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“Didn’t there used to be a mirror there?” Co
“Yup,” Freddy agreed. “Carefully placed by some reprobate to hide the treasure that lay beyond. Till I had the sense to move it.”
“And you discovered-mildewed tile?”
“No. A peephole.”
Co
“We think it was drilled for a phone line or something,” Freddy explained. “But you can see straight through to the ladies’ locker room!”
Co
“When did you become such a stick-in-the-mud?” Freddy asked. “I thought you were the ‘gonzo player of the PGA.’ ”
“This isn’t gonzo. This is Porky’s II.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. So you disapprove. I’ll note that on the record.” Freddy winked. “Wa
“Well, if you insist.” Co
Freddy jerked him away from the wall. “If you’re go
“Sarcastic? I’m serious. I saw the inside of the girl’s bathroom! Now I can die happy.”
“Yeah,” Freddy shot back, “you’re playin’ the wiseass now. But wait till some women show up. Then you’ll be beggin’ for a chance to peer through my peephole.”
“It’s going to be a long wait.”
“Whaddaya mean?”
Co
Freddy was crushed.
John paced around the green of the eighteenth hole. A damn fool place to be in the middle of the night. Co
He turned around in a small circle, sca
The thought brought a chuckle to his lips. What was he thinking? They couldn’t have rain at the Masters. The board of directors would never allow it. There were undoubtedly several regulations expressly forbidding it.
He heard a soft footfall several yards behind him. Or thought he did…
He whirled around. Was something moving? Or was it just the clouds behind the trees, creating the illusion of movement? It was so difficult to tell.
John suddenly realized he didn’t like being here and didn’t want to be here any longer. He should have known better than to come. The whole thing was starting to give him the creeps. He was going inside. Right now.
He started marching down the fairway. Maybe it still wasn’t too late to catch up to Co
“Leaving so soon?”
John froze in his tracks. The voice came from somewhere behind him.
“Seems a shame. We haven’t even had a chance to chat.”
Slowly, John turned to face the person speaking to him. Why was he suddenly so damn scared? There was a trembling in his knees that he didn’t seem to be able to stop. It had been a mistake coming out here. A stupid, stupid mistake-
“So it’s you,” John said, when he saw who had joined him.
“Indeed it is. And we have the fairway to ourselves.”
“How lovely.” John pursed his lips, trying to mask his growing panic behind a shroud of anger. “What’s the point of all this, anyway? Why did you drag me out here?”
“I was hoping we could talk.”
“I suspect we have nothing to talk about.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’ll bet you are,” John replied. He strained his eyes, trying to get a better look. The person standing only a few feet away from him was holding something. Something that glistened faintly. “But I don’t think talking would accomplish anything.”
“Surely we can come to… some sort of arrangement.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is there nothing that would tempt you?”
“Not in the way that you mean.” John drew up his shoulders. “Look, if it’s just the same to you, I’d like to get out of here-”
“Please don’t rush. I’ve only just arrived. And it’s such a long walk back to the clubhouse.”
“All the more reason to start now.”
“Please-give me one more chance.”
John didn’t have to pretend any longer. His fear really was starting to be replaced by anger. This had gone on too long already. “One more chance for what?”
“To help you understand. To see things from my perspective.”
“That, my friend, is never going to happen.”
“You’re certain about that?”
“Absolutely certain.”
A sigh. “Then I guess there really is nothing more to say.”
John started to turn away. “Glad you’re starting to see things my way.”
“But there is one more thing I must do.”
The glistening shape rose up so quickly John didn’t know what was happening. He heard a sudden slicing sound, like someone was swinging a scythe through the air just beside his head.
And after that, John heard nothing at all.
7
Wednesday
After ten minutes of frustration and futility, Fitz tired of pounding on the door.
“I’m coming in! Like it or not!” Fortunately, Co
He was not particularly surprised to find that Co
Fitz kicked the pile of clothes nearest him. It capsized, spilling out a shirt, three socks, a belt, soiled boxers, a muddy golf shoe, and a bra.
A bra?
Fitz picked up the frilly black lace undergarment and let it dangle from his fingertip. He was begi
Fitz stomped over to the closed bedroom door and pounded. “Co
A strained, barely audible voice responded on the other side of the door. “No.”
“Co
“Don’ wa
“Then I’m coming in.”
“You can’t. I’m not decent.”
“What else is new?” Fitz shoved the door open and kicked through the clothes and debris to the double bed. There were no heads visible, just two lumps under the top sheet-Co
“Don’ wa
“Five! It’s nine-thirty, you lunkhead! You’ve already missed the players’ roll call. And if you’re not on the first tee in twenty minutes, you’ll be disqualified from the par-three tournament.”
Suddenly, the larger lump sat bolt upright. Co
“You’re leaving?” a softer voice under the covers squealed. “But you said I was the one who could make you forget golf and devote your life to medical science.”