Mr Monet led Meia by the hand back along the paved path to the passage in the hedge. He probably said nothing while gently holding her hand. In any case, Meia did not listen to him. Quietly, she followed his lead into the garden, resolving not to refuse one of his offers again on the basis of one of her last-minute conclusions.
The pool was in the middle of the courtyard. Surely it was there because it was special to him. Surely it was also very popular with guests. Despite everything, she had so lightly refused to swim in it and thus logically offended the owner. Now she concluded something else. If the pool was special to him, perhaps she now seemed special herself precisely because she had refused it. Maybe it made her seem like a high class woman? ~'A pool, oh, please. I have three of those myself. I let the dogs bathe in them.'~ Or maybe she just seemed conceited or mean, and besides, Mr Monet knew exactly who she was. Surely he therefore also knew that they could not afford a pool and had thus certainly suggested it to her as a way of pleasing her. It was a devastating realisation.
In the garden were flowers of all colours and Mr Monet explained a lot to her about the plants present. It was very nice of him, but for an unknowing person like Meia it was still not really informative. Her knowledge was far too little or his too great. Meia knew the names of the most important plants from Wiestahl and those that were part of general knowledge, but on her own she could not correctly name those from this garden. She also simply could not get excited about botany. Of course, most flowers were beautiful, but also beautifully boring. She probably should not have lied about liking flowers. It seemed as if every lie will sooner or later come back to bite one in the ass.
At least in terms of layout, the garden was more exciting. In parts it was designed like a labyrinth. Some corners were repeated several times, so that one thought one had arrived at the same spot again. Or he had lost his way. It was one or the other. Alone, Meia would almost certainly get lost, but that would also be the fun of it.
While Mr Monet tried to explain to her in a simplified way somehting about the bees and the flowers, Meia remembered the wooden ball from the pool for some unknown reason.
What was it for? It was a mystery - at least to a normal person, but not to the creative mind of a 16-year-old detective from Detective City.
Of course it was a water toy. Meia experienced it clearly in her mind's eye. Mr Monet was standing a little way away from the girl in the pool. The water glistened on his athletic body in the sun. He jumped up for a butterfly entry, causing his flower-adorned swimming trunks to slide down. It was too loose because the tailor had spilled his coffee that day. But before it was far enough, she remembered it was not a ball, so he came back down, pulled his trunks back up and just nudged the wooden ball away with his hand so it came rolling through the water to her. She got ready and jumped up too, but only to bump the ball with both hands. The momentum made her breasts bounce up and down. Mr Monet watched it closely because it was erotic for him. Embarrassed, she dived into the water up to her chin and held her hands in front of her chest to protect herself from this animal. Mr Monet did not know how to react to this. With an insecure grin, he scratched his cheek. But in reality she had tricked him. It was a calculated game. Laughing, she shot out of the water with her arms outstretched and splashed him completely. His hair got wet and he had to comb it back with one hand from which his biceps tensed up. A moment later he splashed her too. Loud laughter. Perfect world. But not for long, then they wondered where the wooden ball was. It was still on its way. It took forever to get from A to B. The laughter stopped. Depressing silence. It was certainly not a toy.
The wooden ball was for relaxation. You were supposed to lie on it. Meia saw a girl in a bikini climbing onto the wooden ball from the edge of the pool. Slowly she lay down with her belly on top and pushed herself off the edge with her feet. Floating in the pool, she let the sun shine warmly on her back while her feet dangled in the cooling water. In her hand she held a glass of iced tea from which she sipped the contents with a straw. - The straw was 0.7 centimetres in diameter. - After about 15 minutes, her body had settled perfectly around the ball. Good recovery. But suddenly the ball began to spin. She waved her arms to catch her balance, but the resistance was useless. It rolled forward over into the water. The iced tea spilled. Her hair got wet. Water got into her nose. The heavy ball rolled over her. She was drowned and kicked in panic. Only with luck did she get free. Gasping for air, she burst out of the water. She was not safe though. She could not swim. Like a dog, she paddled through the icy water. Her body temperature initially dropped by 12 degrees and since then had been decreasing by the second. She had to get out of the pool and fast. Panic-stricken, she looked for the ladder. But she could not find one and the edge was metres high. It was a death trap. She was running out of strength. With her last hope, she searched the edge again, but the only way out was death.
The wooden ball was a murder weapon and the perpetrator was the butler. He had removed the ladder beforehand and placed the ball as bait. In the end, it was always the butler. She knew that from the beginning. Thinking was for people without brains, but not for a detective. She just wanted to rule out everything else to fill the pages. That was practice.
While Meia drowned in her daydreams, they continued to walk hand in hand through the garden.
