Skinner’s round

"S all right, isn't it?'

Of course, sir. I wanted to speak to you in private anyway.'

The Marquis shook his head. 'Poor old Mickey gone to meet his Maker and all those buggers can talk about are rights and bloody royalties. No sensibilities, these people, none at all.' He looked up at Ski

`He finished with a par, so Cortes told me. Safe drive to the middle landing area, good three wood to the green, two putts. Spaniard put his tee shot in the water.' The Marquis chuckled.

`Teach the bugger! Damn good hole that. The pros'll think they can carry the corner of the loch, but they'll find that it's nearly always into the wind… even, sometimes, when you wouldn't think there was a wind blowing!'

Ski

`You've played the course?'

Indeed. Michael invited me a few weeks back. The poor bloke had a par up the last then too.'

`So you knew Mickey. Real shocker, this, eh. Seemed so fit, too. Talk about life's bloody ironies. Here's me stuck here in this damnable thing, and there was he playing three or four rounds a week. Yet which one of us is floating in the bloody Jacuzzi?

What'd they reckon it was? Heart attack? Stroke? Bryan just said he'd been found dead in the tub.'

Ski

The Marquis shook his head violently. He swung his chair, first left, then right, then turned to face Ski

`No, sir. Not that. I'm sorry, but he was murdered.'

Oh by Christ, how awful! Murdered! Right here in the club. Who the hell would…' He glared across at Ski

It's early days yet, sir. My officers are just begi

The Marquis raised an eyebrow. 'This morning. We had some stuff to go over, to do with the tournament. He came out to Bracklands early; ate breakfast with Sue and me.'

I take it that Sue is Lady Kinture?'

"S- right.'

`How did he seem?'

`Full of beans. He was very excited about playing with Cortes. Went on about it just a little too much, in fact. Most difficult thing about all this for me is having to watch all these damn fellas playing my course. I helped design it, you know. Gave O'Malley the architect some ideas. Insisted that he use all the existing features, but create nothing new, except bunkers.

My baby, but I'll never hit a shot on her.'

Ski

'There's no movement in your legs at all, then?'

`Not a bloody twitch. Been everywhere, tried everything. When something like this happens, they're never quite sure how it'll work out. Sometimes a little movement can come back after a couple of years. Not with me, though. On my arse for the rest of my life.'

`So Michael was a bit insensitive. Did you quarrel over it?'

This time both noble eyebrows shot upwards. 'God no! Chap didn't mean anything by it.

Frankly, even if he had, I couldn't afford to fall out with him. Needed his dough in the venture. I'd be in the shit if he pulled out. Have to go into business with the banks, God forbid. So no, officer, we did not have words. Mind you, I was grumpy all morning. Took it out on poor Sue, I'm afraid.'

`You needed White's money, you say. Mind if I ask how the venture is structured.'

`No point in my minding. It's a matter of record. We're incorporated as Witchhill plc. The company has three shareholders; the Kinture Family Trust has forty-five per cent, White Holdings has another forty-five and Ryan O'Malley, the course architect, was given the balance as part of his fee, with the proviso that if he ever wants to sell he has to offer Michael and me five per cent each.'

`No one else with any form of interest?'

`Nobody. Had plenty of approaches from people wanting in on the action. Everybody and his brother — in one case quite literally — were keen to have a part of what's going to be the finest golf development on the planet. Mickey and I turned them all down. We were pretty certain that we didn't need anyone's cash or reputation to make Witches' Hill a success.'

The policeman nodded. 'What's the effect of the death of a shareholder?'

The Marquis smiled. 'Good question, Ski

It was Ski

The Marquis glanced down at his captive legs. 'Don't think I'm up to cashing in on it,' he grunted.

Ah, but you must know, sir,' said Ski

`But on balance I think you're a bit too obvious a suspect actually to be a suspect… even if we ignore the fact that whoever killed White didn't do it from a wheelchair.' He paused. 'Still, we must cover all the angles. Where's Mr O'Malley right now, d'you know?'

I rather do. Nowhere around here, I'm glad to say. Fella's in the pokey in Australia.'

In jail!'

"Fraid so. Wild bugger, O'Malley. Got into a fight in a bar in Sydney two weeks ago and broke a fella's jaw. Wasn't the first time, so the judge gave him sixty days to cool off. So that's your Theory Number Two down the Swa

Ski

`None at all. Nor, I say again, between Michael and me. Been friends for years, since long before this business.'

`Right, but do you know of anyone who might have had a down on him?'

The Marquis looked blankly at Ski

If you knew him you'll know that he wasn't the sort of bloke to go around collecting enemies.'

Ski

The Marquis grunted in agreement, so loudly that Ski

I'm sorry, are you still busy?'

The Marquis looked up at the policeman, inviting him to answer. He shook his head. 'No, Lady Kinture, we're done.' The heavy oak door swung open wide, and she stepped into the room; suddenly it seemed smaller. Susan Kinture was tall indeed, at least six feet, with a handsome oval face, crested by a mass of perfectly arranged blonde hair. Ski