He had shot at me. Tried to kill me. And if Ginny had been up there, he would have shot at her and maybe even killed her. I didn't know what to do about Eric. Tell John? Confront him myself? I needed to sleep on it. See if I could gather my thoughts in a logical manner. Not act on the adrenaline of almost being killed by someone I knew.
When we woke, I decided to call John later in the day to fill him in on what had happened. In the meantime, we were going to head over to Delmar and check on our bill from the round of golf that we had played the other day. We wanted to see if we were charged for Lee and Tori. The verdict on that situation would shed some more light on Bill's involvement with Lee.
"I'm still trying to get the image of Lee on that woman out of my mind," I said in the car on the way to Delmar.
Imogen was wearing a short white golf skirt and had on a tight-fitting, pink-collared golf shirt. Her legs were tan and toned as she sat in the passenger seat looking out of the window. The morning sun shone on her thighs.
"I know how we can rectify that situation, Max," she said.
I did too. But we were in the car, and I was driving. Both of these realities were killing my daydream.
"Yeah, and how's that?"
"Just wait until we get to the club."
"What does the club have to do with anything?" I asked.
Imogen turned to me and gave me a wry smile. At that point I knew what she meant.
When we arrived at Delmar, Imogen and I snuck off to one of the cabanas by the pool where Ginny proceeded to help me remove the image of Lee from my mind. It was replaced with new images. All of which a married man does not divulge in public or to any person, for that matter. They lived in my mind and would stay there.
We spent a little time at the pool after that. Not swimming but laying poolside right out in front of the cabana. It was a beautiful morning, and an hour of sun wasn't going to kill us. In fact, I argued, it would do us a world of good. Sometimes a little rest and relaxation is the answer.
I ordered a coffee from the cabana boy, and Imogen ordered a tea.
Much to my dismay, it was way too early for a drink, if you think ten in the morning is too early.
"I still can't get Eric out of my mind," I said.
"I thought we had purged that brain of yours already this morning," Imogen said, eyes closed, lying on her lounge chair.
I laughed. She was right. It was remarkable that I could even allow my mind to focus on anything else besides what had happened with the curtains drawn mere moments ago.
"That's not what I mean," I said. "He shot at me, remember? I can't believe that Eric has something to do with Carl's murder."
"We don't know that for certain, Max," she said.
"It seems like half of Delmar is involved in this case," I said.
"Maybe so. One thing for certain, we need to speak with John."
Our drinks came. I took a sip of my coffee.
"Tea?" I asked.
"Yeah, I already had a cuppa, so I thought I'd change it up. I miss tea, you know? It's a bloody good cup too," she said, sipping.
"It's not for me," I said.
"Well, you've finally confirmed it, you're not English. Thank bloody hell you're not, too."
We sat for the next thirty minutes on our chairs, sipping our drinks, and trying to relax. I was thinking about everything. My mind spinning. After I finished my cup, Imogen and I headed over to the member office to check on the golf bill.
"Mr. and Mrs. Slade. How are you both doing?"
Ann, the head of customer relations for the club, greeted us at the door.
"We're great," I said.
"Wonderful," Imogen said.
"Come in, come in," she said.
She directed us in to member services. It had a small reception area, a secretary sitting out front, and a few offices in the back, behind the paned-glass double doors.
A receptionist. We still needed one of those. I reminded Imogen under my breath that we needed to take care of that situation posthaste. She dismissed me under her breath, telling me to get a grip, that we'd take care of that after these cases were over. Ann, walking two steps in front of us, missed the whole exchange.
"So, tell me, how can I help you guys?"
"I have a question about some golf charges," I said.
Ann looked concerned.
"Is everything OK? Was there a mistake?"
"No, nothing like that. I just want to get a copy of our recent month's charges."
She looked a little less concerned. Perhaps relieved that we weren't unhappy.
"Why don't you come into my office, and I'll see if I can help," she said.
We walked through the doors and into Ann's office.
"Can I get you two anything? Water? Coffee?"
"Not for me," I said.
"No thank you," Imogen said.
"OK, you two make yourself comfortable, and I'll be right back. I'll pull up those charges for you," she said.
She left the office.
"Well, it's the moment of truth," I said.
"I still hope Bill's not involved," she said.
"Ginny, he punched me in the face," I said.
"I know, luv, but he's just a harmless old man. Would be a pity—"
Ann reentered the room, causing Imogen to stop dead in her tracks. She carried with her a piece of paper.
"Here you are, Mr. Slade," she said.
She had a seat behind her desk.
"Take a look and let me know if there's anything incorrect or out of place. I want to make sure that you're comfortable with everything listed."
"Thanks."
I started reading through the print out. Plenty of charges for dinners, lunches, and drinks. Drinks. We had spent way too much money on alcohol at this place. And food. Food. What on earth were we doing? I made a mental note to talk to Ginny about our spending habits. It needed an overhaul. But, then again, we were on a case and spending a lot of time here at Delmar. Hell, who was I kidding? We weren't going to change.
