âShe's all right, you say?'
âShaken to her little wattles,' said Sloan, âand bruised where he'd got his hands round her throat but alive all right.'
Leeyes grunted.
âMatt asked her to keep an eye open while he was away, that's all. He didn't mention Southon's involvment to her. She says she'd never have got into his car if he had.'
âI do wish people would leave police work to the police,' said the Superintendent pettishly.
Sloan coughed âIf the girl's father were implicated, then I wouldn't have been surprised if Matt planned to demand his own terms for the marriage when he got back. Like an early seat on the Board.'
âFar-sighted lad,' commented Leeyes sardonically. âMind you, marrying the boss's daughter never did a man any harm.'
âI think she's had a lucky escape, sir.' He paused. âShe doesn' t think so yet but she will â given time.'
Leeyes came as near as he ever did to awarding an accolade. âJust as well you got there in time,' he said.
âOnly just,' said Sloan truthfully. âIt was a near thing and I don't like to think what would have happened if Crosby had been any slower.'
âAnd I,' said Superintendent Leeyes pointedly, âdon't like to think what will happen if he gets any faster.'
Â
Gerald Moffat was still sitting in the Clubhouse in front of the picture windows that gave out onto the course. With him were Major Bligh and James Hopland.
âI don't think we should have put that fellow Leeyes in charge of the flagpole,' said Major Bligh. âHe doesn't know
the first thing about it. Look, it's practically sunset and they're only just hoisting the Club standard. It's all wrong.'
âI can tell you he'll never make a vexillologist,' snorted Moffat, ever the schoolmaster. âThe man doesn't even know that half-mast doesn't literally mean halfway down the mast.'
âWhat does it mean, then?' asked James Hopland.
âHalf-mast means that it's been lowered just enough to take another flag on top, that's all,' said Moffat. âThe flag of the new head of the family should fly just over the flag of the man whom you've just lost. It should only be lowered enough to take the new one. No more.'
âThe king is dead, long live the king,' remarked Bligh.
âHe should have left it to Arthur,' said James Hopland.
âI said to Leeyes that we haven't lost a member anyway,' said Major Bligh. He looked at the other two. âDo you know what he said?'
âTell us?' invited Hopland.
âHe said we'd lost four members.'
âFour?'
âOne to prison and three who would have to resign for offences against some Act or other making cartels illegal.'
âWe may have lost them but not to death,' said Moffat, a stickler if ever there was one. âThat's what flags are all about.'
âThen there's the boy Steele and old Bobby Curd,' said Hopland. âThey did die. What about them?'
Major Bligh said quietly. âI think we'll just take it that it's been lowered for them.' He sighed. âEasier than trying to tell Leeyes anything, don't you think?'
Â
âIt'll do the Major a bit of good, though,' said Dickie Castle comfortably, âall those other men not being there. Gilchrist would have been bound to have knocked him out in the next round of the Pletchford and now he won't.'
âI reckon old James Hopland'll be in with a chance in the
Matheson Trophy now,' said Bert Hedges. âSince all those younger players will be out of the way.'
Shipley scratched his chin. âDon't forget Doug Garwood.'
Bert Hedges grinned. âDoug? He'll be much too busy supervising the new work to play golf.'
âI thought,' stumbled Edmund Pemberton, âthat he didn't want the job.'
Bert Hedges looked cunning. âHe doesn't.'
âThat makes him the best person to give it to,' explained Dickie Castle. âCan't you see that, young Ginger?'
Edmund Pemberton had no answer to this and shook his head.
âBy the way, young Ginger,' said Bert Hedges magnanimously, âwe've lined up someone for you to caddy for tomorrow.'
The boy's head came up eagerly.
âThat's right,' said Dickie Castle. âA man called Moffat. Gerald Moffat. Slow but sure.'
âVery sure,' said Hedges. âAnd, young Ginger â¦'
âYes?'
âIf anyone you're caddying for loses his ball in The Gulf Stream, just let us know. No going in after it yourself. That understood?'
Edmund Pemberton nodded.
âAnother thing,' said Bert Castle. âDon't let Mr Moffat leave his number nine-iron anywhere on the course, that's all.'
Â
âI ought to have tumbled to Southon sooner,' said Detective Inspector Sloan.
He was back in Alan Pursglove's office at the Golf Club on the Saturday morning with Detective Constable Crosby. They were not so much catching up on the paperwork as taking it down from the walls to be used in evidence.
âI don't see how â¦' began Crosby. He was still sporting
two black eyes collected from a muscular Southon.
âBecause he'd taken such very good care to make sure that there were reasons for either his fingerprints or his DNA being in all of the suspicious places,' said Sloan. âHe'd used the greenkeeper's truck to help cut the greens as well as to carry the body out to the bunker.'
âAnd told us so,' agreed the Detective Constable. âEarly on.'
âGerald Moffat's club was found in his bag, don't forget,' said Sloan. âHe probably took it that day they played together and it's the one that killed Curd, too. Forensic say so.'
âSo it must be true,' said Crosby. âMustn't it?'
âBest of all,' said Sloan, ignoring this, âhe played a ball into the bunker at the sixth on the Sunday.'
âNever up, never in,' chanted Crosby.
âSo if his footprints had been found there,' said Sloan ignoring this, too, âthey could be explained. And he went to see the professional for advice on shanking to make sure everyone knew about it.'
The door of the room opened and a woman's head came round. âAh, there you are,' said Sergeant Perkins. âMolly said to try in here. There's some food to come, you'll be glad to hear.'
âGood,' said Crosby.
âYou may not like it but it's all they had at this time of the day.'
âBetter than nothing,' said Crosby.
âThey call it “Yips”,' said the policewoman, âbut it looks like pork scratchings to me.'
âHilary Trumper?' began Sloan.
âMore glad to get back home than she ever thought she would be,' said Sergeant Perkins, who had restored a good few youngsters to their official dwelling-places in her time. âAnd as soon as the trial's safely over Granny's taking her away for
a long holiday Round the world cruise or something.'
âGood for Granny'
âThey don't want her around when the commercial case comes up,' explained Sergeant Perkins. âOr Granny, come to that,' she added, having now met that formidable matriarch.
âI'm not surprised,' said Sloan, having met her too. âI gather she is not pleased with her sons.'
âThat's an understatement. How are you getting on here?' asked Polly Perkins.
âYou could say,' said Sloan deftly, âthat we're making space on the wall for an election notice for the Committee.'
âAh â¦' She grinned.
âVoting's next week,' said Crosby. âNever up, never in,' he added inconsequentially.
Polly Perkins went over to look. âRupert Almeric Leeyes? I never knew he was called Rupert Almeric.'
âYou do now.' Sloan sat back. âThen, thank goodness, I think we can shake the dust of the place off our feet.'
Sergeant Perkins looked unusually bashful. âNot quite,' she said. âThe Lady Captain thinks I ought to join. She says I've got just the figure for the game and she'll put me up.'
âNever up, never in,' said Crosby again.