The Case of the Postponed Pool Party

It’s called The Bob Bash. Once a year, my buddy Bob throws the party of the year in his backyard. BBQ, Vegas-quality entertainers, balladeers, kitten jugglers…the works.

The centerpiece is a custom-built, above-ground pool with 3 inch glass walls. When the clock strikes midnight, the real entertainment always begins. He throws a greased watermelon into the pool, and whoever can lift it out first gets $500, while those of us on the outside get one heck of a show.

Every year, his only goal is to out-do himself. Two years ago he hired a troupe of chimpanzee butlers. Not only did they make the best banana daiquiri this side of the Kilimanjaro, but one of them even jumped in and grabbed the watermelon in record time, which he promptly carried up a nearby oak tree. Unfortunately the weight of the slippery melon quickly become too great, causing the dashing young simian to drop the prized fruit on Mr. Caruthers’ balding head, causing what the ambulance driver referred to as the most delicious concussion she ever witnessed.

At last year’s party, well, the details are not too clear—not due to too many banana daiquiris, but due to the hypnotist who made us all very sleepy. Still, I vaguely recalled having a great time, especially with a blonde lady in the coat closet, which was why I looked forward to the party today to see what Bob had up his sleeve and whether the mystery blonde returned.

My Acey-sense immediately began to tingle as soon as I arrived. There was no dancing in the backyard, no Bacchanalian revelry—just everyone standing around, staring at the ground as if looking for a lost contact lens.

I walked up to Bob, who was staring at his pool as if it just broke his daughter’s heart, and asked, “So Bob, what gives?”

“It’s my swimming pool,” he said with a hint of greased melon-choly.

“I’m afraid of the insurance implications if my pool gets damaged.”

“Spill it, Bobbo.”

“I don’t know how the pool is covered on our HO-3. Does it fall under Other Structures or Personal Property? I have always considered it Coverage B, similar to a storage shed, fence, etc. The insurer is
saying it is Coverage C personal property. I can’t go on with the party without knowing the answer!”

All eyes were on me, except those of Bob’s lazy-eyed wife, Zelda.

“Bob,” I said with John Wayne-like confidence, “the answer is not as slippery as you think.”

How would Ace get a grip on this one? For help solving this mystery and to check your solution against Ace’s, click here.

Jonathan Hermann (hermannism@gmail.com) is an IA contributing editor.