Dead on Course

by Glenis Wilson

  ‘Oh, yes, please, Harry.’

  I took two glasses from his tray. ‘Everything going well with your wife, Tom?’ I enquired. He looked surprised.

  ‘Er … er … yes, well, she was doing OK, the hospital said when I rang up about an hour ago.’ Then he added defensively, ‘I was on my break.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I nodded reassuringly. ‘All the best to you both.’

  ‘Your wife’s having a baby?’ Barbara asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What are you hoping for?’ Chloe said.

  ‘Wife wants a boy. Me, I’m not fussed. Just want to finish my shift and get over to the hospital to see her.’

  ‘Surely,’ I said, ‘they’d be able to get a stand-in if you want to go.’

  ‘Oh, no! No.’ He looked agitated. ‘I wouldn’t even ask. Now she’s going to be a mum, she’s given up her job, so she’s relying on me to support us all.’

  ‘But why?’ Barbara crinkled her forehead.

  ‘Do you know the cost of child care?’ His voice rose. ‘I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to …’ He looked round nervously to make sure nobody was taking notice. ‘It wouldn’t pay us to do it. She was only on basic wage rate, y’see … not worth it.’

  ‘So much better for the baby if she stays at home to look after it.’

  He shot Chloe a grateful look. ‘We think so, too. But o’course that means it’s up to me to keep working. Daren’t risk losing my job. Got a mortgage, y’see.’

  We all saw and commiserated with him about the state of today’s world. An awful lot of people had their backs pushed hard up against the wall. Another guest a few yards away raised an empty glass and waved it in our direction.

  ‘Must get on.’ He lifted the tray and eeled his way through the crush.

  ‘Let’s hope his wife holds on until he gets there. Would be a shame if he misses the birth.’

  ‘Ooh, yes,’ Barbara agreed with Chloe. Then she turned to me. ‘Got one of my parties booked for the end of next week. You up for it? And you, too, Chloe, if you fancy it.’

  ‘I fancy it.’

  ‘Me, too,’ I said.

  ‘Great, always room for a couple more.’

  They sipped drinks and we watched as the dancers parted like the Red Sea as the band struck up ‘Brown Sugar’. It was a while since I’d heard it, but it was definitely a party song. Into the wedge of clear space on the dance floor, Lucinda and Brandon really got into the spirit of the music. They danced very well, despite Lucinda’s dress, and finally, panting and laughing, collapsed into chairs at the side. There was cheering and clapping as the guests roared their approval before going back to have another go themselves, this time to ‘Rolling in the Deep’.

  Mike forged his way back to us as Barbara was whisked off into the heavy beat dance by her partner.

  ‘Going very well, isn’t it?’

  ‘Certainly is, but now we’ve established Louis’ death wasn’t an accident, I could do with having another word with Edward.’

  ‘He’s tucked in over there by the windows, chatting to that trainer from Leicester, Clive Unwin. We’ll break it up. I’ll take Clive, you go for Edward.’

  It was a major operation crossing the room, but we eventually fetched up next to Edward. Mike cleanly cut out Clive with talk about an upcoming race and I was left wondering how the devil I could broach awkward questions in the present venue. But the awkwardness was swept away by Edward himself.

  ‘Such a shame Louis can’t see her dancing.’ He nodded in Lucinda’s direction. ‘Having some fun and being happy.’ He shook his head. ‘A tragedy.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If I’d known what was in store, I’d have gone to the races at Donny myself, driven us back.’ He paused, ‘Jo-Jo as well.’

  Big of him, I thought. But it answered the first of my questions for me. Edward hadn’t been to the races that day.

  ‘Edward, can I ask you if you know of any threat against Louis? Had he any enemies?’

  There was no subtle way of asking it except head-on. He peered at me, taken aback by the question.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Do you think it could have been a deliberate smash? Not simply an accident?’

  ‘No, ’course not. I know there’re some idiots about that cause an accident on purpose, claim on the insurance, but no, no, it was just a terrible tragedy. Nobody to blame.’ He took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and gave a good blow.

  ‘So,’ I persisted, ‘Louis didn’t have anybody gunning for him?’

