he called to the steward. “When’s Mick Summers coming? You have told him to get here right away, haven’t you?”
“Done that, Mr. Church. Anything to drink just now?”
“Drink? No, I don’t want anything to drink, do I! Ah, Alice!”
She had no intention of leaving summarily or quickly.
“Let’s be positive, Phil. It may not be murder, but we all like a good mystery, don’t we? And on our doorstep, so to speak.”
“I suppose Arthur Root’s done all the right things, had to be done officially, but God knows I hope they can get all this cleared up soon. We don’t want the place cluttered up with large bobbies’ feet for long, do we?”
“Brought you your gin, Mr. Church,” Charlie Bliss offered, who hadn’t been told to. “Large one. And again for you, Ma’am? Yes? Very well.”
“Yes, get it cleared up,” said Phil Church, cradling the glass. “Today.”
“That’s not the way it’s going to happen.”
CHAPTER 3
“No Phil,” this woman was telling him, with an air of knowledgeable authority. “You can’t wish them away once those big official feet get through the door. You hoped they would pop a few questions and then go away. That’s not how a police investigation works, take my word. They come back again and again.”
“Well, you know how these things work, being on the Bench, I suppose. So what’s to be done? How do we handle the police?”
“Wait. And we don’t. But I rather think the Major will know. Better have a large brandy ready, Phil,” said Alice. “Doesn’t do his gout any good, but it’ll improve his temper. Bliss, this is on me.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” grovelled Bliss, who was very careful to be scrupulously polite to all the lady members. One ill-judged word, and he d behind the bar in some lousy pub down the town. “Balloon glass, of course, Ma’am.”
* * * *
“I’m not hanging around, not me. Not with the police involved. What about Tony? Can he keep his mouth shut, Mick?”
She was in the car park, keys to the silver Aston Martin in her hand.
Summers grimaced. It was serious, and it meant trouble. “He’s a bright kid. Knows when not to say too much. But I’ve got to get moving. I told you, this is more than serious, it’s a bloody calamity, Angie. It’s a corpse. A dead man.”
Not entirely coincidentally, Angie Knight’s thoughts were on just that subject. Mick’s lugubrious expression cheered her. She had been mulling over with some pleasure how absolutely convenient for her the news of an early death could be: that of her now-separated spouse. Quick and not too long delayed. With pain, if possible. Not murder, no. Yet a natural death was too good for him, she opined frequently to her intimates. She hoped a different kind of ending would take care of her ex- husband. Lingering and painful. Say a bad car wreck. She worked positively towards his downfall, so far without success. Why should the manipulative sod get into a decent club—it was like letting in a rat with rabies. Meanwhile, she could do without any complications in her life. “How’s Wednesday looking, Mick?”
“Well, why not, my love?”
“If you don’t get the push before then.” Then she added hastily, “Just joking. I don’t want you out. You’re too much of a good thing, Mick. I’ll make sure you’re all right, if anyone starts noseying around you-know-what.”
“Ah. Yes. Quite, Angie.”
Summers did know-what. His debts. They were accumulating, what with the interest Betsafe charged.
“I’m a fixture here, Angie. Yours. Want to put me on your mantelpiece?”
She demonstrated her feelings in unsubtle ways there and then.
“Randy brute, aren’t you?” smiled Mrs. Knight. “Real pro at it too.”
“All I want, a deader on the practice-ground. There goes my lessons for the week. Just what I need.”
* * * *
Phil Church recalled what he knew of previous encounters with a sudden death at Wolvers. He would take Alice Godalming’s advice. That was how he had become a successful and fairly rich businessman: an instinct for sound reasoning, together with his native caution, had done the trick. It would now, he was sure. Spread the load. And go easy on the gin.
“You’re right about this, Alice,” he said. “We need the Major’s advice.”
The timing was impeccable.
“—ah, Major! Here, Alice’s idea. Said you’ll need it.”
“Major! So glad you’re here,” said Mrs. Godalming. “Now, tell us all what’s happened. But Ted, where’s he got to?”
“Bless you, Alice, so kind of you, always said Ted was a lucky devil! I needed that, so I did! Well, he’s told you there’s a casualty—a set of bones—out at the diggings on the Kop? Said he would. Get on that little blower of his. I don’t get on with these tiny plastic things. An all-fíred damnable nuisance, couldn’t finish the round, doing well with the short irons, d’you see, wasn’t I, we were one up one to go, all we needed was a half, but that gets no fiver apiece for myself and Ted, does it, an unfinished round, eh? He’s showering, slow. Should have been in the mob, that’d have shifted him—! Where was I? Ah, phone! Things need sorting out instanter, got to talk to the right people. Get to the top, you see, before the balloon goes up, as we used to say—Phil, I’ll need your office.”
Church knew exactly why.
“But at least tell us what you’ve seen, will you?” pleaded Alice. “Oh, the hell with it, I will have another. Major; don’t rush off just yet, please. Phil and I quite appreciate that you were about to contain matters, but at least wait for a moment to tell us what these ghastly matters are. Major? I am right, Phil?”
“Of course, Alice. Alf?”
“Of course, damned impolite of me! My apologies, my dear! All right, it’s a wretched business. The body’s been in the ground for years, no telling how long, according to what Root’s lad’s just told me—Gary’s his name, been in the military, as you two know, so he’s up to the mark, knows how to make a report—yes, he’s seen the remains. It’s all that’s left of some poor devil. Old bones, according to Arthur Root. A big skull, prominent eyebrows and jaw, so it will be a man’s.”
“Did you see the bones yourself, Major?” said Alice Godalming.
“No. Not my place to. Arthur Root doesn’t want anyone trampling around before the specialists come. Quite right too. Anyway, I wasn’t going back up that hill and down again onto the old Cartwright land. Told my team we’re best out of it. Better here. Yes, Bliss. All of us.”
Phil Church decided that, on balance, this was best left to the Wolvers Captain. Alice thought about criminals she had sent down. Charlie Bliss felt a wonderful glow of importance. He would get to know all he could, and he would tell