Then I saw it. The charge for our round of golf. Instead of being charged for a foursome, we were charged for two players. Imogen and me. The Endicotts were ghosts. Never here. Never played. Never killed Carl.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
It was now or never. We got up from our seats, thanked Ann for her time, and then walked out of the member services office.
"We're going over to that shed right now and confronting Bill," I said.
"Max, do you really think it's—"
"He's hiding something, and we're going to get to the bottom of it. I'm not waiting one more minute," I said.
"Yessir," she said.
"Damn right," I said, laughing. I couldn't help it. She made me laugh, especially since she was clearly mocking me.
We had to talk to Bill. And this was a safe, public place. Not that it mattered a couple of days ago when he gave me the old man smackdown. But this was our best bet. The best chance that we had to speak with him. Or, at the very least, get him to mutter some words at us. The other alternative was showing up at his house. And who knew what kind of scene that might develop into? An angry old man with everything to lose backed into a corner with no witness around. I didn't like the sound of that one iota.
"OK, Max. Let's go," she said.
"Well, it's not like you had any choice," I said.
"I always have free will, Mr. Slade," she said.
"If you think so, Mrs. Slade," I said.
She shook her head at me.
"C'mon already, luv. Let's do this," she said.
We walked into the main hall at Delmar and strolled through the back doors and out toward the golf marshal's shed.
"Is he in there?" I asked.
"I can't see from here," she said.
"Shit, I can't see either," I said.
"Scared?" she said.
"Are you kidding?" I said.
She looked at me as we walked.
"OK, a little," I said.
"S
ee. Was it that hard to admit?"
"The guy kicked my—"
"He's there," she said, interrupting me.
"OK, here goes nothing," I said.
She gave me a not-so-reassuring pat on the back as we walked up to the golf marshal's shed. When we arrived in front of Bill, he didn't notice. He was busy scribbling something into that schedule book. I didn't interrupt him. I just let him scribble away. Finally, he noticed us.
He looked up from his book, his hand still holding the mini-pencil. He stared straight through me, and for a moment that actually felt like ten minutes, he was silent. Then he spoke.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Good afternoon to you too," I said.
He didn't laugh. He continued to stare at me. The pencil now sat in the book. He placed it in there and brought his hands up by the top of the window.
"I said, what do you two want?" he repeated.
Now, there were two ways I could have dealt with the situation. I could have been nasty back. But, that was only going to lead to an argument and possibly another fight. One in which I'd have a hard time holding my own once it started. Then there was option number two. That option involved trying to make light of the situation, killing him with kindness, and then pinning ol' Bill into a corner. One where he realized that he was caught. One where he knew that I was holding all of the cards.
"Bill, Bill, is that any way to talk to an old friend?" I asked. "I just want to chat. That's all."
He snarled at me. I swear. Like an animal. Some sort of beast.
"Oh, now we're friends?"
"I thought so," I said.
"Mr. Slade, friends don't—"
"See, now we're getting somewhere. Albeit on a last-name basis but better than nothing in my book," I said.
Bill had turned red-faced, again. This was the same Bill that had punched me square in my face. His temper had risen. That was for sure. Might as well keep pushing and watch him boil over. I was convinced that the spit would start foaming on his lips the next time that he spoke.
"What in the world is wrong with you? Huh? You don't get it. I don't want to talk to you or that one," he said, saliva forming on his lips as he pointed to Imogen.
Now that was low. Poor Imogen. She didn't deserve that. She has a name. Use it.
"Now Bill, that's certainly no way to talk to old friends. Don't you think you owe poor Imogen over here an apology?"
"You keep it up, I'm going to open the door, come out—"
"Now how would that look? Huh?" I asked, waiving the printout in his face. "Let me answer that one for you. Not good. Says here you didn't charge me for the round of golf that I had with Lee and Tori Endicott. Somehow, they didn't make it into the schedule. The schedule you meticulously keep. Now, you tell me, how's that going to look to the police? I'll answer that one for you too. Not good. Like you're hiding something. Kind of like when you lied to Imogen and me about meeting Lee."
Then Bill laughed. Right in my face. I didn't know what to make of it. I looked to Imogen for an answer or support, but she looked just as confused as I was. I had expected him to charge like the old bull that he was, but he had shocked me.
"You ungrateful man," he said.
I stared at him, my senses heightened. Ready to defend myself if and when his demeanor changed.
I was so confused by his reaction that all I could muster up was, "What?"
Then he bent his head through the opening, getting it as close as he possibly could to my face. I backed away.
"I was doing you a favor. You ungrateful little man."
Had he felt bad for punching me in the face? Was that his way of apologizing? I didn't buy it.
"Me a favor?" I said, this time trying to rile him up even further.
"Yeah, you a favor. A free round of golf for your friends. A good-bye present to make sure you never spoke to me again."