  More than half-drunk by now, Edward peered at me closely. ‘He was a tough man in business. There could have been competitors who wished him off their backs. Maybe not pleased he died like he did, but … not too sorry he’s out of the way, I suppose.’

  ‘No more personal disagreements?’

  ‘Funny thing, but I think Alice, my, er … lady friend … wasn’t too keen on him.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, said something once about doing a man down. Wouldn’t say what or who, though, when I asked her what she was on about.’

  ‘Couldn’t have meant it. I mean, she put Jo-Jo on to DaddyDating. That’s where Louis met her.’

  ‘S’right,’ he slurred, ‘must’ve got it wrong.’

  ‘I expect so,’ I said. ‘What was Alice’s surname?’

  ‘No idea, my dear chap,’ he said, a laugh rumbling in his throat at the absurdity of my question.

  ‘Could it have been Goode?’

  ‘Can’t answer you that’ – his laughter bubbled up – ‘except she was – bloody good.’

  I nodded and looked across at Mike who was still valiantly holding court with the other trainer.

  ‘Better mingle, Edward,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, yes, definitely.’ Adroitly, he reached for another drink from the passing waiter. ‘Enjoy the evening.’

  FIFTEEN

  The buffet was an excellent spread. It was deliciously tempting, but Clive, the trainer from Leicester, had offered me a ride on Tuesday the eleventh at Huntingdon races. Mike filled his boots. He deserved to: he’d set me up with Clive.

  At eleven o’clock, the waiters and waitresses swiftly cleared the tables and left for the night. The dancing continued now in earnest. The band, fortified by both their break and the food, struck up with gusto. And the guests were only too ready to party.

  I found myself grabbed by Chloe for a hot number. I danced like a camel with three legs, but she could have been a professional. And whilst laughingly, skilfully, avoiding my size nines, she threw herself into ‘Staying Alive’ with ferocious energy.

  Mike, meanwhile, was being twirled around the floor by Juliette. She, too, her hair flying freely in a golden cloud around her shoulders, was giving it her all. Mike looked younger, happier. It was about time he started dating, found himself a suitable woman, one who made him happy.

  I found myself filled with light-hearted pleasure at being here. Devoting myself to Silvie and to race riding for so long, I’d lost the ability to switch off and simply enjoy myself. Being here, where the atmosphere was one of total carefree enjoyment, brought it home. I’d been lacking something in my life without realizing the lack. I was suddenly very glad to be here.

  Chloe claimed the next three dances, but by that time my right leg was giving me aggravation. To call a halt to the dancing was unthinkable since the disco wasn’t due to finish until two a.m. Some paracetamol would keep me going and there was a packet in my room that I’d brought with me just in case.

  Leading Chloe to the edge of the dance floor when the music ended, I fetched her a drink.

  ‘I’m just going up to my room for a moment. Won’t be long.’

  ‘Brandon and Lucinda have gone up,’ Chloe said and gave a knowing smile, ‘but I don’t think it’s for the same reason.’

  ‘No, I don’t. But I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘I expect they’ll be a bit longer, probably half an hour or so.’

  ‘You’re a naughty girl.’


  ‘Hmmm …’ she said, her eyes sparkling, ‘I could be … with the right man.’

  I excused myself.

  From the St Andrew’s Suite it was quicker to use the main staircase opposite the reception desk. I followed the stairs as they turned left at the top, left again and then right down a short landing. At the end of which was door 105, the bridal suite. From the noises coming from inside, it was obvious Chloe’s assumption had been correct. I grinned and tiptoed past.

  Reaching my own room, I snapped on the lights. It was dark outside, although the moon was up and it was a full one. Going into the bathroom, I opened the packet of paracetamol tablets, filled a tooth mug with water and swallowed three.

  On the point of leaving the room, I’d actually stepped out on to the landing when I remembered my mobile phone had been left charging since dinner. I was about to go back to collect it when I heard a cry. The cry was muffled and followed directly afterwards by the sound of a door slamming. I hesitated. The landing was deserted. It was unlikely anybody else would have heard anything. Although the cry had been indistinct, there was distress in it – and it had come from room 105. But I could hardly go barging in to see if there was anything wrong.

