like dandruff flakes. They parked in the club lot. There were at least a dozen other police cars, both marked and unmarked, nearby.
'Please come along,' Taller said.
Myron did so. They walked across the eighteenth fairway.
Lots of uniformed officers were walking with their heads down, picking up pieces of lord-knows-what and putting them in evidence bags.
This was definitely not good.
When they reached the top of the hill, Myron could see dozens of officers making a perfect circle in the famed stone quarry. Some were taking photos. Crime scene photos. Others were bent down. When one stood up, Myron saw him.
He felt his knees buckle. 'Oh no . . .'
In the middle of the quarry sprawled in the famed hazard that had cost him the tournament twenty-three years ago lay the still, lifeless body of Jack Coldren.
The uniforms watched him, gauging his reaction. Myron showed them nothing. 'What happened?' he managed.
'Please wait here, sir.'
The taller cop walked down the hill; the shorter stayed with Myron. Taller spoke brieily to a man in plainclothes Myron suspected was Detective Corbett. Corbett glanced up at Myron as the man spoke. He nodded to the shorter cop.
'Please follow me, sir.'
Still dazed, Myron trudged down the hill into the stone quarry. He kept his eye on the corpse. Coagulated blood coated Jack's head like one of those spray-on toupees.
The body was twisted into a position it was never supposed to achieve. Oh, Christ. Poor, sad bastard.
The plainclothes detective greeted him with an enthusiastic handshake. 'Mr. Bolitar, thank you so much for coming. I'm Detective Corbett.'
Myron nodded numbly. 'What happened?'
'A groundskeeper found him this morning at six.'
'Was he shot?'
Corbett smiled crookedly. He was around Myron's age and petite for a cop. Not just short. Plenty of cops were on the short side. But this guy was small-boned to the point of being almost sickly. Corbett covered up the small physique with a trench coat. Not a great summer look. Too many episodes of Columbo, Myron guessed.
'I don't want to be rude or anything,' Corbett said, 'but do you mind if I ask the questions?'
Myron glanced at the still body. He felt light-headed.
Jack dead. Why? How did it happen? And why had the police decided to question him? 'Where is Mrs. Coldren?'
Myron asked. +
Corbett glanced at the two officers, then at Myron.
'Why would you want to know that?'
'I want to make sure she's safe.'
'Well then,' Corbett began, folding his arms under his chest, 'if that's the case, you should have asked, 'How is Mrs. Coldren?' or 'ls Mrs. Coldren all right'?'
not 'Where is Mrs. Coldren'?' I mean, if you're really interested in how she is.' +
Myron looked at Corbett for several seconds. 'God YouAreGood.'
'No reason for sarcasm, Mr. Bolitar. You just seem very concerned about her.'
'I am.'
'You a friend?'
'Yes.'
'A close iriend?'
'Pardon me'?'
'Again, I don't want to appear rude or anything,'
Corbett said, spreading his hands, 'but have you been you know porking her?'
'Are you out of your mind?'
'Is that a yes?'
Calm down, Myron. Corbett was trying to keep him off balance. Myron knew the game. Dumb to let it get to him. 'The answer is no. We've had no sexual contact whatsoever.' .
'Really? That's odd.'
He wanted Myron to bite with a 'What's odd?' Myron did not oblige him.
'You see, a couple of witnesses saw you two together several times over the past few days. At a tent in Corporate Row, mostly. You sat alone for several hours. Very snuggly. Are you sure you weren't playing a little kissyface?'
Myron said, 'No.'
'No, you weren't playing a little kissy-face, or no ' '
'No, we weren't playing kissy-face or anything like that.'
'Uh-huh, I see.' Corbett feigned chewing over this little tidbit. 'Where were you last night, Mr. Bolitar?'
'Am I a suspect, Detective?'
'We're just chatting amicably, Mr. Bolitar. That's all.'
'Do you have an estimated time of death?' Myron asked.
Corbett offered up another cop-polite smile. 'Once again, far be it from me to be obtuse or rude, but I would rather concentrate on you right now.' His voice gathered a little more muster. 'Where were you last night?'
Myron remembered Linda's call on the cell phone.
Undeniably the police had already questioned her. Had she told them about the kidnapping? Probably not. Either way, it was not his place to mention it. He didn't know where things stood. Speaking out of turn could jeopardize Chad's safety. Best to get out of here pronto.
'I'd like to see Mrs. Coldren.'
'To make sure she's okay.'
'That's sweet, Mr. Bolitar. And very noble. But I'd like you to answer my question.'
'I'd like to see Mrs. Coldren first.'
Corbett gave him the narrow cop-eyes. 'Are you refusing to answer my questions?'
'No. But right now my priority is my potential client's welfare.'
'Client?'
'Mrs. Coldren and I have been discussing the possibility of her signing on with MB SportsReps.'
'I see,' Corbett said, rubbing his chin. 'So that explains your sitting together in the tent.'
'I'll answer your questions later, Detective. Right now I'd like to check up on Mrs. Coldren.'
'She's fine, Mr. Bolitar.' .
'I'd like to see for myself'
'You don't trust me?'
'It's not that. But if I am going to be her agent, then I
must be at her disposal first and foremost.'
Corbett shook his head and raised his eyebrows.
'That's some crock of shit you're peddling, Bolitar.'
'May I go now?'
Corbett gave the big hand spread again. 'You're not under arrest. In fact' he turned to the two officers 'please escort Mr. Bolitar to the Coldren residence.
Make sure nobody bothers him on the way.'
Myron smiled. 'Thank you, Detective.'
'Think nothing of it.' As Myron began to walk away, Corbett called out, 'Oh, one more thing.' The man had definitely watched too much Columbo. 'That call you got in the squad car just now. Was that from Mrs. Coldren'?'
Myron said nothing.