What kind of logic was that? Surely he thought I would thank him for that.
"No. You didn't charge Lee and Tori for their golf game because you're following orders. They were never here. Just like Lee was never here the day of the Carl's murder."
He laughed.
"You're out of your mind. I never saw the guy in my life."
"That's not what I think. I think you knew Lee, and I think you helped him murder Carl, and I've got the evidence to prove it."
He was still laughing.
"You and that one over there can think whatever you want. Oh, and thank you for reporting me to the board. You'll be happy to know that I've been let go. I'm just here until they find my replacement. So do me a favor. Get the hell out of my sight. You two are the last people on earth that I ever want to see again."
Disciplined. Good. He deserved to lose his job, but I wasn't going to push this any further. He had been dished out his punishment by the board. They kept to their word. But there was more to this exchange. He was trying to play his involvement in Carl's murder off. But I knew the truth. He covered up evidence of Lee's arrival at Delmar. I just didn't know why. Why would he help someone like Lee Endicott? What was his connection to Endicott Financial? Those were the parts that didn't add up.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
We walked back into the clubhouse. I needed a drink. Fast. I was pretty sure Imogen wanted one too. We had no other choice but to walk away. I wasn't going to fight Bill in the middle of Delmar. I also didn't have any evidence on me. But his reaction, despite his pathetic attempts to plead ignorance, convinced me that Bill had been involved. That he knew Lee and that he knew what happened to Carl on the course.
"He's lying," Imogen said, after the bartender served us our drinks.
"Of course he is," I said. "That's why he was trying to play it all off as if he knew nothing. Deny, deny, deny."
"I half expected him to leap through the window and punch you."
"You and me both. Once the saliva starts foaming, you know you're in trouble."
Imogen laughed.
"It's not funny," she said.
"Did you see his face?" I said.
"Well, maybe a little funny."
We sipped our drinks, trying to unwind. There was the matter of the art auction to check up on while we were at Delmar. Once we were finished, we'd head over and see if any of the board members were in so we could get an update on the plans.
"Can you believe this auction is happening here?" I asked Imogen.
She sipped her scotch and soda.
"I can't even focus on that right now. I'm still thinking about Bill."
"Forget him," I said. "Let him stew in his shed."
"I was really hoping that he had nothing to do with any of this," she said.
"Why? Because, he's got a nice stroke?"
She chuckled.
"No, he has always been nice to me."
"He wanted to sleep with you," I said.
"C'mon, luv," she said.
"He did. He knew you were untouchable, but there was a part of him that—"
"You're crazy," she said.
"Am I? You don't know guys, my love. They're always thinking about sex. Even at seventy," I said.
"Really?"
I just sipped my Scotch.
"Yeah, really. Now let's head over to the corporate offices. I want to see when that auction is happening."
I broke my own rule and pounded the rest of my drink in one gulp. Imogen followed suit. Then we strolled through the lobby of Delmar on our way to corporate offices. Albeit with a bit of a buzz.
There was an elevator off to the side of the lobby. It led to the corporate offices. I was not interested in using the stairs. When the doors opened, we were let off on the second floor. There was no receptionist here. Just a sitting area and offices off to the side. We exited the elevator and found the office that we were looking for a few doors down from the elevator.
I knocked on the door.
"Come," the voice said.
We opened the door and sitting at his desk was Milton, president of the bo
ard of Delmar Country Club.
"Max, Imogen, hello."
"Hi, Milton," I said.
"Come in. Come in," he said.
He stood up to greet us. Hands were shaken and air kisses dispensed.
"I'm glad you stopped by. I've got big news," he said.
"Do tell," Imogen said.
"I met with the board yesterday, and we're going to schedule the auction four weeks from today. That should give us enough time to get some press. Sandra is working on that," he said.
Sandra was the PR lady who sat on the board.
"I don't think press is going to be too hard to generate," I said. "We're talking about a found masterpiece. It's going to be wall-to-wall press."
"We know how to handle it. We've had plenty of experience with national events."
It wasn't worth discussing. I was out of the equation. I had no say, nor did I have any input into running this event. All I had was the idea, but that wasn't even mine. It was Alese's.
"I'm sure you've got it all covered," I said.
"We do," he said. "We need to tell Ms. Steiner though. We haven't filled her in yet on the date."
"I'll take care of that for you," I said.
"Really? Thanks, Max."
"Sure. It's the least I can do," I said.
"Listen, Max, we're grateful that you came to us with the idea. We'd love to repay you in some—"
"Please, that's not necessary," I said.
"I insist," he said. "Free dues for you and your wife for the next year."
"Really, it's not necessary," I said.
"I won't take no for an answer," he said. "I'll let Ann know right away."
Free dues for a year. That was a nice gesture. I guess that they felt obligated since they were going to make tens of millions of dollars. I had to accept.
"Thanks, Milton. And please thank the board for me too," I said.
The Killing Green Page 14