  Instead, I went back into my own room. Going over to the north window, I looked out. The upper part was open and all I could hear was the boom of the sea as the waves broke on the shore. There was no other sound. A cloud had obscured the moon, leaving only starlight, but from this vantage point I could see the window of 105 at the end of the hotel. The lights were on inside, but that was all I could make out. No movement, no sound. I gave it two or three minutes. Apart from the noise of the waves, it really was as silent as the grave.

  Calling it quits, I reached up to pull the curtains ready for night.

  And the cloud slid away from the face of the moon. Instantly, everything was bathed in brilliant moonlight. With puddles of darkness and shadows in shades of grey and silver, it was magnificent. The sea itself appeared to be gilded with silver. I halted, taken aback by the sheer beauty of the landscape.

  Away down the dark ribbon of beach, a flash of pure white drew my eyes. For a second, I couldn’t imagine what it was. It resembled a white shadow. But it was moving, quite fast, and as I watched in fascination, I could make out the shape of a person. Realization came to me. It was Lucinda. Lucinda still wearing her white bridal gown. She was running along the shore, by herself.

  Apprehension ran down my spine. Something was very wrong here. And at that same moment, I saw a second shadowy figure. A figure very difficult to discern, dressed all in black.

  Whoever it was had been totally invisible until then, hidden by the sea defence escarpment. Built to withstand the full fury of the North Sea, the escarpment was substantial. Between the edge of the beach and the low shrubs that marked the boundary of the golf course ran the line of enormous sea defence rocks.

  As Lucinda drew level, the man in black suddenly emerged from behind one of the rocks. Totally oblivious to danger, Lucinda never saw him as she ran along the sand. Watching in impotent horror, I saw him lunge at her, knocking her to the ground. But almost instantly she was up on her feet again, battering at the man with both hands. It was hellish to watch, knowing there could only be one winner and there was nothing I could do – I was too far away to help her. I could only watch helplessly as the man pinioned her arms and dragged her up over the rocks and down the other side, out of sight.

  He was heading away from the beach towards the golf course. The low boundary of shrubs edging the course would prove no barrier to him. I strained to see which direction he would take. But sod’s law was operating. Another cloud came across and the moonlight blacked out. Any advantage gained by staying in the room to keep the man in sight was obliterated.

  I snatched my mobile phone from the electric socket where it had been charging and ran for the stairs. Outside, the buggies were all lined up – securely locked in place. And I needed wheels to overtake the bastard before he injured Lucinda. She was such an innocent, sweet girl. I blanked off what he might have in mind for her.

  Outside the Pro’s shop was the greenkeeper’s buggy. I sprinted across, flung myself into the driver’s seat. The key was in! I knocked it into forward, wrenched the wheel and sent it surging and slithering up the slope by the side of the hotel, along the yellow stone track and out on to the course.

  Within yards, the track had petered out and the buggy was travelling down the grass on the tenth fairway. I switched on the overhead spotlight and found the Klaxon horn – the noise was tremendous. I hoped to heaven people in the hotel would hear it above the sound of the music. I needed back-up desperately but had no time to waste asking for help. Remembering the mobile in my pocket, I drove with one hand and fished for the phone. It was no use: I couldn’t operate the mobile and steer.

  Driving at top speed, I sent the buggy hurtling and bucking down to the bottom of the long fairway that ran parallel to the beach. But there was no sign of either the man or Lucinda. Her white dress would have been a dead giveaway, impossible to miss.

  I swung the wheel hard left, inland now, away from the beach, and careered up a steep bank. Teetering at the top, I sent it plunging down the other side. The beam of the spotlight on top of the vehicle dipped and spun madly as the ground fell away and the tyres dropped solidly into steep hollows, bouncing me around against the sides of the buggy.

  The landmark of the lighted hotel had completely disappeared from sight. I was driving into darkness. I lost all sense of direction. All I needed was to run straight down the side of a sand-filled bunker and that would be that. Although the night air was chill, I dragged a forearm across my face. I was dripping with sweat, from both nerves and exertion.

