Whisper For The Reaper by Jack Gatland (best book series to read TXT) 📕

red, V-neck jumper over a blue polo neck, he looked like he’d just finished a round of golf, which, in all actuality, he probably had.

‘Thought I’d save you the hassle of trying to find me,’ he said, shaking their hands. ‘Alfie Bates. I’m the manager here. I got a call, saying you wanted to see the green?’

‘If possible,’ Monroe said, before looking sheepishly to Declan. ‘If that’s what you were thinking?’

Declan nodded, annoyed at Monroe. Not because he’d spoken, but because he kept looking to Declan for orders. They’d have to chat about that later.

‘You’ll be unimpressed,’ Alfie explained, already walking to the right of the building, expecting them to follow. ‘It rained last night, and we’ve had sprinklers on. There’s nothing left to see.’

‘It’s more a case of getting a feel for the place,’ Declan explained. He’d already seen the crime scene photos of Nathanial, laid out on the green, arms outstretched either side, one wrist bleeding into the hole while the other puddled around the flag, held in Wing’s left hand. Declan hadn’t missed the fact that he was laid out in a representation of the Red Reaper.

‘Do you have any CCTV of the night?’ Monroe asked. Alfie nodded.

‘We do, but it’s not great. We only have a couple of camera light things and they’re not HD. It’s mainly for insurance reasons. Not many people want to rob a golf club, and it’s not like we’re gated or anything.’

‘I saw that,’ Doctor Marcos looked back to the main road. There was no fence, no wall, nothing. ‘Why is that?’

‘We can’t withhold access to the public,’ Alfie explained as he led them across the car park towards a gap in the hedge. ‘There’s a public footpath that goes across the course, between the twelfth and thirteenth greens. Bloody annoying, to be honest. Comes out on a dirt track that goes under the A404, and continues out of the entrance, across the road and then around the fields towards Prospect Hill. Ramblers are a sodding nuisance, always walking across just as someone’s about to tee off.’ He paused. ‘You’re not ramblers, are you?’

‘Love it,’ Declan deadpanned. ‘Do it all the time.’

‘Ah, well, there’s a time and a place in my opinion,’ Alfie’s face reddened. ‘Anyway, this is the seventeenth hole, a tough one that doglegs left, and usually sees people trumped by that beech tree. Once past it, we’ll see the sixteenth. It’s a par three for the men, but a pretty standard par four for the ladies. It has a two tiered green, so expect a couple of puts to sink though.’

Declan glanced to the right, where the top of a building could be seen through the trees.

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘Apple Hill Nursing Home,’ Alfie replied, continuing on. ‘They back onto the first leg of the seventeenth. And they’re walled and gated, for about fifty yards. Then it turns into standard country fencing.’

Monroe looked to Declan at that. ‘He means three bar wooden fences, about chest high,’ Declan explained.

‘Easy to get over then,’ Monroe nodded. ‘We should check the home to see if they have CCTV.’

‘There’s a hotel across from them with a car park, too,’ Declan mused. ‘Might as well check everyone.’

‘About CCTV,’ Doctor Marcos interrupted. ‘You were originally telling us about yours?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Alfie stopped, looking sheepish. ‘We saw the boy, Wing? Yeah, he walked into the main entrance about eight, nine pm, clear as day on the video.’

‘Anyone with him?’

‘Nope,’ Alfie turned a corner on the fairway, and the sixteenth green came into view. ‘To be honest, he looked like any normal person. He walked to the right, like we did, stops, picks up something from the floor and then he was gone, out of frame.’

‘Anyone follow?’

‘Nope, clear footage for a good twenty minutes. And then it’s only Frank Peters turning up to drop a sheet off.’

By now they were standing on the green, and Declan could see that the water had mostly washed away the blood, although the white edge on the inside of the hole was still rimmed with a scarlet tint. Doctor Marcos, who had examined the images thoroughly, was now kneeling at the hole, looking up as she did so.

‘He was laid here,’ she said, opening a small compass app on her phone and looking at it. ‘North to south, arms outstretched, east to west.’

‘What do you mean, laid?’ Alfie frowned. ‘Lad killed himself, right?’

‘You’ve been a great help,’ Monroe walked over and shook Alfie’s hand warmly. ‘We can take it from here.’

‘Well, alright then,’ Alfie replied, backing away slightly as if realising he was intruding on police business. ‘Any questions, just let me know. And, if you want a round on me, just holler. We’re not starting players until Saturday, so there’ll be no balls landing around here.’

And, with a last look at the flag, now pulled out and placed onto the green as Doctor Marcos shone her torch deep into the green’s hole, Alfie turned and almost fled from the scene.

‘Thoughts?’ Monroe asked. ‘First one is that you shouldn’t keep deferring to me,’ Declan chided. ‘You’re DCI. You have experience in these. I’m only running this because I asked first.’

Monroe nodded, smiling. ‘Understood, laddie,’ he said, looking across the green and towards the road, the other side of the trees. ’So, the green can be accessed from the road over there. We’re shielded by the trees from the road, the care home, the clubhouse and the A404. If you’re looking for somewhere quiet while out in the open, it’s not that bad a place.’

‘There’s a lay-by down the road, too,’ Declan mused. ‘You could park there and no CCTV would catch you.’

‘So how do we catch this guy then?’ Monroe was staring down at the flag now. ‘We have nothing that proves that Wing was murdered, or even coerced to take his own life.’

‘Wing sliced both of his wrists open,’ Doctor Marcos was still peering down the hole. ‘There’s no blade of any kind. But there is something down here…’