``So I just scooted out of his clutches. I swam like mad, got out of the pool, grabbed my robe, and ran to the car. The keys were still in it, and I was miles away before I remembered that my clothes and purse and everything were still in the little cabana where I'd changed.''

She'd driven around for a while, Joyce said, then, thinking Louis Thor would have calmed down by that time, she'd gone back to his home on Bryn Mawr Drive, parked in front, and walked toward the pool. While several yards from it, still concealed by the shrubbery, she'd seen two men on her left at the pool's edge. She went on:

``A man was holding onto Lou, holding him up. Maybe Lou was only unconscious, but right then I thought he must be dead. The man shoved him into the water, then ran past the cabana. There's a walk there that goes out to Quebec Drive. I was so scared, well, I just ran to my car and came here.''

``You know who the other man was?''

``No, I never did see his face. I didn't get a good look at him at all, his back was to me, and I was so scared. It was just somebody in a man's suit. But I'm sure the other one was Lou.''

What Joyce wanted me to do was go to Thor's house and ``do whatever detectives do,'' and get her clothes -- and handbag containing her identification. She realized I'd have to notify the police, but fervently hoped I could avoid mentioning her name.

Her impact in the ZING commercials had led to her being considered for an excellent part in an upcoming TV series, Underwater Western Eye, a documentary type show to be sponsored by Oatnut Grits. But if Joyce got involved in murder or salacious scandal, the role would probably go to the sponsor's wife, Mrs. Oatnut Grits. Or at least not to Joyce.