Skinner’s round

`So did Alex, Bob, but she isn't.'

'Hah, don't I know that! If it's any consolation, I'm in the doghouse too. Look, I don't know what happened between you two after I made my theatrical exit. But I guess that when I upset her, she took it out on you.'

`Something like that. I lost it a bit, too.'

`Yeah, well, as I said, I'm sorry, as sorry as I can be. It's all down to me.'

`No it isn't, not all of it. You were right about one thing. I should have spoken to you a lot earlier. At first, you weren't around, then when you were back and I was going to say something, I let Alex talk me out of it… even though I knew she was wrong. The trouble is, she's proud of being a nineties woman, but you and I, we're eighties men.'

There was an edge of relief to Ski

And then the laugh turned into a sigh. 'Listen to me, pal. You and I are going to approach this thing in a ma

Aye, Bob, you're on. But one thing!'

`What's that?'

`Wherever we go, they'd better have a hell of a lot of beer!'

Eleven

Witches' Hill Golf and Country Club seemed to have exploded into life, after the u

The car park was almost full. As he stood at the entrance to the clubhouse, Ski

He was still there, smiling in envy as he watched the straight flight of the shots, when the clubhouse doors slid open. Mario McGuire emerged from the building, pulling on his sports jacket as he walked. He pulled up short when he saw Ski

The ACC laughed. It was just after 5 p.m. 'What d'ye mean evening, man? It's still afternoon in my book. Are you setting your own hours these days?'

Aye, sir. Ten-hour shifts like always… not counting Sundays, of course.'

`Don't remind me. I've got some DIY to finish when I get home tonight. You'd better trot on too. Maggie made a point of telling me about those Festival Theatre Tickets. Seven o'clock start she said.'

McGuire nodded. 'Yes, and she bought the tickets, too! They're a wedding present. I've never seen Turandot before.'

`That's the one with that tune, isn't it? "No one sleeps while I'm singing" or something?'

"S right, boss. And tonight it's the man himself who's singing it. It'll bring the Italian out in me, I tell you. I'll have trouble stopping myself from joining in.'

`Christ, don't do that! I've heard you sing remember.' He moved towards the door. 'On your way then, Mario. Superintendent Higgins inside?'

`Yes sir. She's using the boardroom.'

Ski

`Sit down, Ali, sit down. How're you doing? What're you doing?'

She glanced down at the papers strewn across the table. The usual routine, sir. Lots and lots of interviews. First interviews with Mr Be

Anything?' Ski

Not a scrap, sir. All we've got is friction between Morton and White, which Morton didn't mention. But we know for sure that the man was never alone yesterday. Masur and Weekes finished their game first. They waited for Morton and Nakamura, then all four went into the clubhouse together. To add to that, Brian Mackie reported that his Florida people gave Morton a good write-up. I suppose it's understandable that if you have a private tiff with someone and that someone is murdered, you're not going to mention your disagreement.'

`Maybe so,' Ski

`There is one thing, sir,' said Higgins. 'Andy Martin dropped by with something very odd.

Have a look.' She reached for a paper on her desk.

In a minute,' said Ski

He looked across the first tee. 'Our main theory, with no likely killer on the premises, is that somebody walked in, zapped the victim in his Jacuzzi, then walked out again without anyone seeing him. That, incidentally, does not rule out Morton. You know the old saying, "If a job's worth doing, it's worth getting a man to do it well."

`But if that happened, there's no way that the murderer just casually walked into the clubhouse and did the business. Unless this was a random thing, with someone prepared to kill for a few quid and a watch, he watched White and he waited.

White's Jacuzzi routine was well known. It was a fair certainty that he would take his ritual tub after the match.

`So let's assume that our killer is well pla

As he spoke he began to walk, down the teeing ground, to the brick-built, white-clad, starter's hut which was positioned on the left of the big square area of tight-mown grass. 'Like here, for example. The course isn't open for general play yet. There are only three pros here, and no more golf after they and the VIPs have gone out.'

He looked down at Higgins. 'You agree so far?'

`Yes sir.' Excitement gripped her voice.

`Right. Then suppose, once the three games are well in play, our man slips into the hut. He waits here until he sees the first game finish. It's White and Cortes. Our man picks his moment and slips inside, to wait behind the door of White's Jacuzzi and to drop him the moment he walks in.'

He led Higgins round to the door of the hut, which was out of sight of the clubhouse. It had only one lock, a Yale, and an L-shaped brass handle. He took the handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket, and very carefully, holding it by its tip, turned it downwards. The door swung open. Not even locked,' he muttered. 'Ali, from the look of it, the technicians haven't touched this place. I suggest that you get on to Edinburgh and get them back down here now. By 9 a.m. tomorrow, you'll need to have every last inch of it covered, and every fingerprint lifted. It's an official practice day for the pros tomorrow, and the public will be allowed in, so this thing will be in use.