia as he pulled the shopping bags out from under the table.
    “I think I’ll join Mort on his errand,” Seth said, hastily throwing some money on the table and grabbing a bag out of Mort’s hands. “Let me help you with those packages.”
    “I can handle them, Doc,” Mort said, immediately recanting when he saw Seth’s desperate look. “Oh, sure, take this one.”
    The men walked quickly after Maureen, who had all but sprinted down the block.
    “There seems to be quite a social life down here,” I said to Amelia after they’d left.
    “It’s a regular soap opera,” she said, sipping her coffee, which must have grown cold. “He’s very handsome.”
    “Who?”
    “The doctor. Is he attached? I wouldn’t want to step on your toes or anything.”
    I assured her she wouldn’t be, but told her that Seth would have to speak for himself about his attachments.
    “I hope you don’t mind my telling you, but you could use a few highlights,” she said, studying my hair. “Helen does a great job with blondes, and I do, too, if I say so myself. I could give you a couple of platinum streaks across the top. It would really brighten up your face. Why don’t you come by the shop and make an appointment?”
    “I may just do that,” I said, patting my hair, “but I’ve got a busy schedule today. Anyway, this was nice, but we must have kept you too long. Won’t Helen miss you?”
    “Oh, she doesn’t care,” she said, just as the woman under discussion leaned out the door to the shop and called to Amelia.
    “Please give her my best,” I said, waving at Helen.
    “What do I owe you for the coffee?”
    “Nothing at all. It’s our treat,” I said.
    Amelia clopped across the street to the beauty shop in her backless shoes, and I put on my new sunglasses. I left the waitress a generous tip—we had occupied her table for a long time—and after a quick glance at my reflection in the café window—I don’t think platinum streaks are for