The Last Teacher_A Stand-Alone Mackenzie Mystery by Alan Lee

Author:Alan Lee [Lee, Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sparkle Press
Published: 2015-04-13T04:00:00+00:00

33

I stood beside the green of the fourth hole. From there, I watched golfers approach and putt, and then tee off on hole five. A generous opposing coach had suggested it during our first match in September. I also bought a visor similar to the one he wore during that first match. Standing beside the fourth green, with my visor and sunglasses, I was a seasoned veteran.

South Hill Middle had this match with Bluestone Middle rescheduled due to the murder earlier in the month. Otherwise, golf season would already be over. Today marked the final day of golf. Our team wasn’t in contention for postseason play. We stunk.

Attendance at golf matches also stunk. A very small handful of faithful parents showed, and today so did Mr. Cummings.

Mr. Cummings was on the school board. I’d seen him once touring the middle school. He had silver gray hair combed to the side and had I been a fifty-year-old lady I’d probably swoon. Today he wore a dark green suit, with an even darker green, expensive tie with a gold tie-bar and gold cufflinks. On his right hand gleamed a large gold ring. Looked like a Virginia Tech ring. Money personified.

“Mr. August.” He had an easy, practiced smile. I wanted to buy something from him already. He held out his hand sideways, palm up. I considered giving him five, but shook his hand instead. “I’m Russ Cummings, of Cummings Financial Planning. Hell of a team you got here.”

“I see you haven’t been checking the scorecards, Mr. Cummings.”

“Hah,” he chuckled and clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m not talking about the score, Mr. August. I’m talking about the boys. Fine young men.”

“That they are.”

“You’ve done a good job here. Helluva job. We’re very proud of you. I’m on the school board, I guess I should have mentioned that.”

“The school board is proud of South Hill Middle’s golf team?” I asked.

“We’re proud of all our teams, Mr. August. And especially our coaches. We know a good thing when we see it.”

Flattery never appealed to me, especially when it smelled of bull, so I said nothing. One of our golfers bounced a ball onto the lip of the green from one hundred fifty yards out. I clapped, but not as loudly as Mr. Cummings. He also whistled.

“Beautiful day,” he said. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked around at the trees, which looked more and more like fireworks as the days advanced into fall. Autumn in the flat tobacco lands of southern VA was going to be spectacular. LA might have great weather year round, but it didn’t have this. “Perfect day for golf.”

“Most days are.”

“Maybe I’ll take you golfing one day. My treat. Before the weather turns cold. What do you say to that?”

“I’d say I’m sure glad I wore my lucky underwear. Good stuff always happens to me when I wear them.”

He took his time before answering.

“You’re making sport of me, aren’t you?”

“Just killing time until you get to the good stuff.”

“How do you know there is good stuff?” he asked.

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