“He says Boss Jarvis never wants them to take his bag up to the club because then people can see he gives no tip. He always does it himself.”
“No time for jokes, Zondi man! Did he see him playing on the pitch-and-putt?”
More giggling.
“It seems, boss, that he had a bit of an argument with the chief man of this place before he started.”
“The secretary?”
It was a relief to be spared the comedy and given a neat nod.
“No tip,” said Kramer and stalked off.
Pembrook rose from the cane chair on the veranda and held out a long glass of lager.
“Yours, sir.”
“With the club’s compliments,” added the secretary.
“Mr. Pipson? Yes, we should have met the other night. Just a few questions, please.”
The drawn little man sighed silently.
“I believe, sir, that last Monday afternoon you played a round of pitch-and-putt?”
“Oh, God,” Pipson replied. “I’m beginning to think-”
“Did you?” Kramer demanded, slamming his fist down on the tabletop. His foot was agony.
“I-er-always do of an evening, before the rush in the bar starts. Just a quick three holes with my nine iron-the committee don’t mind. Yes, I played on Monday.”
“Was there anyone else on the course?”
“That’s difficult to say. I mean…”
“Have an argument with anyone?”
“Definitely not. Our members are-Do you mean the few words I exchanged at the first hole?”
“Who was that with?”
“Captain Jarvis.”
“Who’s he then?”
“One of these retired military wallahs. A bit of a rough diamond, but a good enough chap if you want a reliable partner in a foursome. See him here often, has shares, you see. Wonderful couple of girls he’s got. Pretty wife.”
“Why did you have words? Just as a matter of interest.”
“Damn silly really. I was teeing up when he arrived and insisted I let him play through. Something about having to pick his family up. But I had my bar to get to. It was over in a second.”
“I suppose you let him through?”
“One has to, hasn’t one?”
“See anyone else on the course?”
“Just the Captain. I had to wait for him to hole first, of course. Same thing again on the second. Rather irritating. The obvious answer was to play two-up but it wasn’t my job to suggest it.”
“So you followed him right to the end?” Kramer asked casually, adding with a sympathetic laugh, “How was his game on a liver like that? Pretty rough?”
“First two weren’t bad. As I said, he-”
“What about the third?”
“You’ve never played here, I suppose, Mr. Kramer?”
“That hasn’t been my pleasure.”
“Ah, well, the third is up the terrace through the windbreak. You can’t see a damn thing from the second. I arrived just as he was walking off the last green. I called out to offer him a drink-you know how important good relations are-but he just waved and went up the steps to the car park.”
“As you’re facing the windbreak, is the wattle plantation off to the left there?”
“Butts on to it actually.”
“And the last you saw of Captain Jarvis from the second was him going up through the firs?”
“Heavens no. He was lugging this ridiculous golf bag of his, so he went the way the ladies do-steady the Buffs! What are you getting at?”
Kramer pressed him back into his seat with just the tip of his right forefinger against the checkered waistcoat. Pembrook went round behind him.
“I’m not getting at you, Mr. Pipson,” Kramer soothed. “That’s all you have to worry about. Now tell me about the way the ladies go.”
Pembrook cracked his knuckles dramatically.
“Don’t do that, it’s a nasty habit.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“It’s not so steep, you see, Mr. Kramer. You go round the edge of the terrace, so to speak. Just a few yards into the wattles and out again on the top level. Quite a natural thing to do with a weight to carry.”
“And did you see Captain Jarvis on his way through the wattles?”
“I couldn’t have. There are a lot of saplings there; they tend to swallow you up.”
“But you saw him again on the last green, after he’d gone round this way. How much later was that?”
“Let me see… Three, four minutes, I suppose. The second’s the shortest hole and I managed it in two. I give myself about quarter of an hour to get round.”
“If it’s the shortest hole, weren’t you surprised to see Captain Jarvis had already finished? His hole should have taken longer and left you waiting like before.”
“That didn’t strike me. My handicap’s very poor and he could have had a lucky drive right up to the flag. Hole- in-ones are common enough anyway.”
“Okay, back to the time element again. Captain Jarvis was out of sight for a maximum of four minutes- right?”
“Perhaps five.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, the time I took to get up through the firs. Although I suppose it would take him even longer round the other way. Say four.”
“Got a nine iron handy, Mr. Pipson?”
“Y-yes.”
“Fine, I’d like you to do the second hole in two for me. Have as many tries as you like.”
Central Control were receiving complaints from every car and van within a ten-mile radius.
“I’m sorry, Major,” the chief operator apologized. “These are Colonel Muller’s orders. The call must go out every two minutes. I’ll see the ambulance is sent immediately.”
He swiveled around in his chair and called over a subordinate.
“Dawie, you have a turn now, I’m bloody sick of all the trouble this is causing. Come on, man, I’m going for a pee.”
“What is the Colonel’s message, sir?”
“Don’t try that one! If you’re stuck, just call in any one of them; they know it off by heart by now. Get Major Dorrell if you prefer it loud and clear. Won’t be long.”
What a sod the chief operator was. He was gone until long after Major Dorrell had come all the way in to make a personal matter of it.
Kramer’s foot gave him a perfect right to make Pembrook do all the running under the hot noon sun. Zondi had been disqualified in the first heat for having too short a stride. But the man really suffering was the secretary, who, he confessed, always played damnably badly on an empty stomach.
In the end, however, it was established that the secretary took five minutes to complete the second hole in two and reach the trees for the third. And Pembrook proved that it took a total of five to reach the glade, wait there two minutes, and then walk to the final green. He did it in four on one occasion but was sent back for moving too fast, without making allowance for a load. Which was all very surprising, as the distances themselves seemed quite considerable until Kramer realized that five minutes from a cigarette machine on a wet night was a very long way.
