the heatwave started?' 'Don't remember,' said the boy with that indifference to temporal matters that is one of the blessings of childhood and one of the penalties of age. 'So where was this?' said Joe, moving from time to place. It was a clever move. Suddenly he got precision. 'Coming down Plunkett Avenue from the bypass about half a mile away,' said Liam. 'I'd been round at my mate Trent's-' 'So this was evening?' interrupted Joe. 'That's right, late on, still light but fading-' 'So nine-ish?' said Joe. 'Bit later. Mum got real ratty, says I should be in by nine on a school day. Anyway, this silver Audi goes by and there's Steve in the passenger seat. I gave him a wave, thought I might get a lift, but he didn't see me.' 'So did you mention this next time you saw him?' Liam's face went slack, which in another age might have been taken as evidence of incipient idiocy, but which Joe recognized as signifying the modern teenager's entry into deep-thought mode. 'No,' said the boy finally. 'Didn't mention it 'cos I didn't see him again.' 'You mean…?' 'Yeah. He was up in his room when I got back, and next morning must have been the day he took off. What do you think I should do about the picture?' 'Best keep it safe,' advised Joe. 'You a Chelsea fan?' 'No,' said the boy indignantly. 'Luton!' 'Good lad!' said Joe. 'Could be a cracking season ahead, specially with Sir Monty coming up with the cash to sign the Croat kid.'
'Mebbe,' said the boy with that natural skepticism which marks the true Luton supporter. 'Tell you next April.'
Joe's musically attuned ear told him the dining-room duet was reaching its climax. It didn't sound as if Mrs. Tremayne was going to return in a better temper than when she left, which was an excellent reason to be on his way. He'd got all he was going to get here, though as usual he'd no idea whether it was worth the effort.
'Mebbe see you at the ground sometime, Liam,' he said. 'Say goodbye to your mum for me.'
He made his way out, glancing at his watch. Still a couple of hours before he needed to think about getting to the airport. His visit to Lock-keeper's Lane had proved more productive than he'd anticipated, but he refused to let himself get carried away, mainly because his limited imaginative powers couldn't picture any destination he might be carried away to.
But he did know where it was worth looking for a silver Audi 8 Quattro.
He paused at the mini-roundabout at the top end of Lock-keeper's Lane to work out the best route to the Royal Hoo.
Straight across was going to be quickest, he decided.
And it was little surprise to discover after he'd negotiated the roundabout that he was driving along Plun- kett Avenue.
18
A Patch of Oil
It occurred to Joe as he was parking his car that on this occasion he didn't have the protective cover of an invitation from the YFG.
On the other hand, no one here was going to know that, he told himself, and in any case he wanted to keep a low profile.
He checked his gear. He was dressed for his Spanish trip. If it had been a holiday he would definitely have traveled in the parrot shorts, but as it was business he'd opted for canary yellow chinos, green T-shirt and blue deck shoes. Nothing there to cause offense in a place where plus-fours and tartan trews were regarded as sharp gear.
It was still early, but golfers must like an early start for there was already an impressive array of high-priced metal on display in the car park, including two silver Audi 8's.
The first he looked at was the 3-liter diesel model.
'Some poor sod on the bread-line,' mused Joe, making for the other.
This was the big boy, the Quattro 6. He strolled round as if admiring the lines. No sign of Waring's belongings inside. Must be still in the boot. He noticed that the tire had picked up some mud which was quite a feat round Luton during the heatwave. Except of course he was in Royal Hoo mini-climate land where you could probably summon the steward and order mud.
'Mr. Sixsmith.'
He looked up to see Chip Harvey approaching carrying what looked like a portable mummy case.
The young man didn't look happy to see him. It was understandable. Last time they'd met here, he'd been the YFG's guest and a well-heeled prospective member. After last night he was just old Joe, the snoop.
He said, 'Hi, Chip. How're you doing? Have a good time last night?'
'OK,' grunted Chip, which didn't come across as the modest disclaimer of a guy who had raved it up round the clubs before being taken to the bosom and wherever else he fancied of the gorgeous Eloise. Maybe things hadn't panned out.
He said, 'Just admiring the Audi. Nice wheels.'
'OK if you like that sort of thing,' said Chip with the disdain of youth to whom Vorsprung durch Technik means dull in any language.
Then to Joe's surprise he reached down and started to unlock the boot.
'Hey, this isn't your machine, is it?'
'Don't be silly,' said Chip as the lid slowly rose allowing Joe to see that he'd got another guess completely wrong. The boot was empty except for a piece of dark blue carpeting of a quality Joe couldn't afford for his living room. Chip's sharp young eyes spotted an imperfection that Joe had missed. He reached in and touched the carpet with his index finger. He raised it to reveal the tip was oily. Frowning, he took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his finger and then rubbed the linen square vigorously over the offending piece of carpet. It took a lot of rubbing till he was satisfied, by which time his handkerchief was ruined. 'You do car-valeting too?' inquired Joe. 'These things cost too much to get them dirty,' said Chip, laying the mummy case gently inside. It was made of a rich black leather with a zipper and some strap buckles that looked like they could be real old gold. 'Just what is that thing?' asked Joe. 'It's a travel case,' said Chip. 'You put your golf bag and clubs in it so they don't get knocked around when you're flying abroad.' 'Shoot! You mean it's going to go in the plane's hold and you're worried about a bit of oil?' 'I'm not worried, but Mr. Rowe might be.' 'That would be Colin Rowe?' 'That's right. It's just been delivered and he asked me to put it in his car. He plays abroad a lot so he needs his clubs well protected.' 'What happened to his last one?' 'Got ripped up coming back from Portugal the other week.' 'There you go! Way those handlers throw things around, he'd be better off using a couple of bin-liners. I mean, this thing looks more pricey than most of what I take on holiday!' 'You'd be amazed. Special order, we don't keep these babies in stock. But Mr. Rowe wanted an exact replacement. Insurance paying, why not?' 'Suppose. Mr. Rowe, is he one of the good guys or one of those who talk like you're not there?' He'd moved off the acceptable ground of talking about how rich and important the Hoo members were. Chip slammed the lid down, and turned to face Joe. 'Mr. Sixsmith-' 'Joe-' 'Mr. Sixsmith. I really don't want to talk to you about what goes on at the club.' 'No? What's happened since last night?' 'I didn't want to talk to you last night either, but at least we were in a pub. Here, well, this is where I work…' 'And this is where you're going to get the money to put you on this tour thing, right?' 'That's right. The members are being very generous, giving me this chance to show what I can do…' 'With Chris Porphyry leading the way, wasn't that what you said?' 'Yes, maybe. But there are plenty of others and I need to think about them too. If you're going to make it to the top in this business, you've really got to put your game first.' Joe's areas of expertise were not all that extensive, ranging from the workings of the internal combustion engine to the history of Luton FC with not a great deal in between, but one thing he had learned by bitter experience was you had to be very careful what you said to a woman, 'specially one who was willing to give Jurassic George his marching orders when his training schedule got in the way of her raving schedule. He'd guessed earlier things hadn't gone too well for Chip last night. Now he thought he knew why.
'Didn't say this to Eloise, did you?' he asked.
'You been talking to her?' said Chip suspiciously.
'No need. But I'd guess you went on about how pissed you were at her inviting me along to the Hole. And she said she didn't take kindly to being told what she could and couldn't do, and what was your beef? And then you told her about the support package and you probably rattled on about your career in golf being the most important thing
