that Brian Mackie phoned earlier!' she said. He laughed out loud and threw a big, pink bath towel over her. 'Just as well I had water in my ears, then, and couldn't hear you!'
They dried off together, filling the small bathroom, and went back together naked into the bedroom. They began to dress, then Bob paused and touched her gently on the shoulder.
'Hey, honey.' It was almost a whisper.
She looked round, her eyes still soft from her climax. `What?'
I'm sorry I was so daft earlier on. About going back to work. You're not a plant to be kept in a greenhouse, or a nanny in a nursery.'
She reached up and touched his cheek, gently. 'It's OK. I understand. Maybe even better than you do.'
`How d'you mean?'
She looked at him, hesitating for a second. 'Well, I think it's that tape. It's hearing Myra's voice again, after all these years. It's stirred up all sorts of things in your mind. Most of all, it's reminded you that Myra was a working mother, and that she was coming home from school when she was killed. And something in you, way below the surface is saying, 'Don't take that chance, that lightning could strike twice.'
`But it won't, honey, it won't.'
He looked at her with complete and utter love. He opened his mouth, but could find no words. Instead he simply drew her to him and kissed her. After a few seconds, she put her hands on his chest, and drew back, smiling. 'Enough, Skinner! We got places to go, people to meet.' He nodded and picked up a clean shirt.
Oh, by the way,' she said. 'I really meant it when I said that Brian had called. It was around five. He asked if you could get in touch, when you've a minute.'
He pulled the shirt over his head and reached for his tie. OK. I'll get it over with now, while you're feeding Number One through there. I can hear him calling for supper.' He sat on the bed, picked up the telephone and dialled Mackie's mobile number.
`Hi Brian. ACC here. You called earlier.'
`Yes sir, thanks for getting back. I thought you'd want to hear this. There are two developments. First, we've discovered that Richard Andrews checked out of his hotel at last week's tournament on the Saturday… the day before it finished. We're looking all over the Edinburgh area to see if he's checked in somewhere else, but so far there's nothing.'
`Mmm,' said Skinner. 'From what Darren Atkinson told me, I'd guessed the first part of that.
As for the rest, if he came up here to bump off Michael White, in revenge for crossing his boss, he isn't the sort of guy who'd leave a calling card. What's the second thing?'
`That's from South Africa, sir,' said Mackie. 'I passed on your suggestion to Durban. They rang back late this afternoon. They'd done a hotel check earlier, and had come up with the names of two Australian guys who signed in on Monday, the day before M'tebe's old man was lifted, and checked out yesterday morning. The South Africans checked the register details with Oz, and they match two guys who are regular caddies on the Australian golf circuit, often for players who are clients of Greenfields.'
Skinner whistled. 'Well, did you ever! What a swell party this could be tonight! Give me those names, quick. I might bounce them off friend Masur, just to see if I can crack that smug Aussie smile of his!'
Thirty-one
The clubhouse dining room was situated directly above the bar and boardroom. Its panoramic view stretched out over the ninth and eighteenth greens, and beyond, across the rest of the undulating course, across the Truth Loch and across Witches' Hill itself, as it cast its great evening shadow across the land.
Places were set for thirty-six, but there was still ample floor space for the guests of the Professional Golfers' Association to mingle. Sarah and Skinner were welcomed formally by Andres Cortes, the PGA Chairman, and by Arthur Highfield.
As they took drinks from the tray offered by a striped-waistcoated waiter, Darren Atkinson, called across. 'Bob, over here!' The golfer was standing with a group which included Norton Wales and Hideo Murano, and five others, among whom Skinner recognised Ewan Urquhart and Deacon Weekes, the US Masters Champion. He took Sarah's arm and led her across.
`Hi, Captain, you sound in good form. Got over that rotten second shot at the eighteenth?'
Atkinson laughed. 'Yes, the putt helped me to forget!'
`Darren, Norton, Hideo, this is my wife, Sarah.' Atkinson shook Sarah's hand, Hideo Murano bowed and smiled, and Norton Wales gave her a twinkling wave. The golfer was about to complete the introductions when Susan Kinture flowed into the room.
`My dear,' she called out, advancing on the group, `so glad you could come.' She gathered Sarah in one arm and Atkinson in the other, her primrose trouser suit in contrast to, but not clashing with, Sarah's square-shouldered black dress… only slightly tighter around the hips and bust after the birth of Jazz… or with the golfer's pale blue tuxedo. 'I've fiddled the table plan, my dear. Darren's got me on one side and you on the other. Now come on and let's circulate.' She swept them away towards. another group.
As they moved off, the Marquis of Kinture rolled up in his wheelchair. 'Evening all,' he barked. He glowered at Atkinson. `Hear you took the piss out of my golf course this afternoon!'
The golfer smiled softly. 'Perfect conditions, Hector, just perfect.'
The Marquis glowered again. 'If you even whisper 'I told you so', I shall arise from this chariot and smite you!'
I wouldn't do that old chap… whatever I was thinking.' There was an air of tension between the two which puzzled Skinner, but before he could dwell on it Deacon Weekes moved alongside him, introducing himself. 'I hear you're the top cop in these parts,' said the Masters winner.
`Second top, in fact.'
`That'll do for me, sir. Has your being here got anything to do with that thing on Sunday?'
Indirectly. I'm taking Michael White's place in Darren's team.'
Ah said Weekes. 'Were you out with him this afternoon?' Skinner nodded.
`How was he?'
In two words? Bloody awesome!'
I heard he shot sixty-three.'
‘You heard the truth. Nine birdies. It was like playing with God.' He paused. 'How about you, did you play a full round today?'
`Yeah, three of us played together,' said Weekes. 'I got it round in sixty-seven. So did Ewan.
We were both pretty pleased with that, till we heard what Mr Merciless had done. The poor kid Oliver, though, he was really off. That thing with his pop has really shaken him up.'
`Mmm; said Skinner. 'You didn't play with your teams, then?'
`Nah! That's Darren's scene. Nothing left to chance. It'll be like Christmas in Georgia for me, if I win the Million. But Darren won't be happy unless he wins the team prize as well. What's your handicap, Bob?'
`Seven.'
`Better be sure you play to it! How many shots did he give you today?'
`Ten. I thought he was being generous, till I found I'd shot a gross seventy-five and hadn't won a hole.'
Weekes shook his head. 'Tell you something. If he'd given you eleven shots, he'd have shot sixty-two and you still wouldn't have won a hole. Darren hates to lose to people he thinks he
should beat… and he thinks he should beat everybody. When he finished second in the US PGA, I knew the rest of us were in for a lean time through to the end of the season.'
Even you pros rate him that highly?'
`Hate to say it, but yeah, we do. The kid Oliver might have the talent to give him a game, but he doesn't have the steel. It isn't just golf with Darren. Sure he wants to win first prize every time he tees off, and he hates it when he doesn't, but he thinks that way in everything he does.
He doesn't only want to be Number One in golf, he wants to be Number One in the game of life!'
Skinner looked across the room. Atkinson stood in a circle with Susan Kinture, who was still holding his arm,
