Read Online Hole in One by Catherine Aird - Free Book Online

dismissively. ‘What I need to know is how exactly do I get to start caddying here?’
    Bert Hedges, visibly fascinated by the girl’s bare midriff, began to say something about in her case sitting on the bench and showing her ankles as well as her tummy would probably
do the trick but thought better of it and subsided into silence.
    â€˜You wait your turn like everyone else, miss,’ said someone else.
    â€˜You could get a golfer to ask for you,’ said Fred Shipley. ‘Like your father.’
    She scowled. ‘Not my father.’
    â€˜Or, in your case, miss,’ said Dickie Castle, his expression absolutely deadpan and his voice solemn, ‘having a word with the professional might help.’
    â€˜Do anything to help the ladies, will Jock Selkirk,’ chimed in Hedges, winking behind the young woman’s back. ‘I’m sure he’d put in a good word for you with the men.’
    Hilary Trumper gave him a long considering look but said only ‘Right, I’ll ask him.’
    â€˜But no one’s going out just now anyway,’ said Hedges ‘because of this body they’ve found.’
    The girl’s head came up with a jerk. ‘Body?’
    â€˜In the bunker behind the sixth. They’re getting it out now.’

Chapter Seven
    Provisional Ball
    â€˜Teaspoons?’ echoed Superintendent Leeyes in patent disbelief. He glared suspiciously at Sloan from under his bushy eyebrows. ‘Who says so?’
    â€˜The Curator of the Greatorex Museum,’ said Sloan. He had returned to the Clubhouse to report their findings at the sixth green.
    â€˜You’re not having me on by any chance, are you, Sloan?’ The Superintendent had commandeered the little office of the Secretary of the Golf Club as his battle station. He was sitting there now amidst a welter of paperwork that had no connection with any police enquiry. Instead the walls were festooned with lists and charts that had everything to do with all eighteen holes of the Berebury Golf Course and nothing whatsoever - as far as he knew, that is – to do with the contents of the deep bunker at the back of the sixth green.
    Sloan shook his head. ‘Teaspoons, that’s what Mr Fixby-Smith at the Museum said were what you needed when you were working in sand.’
    The Superintendent’s eyebrows came together in a frown. ‘Isn’t he that funny fellow with the hair?’
    â€˜Rather on the long side,’ conceded Sloan.
    â€˜Wears odd jeans and funny jumpers?’
    â€˜That’s him.’ With an effort Sloan averted his eyes from the Superintendent’s clothes. His superior officer was presently attired in a bright green jersey hand-knitted in cable stitch, a pair of elderly plus-twos trousers, and stockings of a yellow and red diamond pattern worthy of a cross-gartered Malvolio. The jeans presumably went with the Curator’s territory these days: he wasn’t so sure about the Superintendent’s outfit.
    â€˜Teaspoons!’ snorted Leeyes again.
    â€˜Mr Fixby-Smith,’ persisted Sloan, ‘says they’re best for
very delicate excavations in sand.’ Prompted by the sight of the Superintendent’s stockings, his mind wandered away from the matter in hand and back to his schooldays again. There had been trouble getting any boy to take the part of Malvolio in Twelfth Night let alone wear yellow stockings. In fact the play hadn’t gone down at all well with the English class … He came back to the present. ‘And Mr Fixby-Smith says he’s done a lot of excavations in the desert.’
    The Superintendent rolled his eyes heavenwards. ‘Teaspoons …’
    â€˜Not spades, he meant,’ amplified Sloan. ‘And he knows a lot about sand.’
    Leeyes grunted.
    â€˜It’s an adult male in there, the doctor says,’ offered Sloan without further explanation. Why males should have brows more ridged than