The Golf Club Murder by Ben Westerham

Author:Ben Westerham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: murder mystery, crime fiction, mystery series, detective book, police mystery
Publisher: Ben Westerham

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As the footsteps of the two policemen faded along the corridor outside his office, Arnold Hurst swore profusely, then snatched up the ashtray on his desk and hurled it against the furthest wall. It left a deep indentation before it clattered to the floor, lumps of old tobacco scattered everywhere. Matters were getting out of hand. Action needed to be taken.

Chapter Sixteen

The two policemen arrived back at the station to find a surprise waiting for them. For one of them it was a tad embarrassing, for the other it was definitely amusing. Shapes, guessed Dykeman from the start, was in some sort of bother and it quickly became apparent that the Inspector’s suspicions were right on the money.

Standing in the middle of the large reception area was the substantial figure of Ivy Davey, Shapes’s recently acquired lady friend. It was, thought Dykeman, the first time he had seen her looking anything other than bubbly and happy. Her considerable breasts were resting on folded arms and there was a sour look on her round, fleshy face. As they approached Ivy, her eyes fixed on Shapes and instantly narrowed.

“Stanley.”

It was only one word but it conveyed so very much. Certainly enough for Shapes to realise he was in hot water, though he struggled to think why that might be.

“Ivy.” The reply was timid, Shapes beginning to feel a slight tightening in his throat.

“What time is it, Stanley?”

Shapes hesitated. What did the time have to do with anything? He looked over at the large clock hanging on the wall behind the front desk, where, he also noticed, Sergeant Stanley Blunt was seated and was grinning at him in a manner that suggested he was anticipating something entertaining.

“Twenty minutes past seven,” answered Shapes, hesitatingly.

“And where were you supposed to be at half past six?”

“Where was I…” The words trickled to an end as the nature of his predicament dawned on the hapless Sergeant.

“Well?”

“Er, I was supposed to be meeting you and your mother at the cinema,” he replied, aware his cheeks were starting to feel more than a little warm.

“Yes, you were. My mum’s gone home. Got fed up waiting for you after the film had started. Couldn’t understand how her future son-in-law could be so rude.”

“Future… rude… but…”

“No, it’s no good apologising to me, it’s my mum you need to say sorry to.”

Don’t fall for that, thought Dykeman, struggling to control a snicker. She expects you to say sorry to the both of them, not just the mum.

“Er, yes,” stuttered Shapes, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

Ivy leaned in close to him and sniffed. “Been drinking, have you?” It was assuredly more an accusation than a question.

Shapes glanced at Dykeman, then down at the floor. He was beginning to feel like a school child, called to see the headmistress after misbehaving.

“Just the one, with the boss. It’s been a long day,” he muttered.

“Well, I suppose I can tell my mum you had to go off on urgent police business,” offered Ivy, straightening Shapes’s tie. “She’ll probably let you off, this time.

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