Murder on the Links : part eight

Written on February 19th, 2010 by Adam in Murder on the Links

“…for the last ten years,” said Mr Smith. “But no-one knew. There’s no way anyone could have known.”

“Well?” said one of the officers. “Can we arrest him now?”

Mitch nodded then turned around to look at me. “Yes. Take him away.”

“Hang on a second,” I said, jangling my loose handcuff once more at the officers.

“Oh yes,” one replied and removed the offending bracelet.

“Well done, lad,” said Travers. Coming up behind me and slapping me hard on the back. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Thanks, I think,” I said. “So what did I miss?”

Travers let out a bwaaaaaaaaah!

“Remember the accountant, the one who Zelnick sent down? The one I told you about, had a heart attack?”


“Smith was his son. Blamed Zelnick for his death.”

And then the other occupant of the room, an older man with swept back white hair, stood up and approached us.

“Clint is it?” he said in a way that was a statement rather than a question.

I nodded dutifully and he looked to Mitch and raised an eyebrow.

“Erm, Clint, this is Mr Forsyth,” said Mitch deferentially. “My boss.”

“Well done, lad,” said Forsyth. “That was pure cabaret. Brilliant lunacy. I loved it.”

“Blind luck if you ask me,” said the other officer as he dragged the still smoking golf bag out of the bar. “There’s no way he could have known that the accountant was related to any of this.”

“Blind luck?” said Forsyth. “What do you have to say about that Clint?”

“I don’t know about that, there were, well… clues I suppose you’d call them and, well people told me stuff and…”

Mitch opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it.

“So, Clint,” Forsyth continued. “Blind luck was it?”

“Course not,” I said, reassured. “Just seemed obvious really.”

“Whatever it was you got a confession from someone who, until minutes ago would have gone free.”

He nodded and looked at me for a second without speaking.

“Well it appears we have an opening for a man of your talents at the Agency.”

I waited for him to stop, to backtrack on the offer but it appeared he was serious. I looked over to Mitch who just nodded ever so slightly.

“So, my little defective detective. What do you say?”

“Erm. Okay.”