  The blackness pressed in on me from all sides. It was surreal and spooky to be out on the golf course in the middle of the night. I found myself crashing through some very rough ground covered in straggling low undergrowth and bushes. The buggy ran aground, came to a bone-shaking halt, the tyres spinning wildly and ineffectively.

  Swearing and sweating, I knocked the one lever into reverse and gave it some hammer. The tyres spun backwards, found purchase and slammed me hard against the seat as the vehicle suddenly shot backwards down a bank.

  Totally disorientated, I drove round in a wide circle searching for a landmark I could recognize. It was all so very different from walking the course in daylight. But the circling paid off. I felt the difference in the tyre grip and then I was back on one of the yellow tracks. Cutting the speed so I didn’t overshoot if it ran out suddenly, I followed the track round two tight bends.

  Up ahead, I could just make out a line of post-and-wire fencing dissecting the course. I was approaching the public footpath called Granny’s Opening. The narrow path ran from the main road at Roman Bank, west of the golf course, right through to the beach on the east side. I wasn’t lost now; I knew exactly where I was.

  I stopped, cut the engine and the Klaxon, and listened. Except for the sough of the wind in the trees lower down the course near the seventeenth tee, and the boom of the sea breaking on the beach to my right, the night was silent.

  The cloud cover shifted again and the moonlight provided much needed illumination. I took out my mobile and tapped in Mike’s number.

  ‘I need your help, mate.’ I gave him directions where to find me.

  ‘What the hell are you doing out there?’

  ‘Trying to save Lucinda from a crazy bastard. Can’t explain, no time. Just get me some back-up out here – quick. Get Dan to unlock the buggies and drive – it’ll be quicker than on foot.’

  Mike didn’t waste time on futile questions.

  ‘I’m with you, Harry. Hold on.’

  The phone went dead and I pushed it back into my pocket.

  Leaving the buggy parked up, I walked a short way to the left along Granny’s Opening, shouting out Lucinda’s name. My voice echoed weirdly – but no one answered. The course was eighteen holes, seventy-on
e par playing distance, well over six thousand yards. It was unlikely I’d find her on my own. More manpower was needed. I retraced my steps and started off along the right-hand side of the pathway. I called her name every few yards, but the night mockingly tossed my voice back to me.

  A lot of shrubs and tangled undergrowth grew at the side of the path, but shortly I found myself facing a high, very steep bank on the top of which I could just make out a flag flying.

  An onshore wind was blowing, whipping against my face and bringing with it a strong, salty smell that I could practically taste. If the light had been better, I knew it would show the flag was red because this was the fourteenth green and I was standing in the hollow called Devil’s Hope.

  Maybe, if I were to climb up to the top of the bank, I could see further towards the beach. I moved forward a few paces and almost tripped. I’d been focusing on the highest point, looking up at the flag for direction. Now, glancing down into the hollow to see what had snagged my foot, I saw something lying on the ground half obscured by the undergrowth.

  Something white.

  I went closer and moved back some of the foliage. Fear for that innocent young girl sent my pulse racing into overdrive. I looked down at the little heap of white and felt I’d been punched very hard in the guts.

  It was Lucinda – I’d found her. But how I wished to God I hadn’t.

  Lucinda’s precious white gown was no longer pristine. A ragged tear ran from ankle to groin and an ugly stain on the bodice had spread all down the left-hand side. Although it wasn’t light enough to make out the colour of the stain, I didn’t need light. I could smell what it was – blood.

  A great, suffocating sorrow swept over me. I drew in a sharp, rasping breath and dropped to my knees, calling out her name.

  There was no response.

  I pressed my fingers beneath the line of her jaw, desperately feeling for a pulse. Her skin felt soft, warm and yielding against my fingers. But it was already too late. There was no pulse.

  Lucinda was dead.

  SIXTEEN

  Twelve hours ago, Lucinda had entered the hotel full of life, happiness, pride in her new husband, her wedding ceremony, her beautiful white gown. She had entered the hotel to the song ‘Angels’.