and very attractive Cynthia Cooper, knew all this. They had done their homework. Cynthia was about twenty years younger than Rick. The age difference enhanced their teamwork.
The men’s locker room had been cordoned off with shiny plastic yellow tape. The employees of the club, all of whom had seen enough wild stuff to write a novel, had to admit this was the weirdest of the weird.
The locker room, recently remodeled, had a general sitting room with the lockers and showers beyond that. The exterior door faced out to the parking lot. An interior door was about thirty feet from the golf shop with a stairway in between which first rose to a landing and continued into the men’s grill, forbidden to women. If a man walked through the grill he would wind up in the 19th Hole, the typical sort of restaurant most clubs provide at the golf course.
Getting in and out of the men’s locker room would have been easy for Charlie’s killer. As the golfers had come and gone, the only people around would have been those who’d been dressing for dinner in the main dining room or down in the tavern way at the other end of the huge structure. There would be little traffic in and out of the locker room. The housekeeping staff cleaned at about eleven at night, checking again at eight in the morning since the locker rooms never closed.
Charlie Ashcraft had been found by a local attorney, Mark DiBlasi. The body remained as Mark had found him, sitting upright, slumped against locker 13. Blood was smeared on the locker. Charlie’s head hadn’t slumped to the side; blood trickled out of his ears but none came from his eyes or his mouth. It was a clean shot at very close range; a circle of powder burn at the entry point signified that. The bullet exited the back of his head, tore into the locker door, and lodged in the opposite wall.
Mark DiBlasi had been dining with his mother and wife when he left the main dining room to fetch his wallet from his locker. He’d played golf, finished at six-thirty, showered, and closed his locker, but forgot his wallet, which was still in his golf shorts. The moment he saw Charlie he called the sheriff. He then called the club manager. After that he sat down and shook like a leaf.
“Mark, forgive me. I know this is trying.” Cooper sat next to him on a bench. “You think you came back here at eight?”
“Yes.” Mark struggled for composure.
“You noticed no one.”
“Nobody.”
She flipped through her notebook. “I think I’ve gotten everything. If I have other questions I’ll call you at the office. I’m sorry your dinner was disturbed.” She called to Rick, “Any questions?”
Rick wheeled around. “Mark, who was Charlie’s latest conquest?”
Mark blushed and stammered a moment. “Uh—anyone new and pretty?”
Rick nodded. “Go on. I know where to find you. If you think of anything, call me.”
“Will do.” Mark straightened his tie as he hurried out.
“He’ll have nightmares,” Cynthia remarked.
“H-m-m.” Rick changed the subject. “Charlie’s four ex-wives. We’ll start there.”
“They all moved away, didn’t they?”
“Yeah.” He whistled as he walked through the men’s locker room to fix the layout in his mind.
A knock on the door revealed Diana Robb, head of the Crozet Rescue Squad. “Ready?”
“I didn’t hear the siren,” Cynthia said.
“Didn’t hit it. I was coming back from the hospital when you called, not more than a mile away.” She looked at Charlie as she walked back into the lockers. “Neat as a pin. Even his tie is straight.”
“Mark DiBlasi found him.”
Diana called over her shoulder, “Hey guys, bring in the gurney and the body bag.” Her two assistants scurried back out for the equipment.
“Mark said he was warm when he found him,” Rick informed her.
“Fresh kill.”
“We’ve already dusted. He’s ready to go.” Cynthia watched as the gurney was rolled in; the quarters were a bit tight.
“Put on your gloves
The men’s locker room had been cordoned off with shiny plastic yellow tape. The employees of the club, all of whom had seen enough wild stuff to write a novel, had to admit this was the weirdest of the weird.
The locker room, recently remodeled, had a general sitting room with the lockers and showers beyond that. The exterior door faced out to the parking lot. An interior door was about thirty feet from the golf shop with a stairway in between which first rose to a landing and continued into the men’s grill, forbidden to women. If a man walked through the grill he would wind up in the 19th Hole, the typical sort of restaurant most clubs provide at the golf course.
Getting in and out of the men’s locker room would have been easy for Charlie’s killer. As the golfers had come and gone, the only people around would have been those who’d been dressing for dinner in the main dining room or down in the tavern way at the other end of the huge structure. There would be little traffic in and out of the locker room. The housekeeping staff cleaned at about eleven at night, checking again at eight in the morning since the locker rooms never closed.
Charlie Ashcraft had been found by a local attorney, Mark DiBlasi. The body remained as Mark had found him, sitting upright, slumped against locker 13. Blood was smeared on the locker. Charlie’s head hadn’t slumped to the side; blood trickled out of his ears but none came from his eyes or his mouth. It was a clean shot at very close range; a circle of powder burn at the entry point signified that. The bullet exited the back of his head, tore into the locker door, and lodged in the opposite wall.
Mark DiBlasi had been dining with his mother and wife when he left the main dining room to fetch his wallet from his locker. He’d played golf, finished at six-thirty, showered, and closed his locker, but forgot his wallet, which was still in his golf shorts. The moment he saw Charlie he called the sheriff. He then called the club manager. After that he sat down and shook like a leaf.
“Mark, forgive me. I know this is trying.” Cooper sat next to him on a bench. “You think you came back here at eight?”
“Yes.” Mark struggled for composure.
“You noticed no one.”
“Nobody.”
She flipped through her notebook. “I think I’ve gotten everything. If I have other questions I’ll call you at the office. I’m sorry your dinner was disturbed.” She called to Rick, “Any questions?”
Rick wheeled around. “Mark, who was Charlie’s latest conquest?”
Mark blushed and stammered a moment. “Uh—anyone new and pretty?”
Rick nodded. “Go on. I know where to find you. If you think of anything, call me.”
“Will do.” Mark straightened his tie as he hurried out.
“He’ll have nightmares,” Cynthia remarked.
“H-m-m.” Rick changed the subject. “Charlie’s four ex-wives. We’ll start there.”
“They all moved away, didn’t they?”
“Yeah.” He whistled as he walked through the men’s locker room to fix the layout in his mind.
A knock on the door revealed Diana Robb, head of the Crozet Rescue Squad. “Ready?”
“I didn’t hear the siren,” Cynthia said.
“Didn’t hit it. I was coming back from the hospital when you called, not more than a mile away.” She looked at Charlie as she walked back into the lockers. “Neat as a pin. Even his tie is straight.”
“Mark DiBlasi found him.”
Diana called over her shoulder, “Hey guys, bring in the gurney and the body bag.” Her two assistants scurried back out for the equipment.
“Mark said he was warm when he found him,” Rick informed her.
“Fresh kill.”
“We’ve already dusted. He’s ready to go.” Cynthia watched as the gurney was rolled in; the quarters were a bit tight.
“Put on your gloves
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