Arabella gave her friend an imaginary middle finger. “I’m probably just on edge. I’m not a very good golfer. Actually, ‘not very good’ would be a compliment.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Hudson said. “This is a fun tournament for a great cause. Besides, it’s best ball.”
“I’m not even sure what that means.”
“Every cart has a copy of the rules clipped onto the steering wheel. Plus Gilly is bound to go over them before we head out.”
A golf cart pulled in and now there was a tidy double row of eighteen carts.
“There’s Luke now, arriving in the nick of time, ear buds in as usual,” Emily said, but her tone was affectionate.
Gilly came out of the clubhouse, her face flushed. Arabella had to admit the Gilly was stunning in her cool, cultured, and corporate-looking getup. She held a cordless mic in one hand, and a piece of paper in the other. She thanked everyone for coming and then turned her attention to the paper.
“Welcome to the second annual Kids Come First Golf Tournament. The rules are simple. Each golfer will take a tee shot. The best shot, as determined by all members, will be where each golfer will take their second shot, and so it will go until you putt out and finish the hole. Please keep pace of play in mind. We have a silent auction with plenty of wonderful items for you to bid on, and lunch will be served promptly at one fifteen. Levon Larroquette will be the Course Marshal.” She smiled, and the flush receded when Levon appeared.
“Ah, here he is now. He’ll be taking you to your respective holes. Please make your way to your carts, and remember not to start until you hear the shotgun.”
“I thought I already heard a shotgun,” Arabella said. A few other golfers nodded.
Gilly’s ice-blue eyes turned icier as she stared Arabella down. “Impossible. The shotgun is locked up in the clubhouse. You must have heard a car backfiring. The road is only a few yards off the parking lot, after all, and people tend to speed along there without any regard for the posted limit. Now pitter-patter let’s get at her, shall we? It wouldn’t do to start late.”
“Why do I feel like saluting?” Arabella muttered, but no one was listening. She marched silently to the golf cart she was sharing with Emily. Car backfiring, indeed. She’d heard enough shotgun fire when she was a kid growing up on a farm to know what it sounded like. That sound had been a shotgun, but who had pulled the trigger? Good luck to Levon, if he was hooked up with Miss Trigger-Happy.
4
Even though she was waiting for the sound, the blast from the shotgun made Arabella jump.
“That was the shotgun,” Luke said.
“Are you sure it’s not a car backfiring?” Arabella said, eliciting a chuckle from Emily and Hudson. Luke, however, didn’t appear to be amused.
“Remember, silence is golden on the tee.” Luke smiled, but Arabella could tell he was serious. Hudson raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, pulled his driver out of his bag, and walked, ball and tee in hand, ready to hit.
Both men’s tee shots were impressive, long and straight down the middle of the fairway. They carted it down to the red advanced tees. Emily hit first. It was another decent shot, not the distance of Luke and Hudson, but a solid one hundred and fifty yards. By this time, Arabella was getting anxious. Golf wasn’t her thing. She’d only taken it up this spring at Emily’s urging and hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. Never an athlete, Arabella was the kid everyone had picked last for any sort of sports team, and for good reason.
She walked over to the tee box, silently cursing Emily, and tried to remember everything that Robbie Andrews, the head pro at the Miakoda Falls Golf and Country Club, had taught her in her weekly lessons. Robbie was nicknamed “The Saint”—a nod to the prestigious St. Andrews Golf Course in Scotland and Robbie’s reputation as an infinitely patient instructor. But even Robbie’s tolerant temperament had been tested by Arabella’s inability to grasp the basics.
She took a deep breath, determined to get it right. Feet slightly wider than shoulders. Left foot slightly turned out. The ball just inside her left heel. She gripped the club lightly, her fingers interlaced the way Robbie had instructed, and looked for two V’s formed by her thumbs and index fingers. Took another deep breath and a practice swing, then one more swing for good measure. Finally hit the ball, only to watch it go about fifty yards and land in a sand trap shaped like Mickey Mouse ears.
“I’m sorry.”
“Relax,” Hudson said. “It’s best ball, and we’re here to support Kids Come First. Don’t stress yourself.”
Emily gave Arabella a look that said, “See, I told you he was a good guy.”
“Hudson’s right,” Luke said. “This is supposed to be fun. Let’s go, see which ball we’re going to use. We can pick up the other balls along the way.”
The rest of the hole wasn’t much better, at least for Arabella, although her putting saved them a stroke, and everyone made a big deal about it. She had to admit that all those visits to the mini putt when she was growing up were coming in handy.
Arabella had to admit that arriving at the third hole and seeing the jet ski on display was exciting. A man wearing a Toronto Blue Jays baseball cap and blue and black plaid pants sat in a chair behind the tee box and off to the left side. He nodded, but didn’t speak.
“He’s from the hole in one insurance company,” Emily said, stating the obvious. “They told me they were going to send someone. I suppose they’re worried someone might try to cheat.”
The thought of someone cheating hadn’t even occurred to Arabella, which was just as well. She’d had enough sleepless nights over this jet ski business.
Once again, she let the others go first. All three managed to clear the pond and land on the green, but no one was anywhere close to getting a hole in one. Arabella breathed a sigh of relief; they might not be eligible to win, but it still freaked her out to think someone else might. She went through her mental prep, took her swing, and watched her ball veer directly into the woods.
“Hey, you made it over the water,” Hudson said, hopping into his cart. “For someone just starting out, that’s not a bad shot.”
Arabella caught Emily’s look and smiled. He really was a nice guy. “Thanks, Hudson. Whether I can find my ball is an entirely different story. Why don’t I look for it while you guys putt in? I’m sure one of you will be able to make the shot.”
They crossed the pond on a wooden bridge just wide enough for their golf carts, parked on the path next to the hole, and grabbed their putters. Luke, Hudson, and Emily walked to the green and began debating which ball to hit. Arabella trundled over to the woods, feeling stupid and hoping like hell it wasn’t infested with poison ivy. The woods were thicker than she’d expected. She walked in a couple of feet, using her putter to push the branches aside.
That’s when she started to scream.
If you enjoyed this excerpt, you can Find A Hole In One: A Glass Dolphin Mystery #2 at your favorite bookseller.
About the Author
Judy Penz Sheluk is the author of the Glass Dolphin Mysteries (The Hanged Man’s Noose; A Hole in One) and the Marketville Mysteries (Skeletons in the Attic; Past & Present). Her short stories appear in several collections. In addition to writing mysteries, she has spent many years working as a freelance writer and editor; her articles have appeared in dozens of U.S. and Canadian consumer and trade publications.
Judy is a member of Sisters in Crime, International Thriller Writers, the Short Mystery Fiction Society, South Simcoe Arts Council, and Crime Writers of Canada, where she serves on the Board of Directors.
filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
The Hanged Man's Noose Page 24