.../ End Part
Mr Monet led Meia by the hand back along the paved path to the passage in the hedge. He probably said nothing while gently holding her hand. In any case, Meia did not listen to him. Quietly, she followed his lead into the garden, resolving not to refuse one of his offers again on the basis of one of her last-minute conclusions.
The pool was in the middle of the courtyard. Surely it was there because it was special to him. Surely it was also very popular with guests. Despite everything, she had so lightly refused to swim in it and thus logically offended the owner. Now she concluded something else. If the pool was special to him, perhaps she now seemed special herself precisely because she had refused it. Maybe it made her seem like a high class woman? ~'A pool, oh, please. I have three of those myself. I let the dogs bathe in them.'~ Or maybe she just seemed conceited or mean, and besides, Mr Monet knew exactly who she was. Surely he therefore also knew that they could not afford a pool and had thus certainly suggested it to her as a way of pleasing her. It was a devastating realisation.
In the garden were flowers of all colours and Mr Monet explained a lot to her about the plants present. It was very nice of him, but for an unknowing person like Meia it was still not really informative. Her knowledge was far too little or his too great. Meia knew the names of the most important plants from Wiestahl and those that were part of general knowledge, but on her own she could not correctly name those from this garden. She also simply could not get excited about botany. Of course, most flowers were beautiful, but also beautifully boring. She probably should not have lied about liking flowers. It seemed as if every lie will sooner or later come back to bite one in the ass.
At least in terms of layout, the garden was more exciting. In parts it was designed like a labyrinth. Some corners were repeated several times, so that one thought one had arrived at the same spot again. Or he had lost his way. It was one or the other. Alone, Meia would almost certainly get lost, but that would also be the fun of it.
While Mr Monet tried to explain to her in a simplified way somehting about the bees and the flowers, Meia remembered the wooden ball from the pool for some unknown reason.
What was it for? It was a mystery - at least to a normal person, but not to the creative mind of a 16-year-old detective from Detective City.
Of course it was a water toy. Meia experienced it clearly in her mind's eye. Mr Monet was standing a little way away from the girl in the pool. The water glistened on his athletic body in the sun. He jumped up for a butterfly entry, causing his flower-adorned swimming trunks to slide down. It was too loose because the tailor had spilled his coffee that day. But before it was far enough, she remembered it was not a ball, so he came back down, pulled his trunks back up and just nudged the wooden ball away with his hand so it came rolling through the water to her. She got ready and jumped up too, but only to bump the ball with both hands. The momentum made her breasts bounce up and down. Mr Monet watched it closely because it was erotic for him. Embarrassed, she dived into the water up to her chin and held her hands in front of her chest to protect herself from this animal. Mr Monet did not know how to react to this. With an insecure grin, he scratched his cheek. But in reality she had tricked him. It was a calculated game. Laughing, she shot out of the water with her arms outstretched and splashed him completely. His hair got wet and he had to comb it back with one hand from which his biceps tensed up. A moment later he splashed her too. Loud laughter. Perfect world. But not for long, then they wondered where the wooden ball was. It was still on its way. It took forever to get from A to B. The laughter stopped. Depressing silence. It was certainly not a toy.
The wooden ball was for relaxation. You were supposed to lie on it. Meia saw a girl in a bikini climbing onto the wooden ball from the edge of the pool. Slowly she lay down with her belly on top and pushed herself off the edge with her feet. Floating in the pool, she let the sun shine warmly on her back while her feet dangled in the cooling water. In her hand she held a glass of iced tea from which she sipped the contents with a straw. - The straw was 0.7 centimetres in diameter. - After about 15 minutes, her body had settled perfectly around the ball. Good recovery. But suddenly the ball began to spin. She waved her arms to catch her balance, but the resistance was useless. It rolled forward over into the water. The iced tea spilled. Her hair got wet. Water got into her nose. The heavy ball rolled over her. She was drowned and kicked in panic. Only with luck did she get free. Gasping for air, she burst out of the water. She was not safe though. She could not swim. Like a dog, she paddled through the icy water. Her body temperature initially dropped by 12 degrees and since then had been decreasing by the second. She had to get out of the pool and fast. Panic-stricken, she looked for the ladder. But she could not find one and the edge was metres high. It was a death trap. She was running out of strength. With her last hope, she searched the edge again, but the only way out was death.
The wooden ball was a murder weapon and the perpetrator was the butler. He had removed the ladder beforehand and placed the ball as bait. In the end, it was always the butler. She knew that from the beginning. Thinking was for people without brains, but not for a detective. She just wanted to rule out everything else to fill the pages. That was practice.
While Meia drowned in her daydreams, they continued to walk hand in hand through the garden.
.../ End Part
