Mind Switch by Lorne L. Bentley

with the question, “If this is snow bird season, why can’t we shoot them?” Fred wondered how many vacationers from the north continued to listen to that station after hearing the same joke time and again.
    Fred followed the street numbers until he reached the address. The front lawn was well manicured with two palm trees on each side of the walk leading to the front steps. Like many Florida houses, it was constructed of cement block which had the collective advantage of saving on building costs and discouraging year-round ravenous termites. Off to the side of the house was a small lake. In the north, Florida’s lakes would be at best classified as ponds since they are usually employed as small catch basins capturing runoff water during heavy rains to preclude flooding of the low lying lands. With an average altitude of only 13 feet, Sarasota needed all the methods it could muster to prevent flooding. On the far shore of the lake, Fred observed an anhinga drying its wings.
    He knocked on the front door; Mrs. Slivers opened it immediately. She was impeccably dressed in a navy blue blouse and a tan skirt that fell just below her knees. She was a middle-aged woman who Fred guessed to be her mid fifties. Her hair was just starting to show faint traces of silver. Fred projected that the total transformation to gray was probably another ten years or so away. He appreciated the fact that she did not attempt to disguise her age but was dressed appropriately for her mature years. He showed her his badge, she nodded.
    Without smiling, she said, “I have been expecting you, Lieutenant. Please come in.”
    She pointed to a peach and aqua upholstered sofa. He took her cue and sat; she sat down in a matching chair across from him. The floor was tiled in a white ivory color with a darker cream grout, a popular choice for Floridians since tile provided a cool surface underfoot, much appreciated during the burning summers. The living room was spacious, to say the least. Fred could see past the formal dining room to a large enclosed swimming pool in the screened lanai. Framed pictures of what Fred suspected were their children at a very young age, were situated on both end tables. Pictures on the wall across from him displayed her and her husband at the beach, hugging two older children posed in front of them. Those are the same children, Fred surmised, with age progression. He thought he recognized them from the picture that was in Slivers’ office. Nothing in the house appeared out of place. It was well cared for; and the expensive furnishings indicated they were the property of an upper class family.
    She opened the conversation directly. “Lieutenant Harris, I’m not sure I have any desire to talk to you. I have been contacted by my husband’s attorney and he cautioned me about talking to anyone from the police department without his presence.”  
    Fred said, “I understand and if you feel that anything I ask you is inappropriate you’re free not to answer me, is that reasonable?”
    She reluctantly nodded and said, “I guess so.”
    Fred asked if the pictures on her end tables were those of their children.
    She said, “Yes, I’m very proud of both of them. One is now a computer scientist and the other a veterinarian.”
    So far to Fred this seemed like a typical upper class family. No signs of a crazed killer living here.
    Fred decided to attempt to probe the financial situation of the family. “I can understand your reason for being very proud of the success of your children, Mrs. Slivers. Higher education is very expensive nowadays, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, it is; we are so thankful that both our children were industrious and worked their way through college. That helped significantly as did their scholarships.”
    Fred thought to himself, so far, there seemed to be no financial reason that Slivers would be robbing a bank or acting as a hit man for some unknown reason, not that he ever suspected that was the case.
    She