The Art of Eavesdropping by Christy Barritt

Author:Christy Barritt [Barritt, Christy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: River Heights
Published: 2020-04-13T22:00:00+00:00

I watched as Art and two other men took their place at the eighth hole. The fence was close enough to them to work in our favor. That was the good news.

The bad news was that I was still a little anxious about what Michael had in store for us.

“Here goes nothing,” he leaned closer and whispered.

The next thing I knew, he flipped the hat from atop my head, and it went flying with the breeze over the fence.

“Oh, man!” Michael made a big production out of peering over the pickets and onto the greens below. “I’m sorry to interrupt your game, but my girlfriend’s hat just blew over there. Would you mind getting it for me?”

I watched carefully, curious about who would retrieve it. It was really a matter of chance, wasn’t it? Michael’s plan might not work.

But out of all three of the men, Art was the youngest. The other two appeared to be in their sixties or seventies.

Michael’s bet paid off.

Art walked toward the wayward hat and grabbed it for us. He flipped his hand out to give it back to Michael, a shiny, white smile on his face. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Art had only taken two steps away when Michael called him again.

“Hey, didn’t I see you before? At the Green Leaf Tavern maybe?”

Art froze.

I watched, soaking everything in, desperate to learn the tricks of the trade.

“Sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever been there before.” Art started to turn away again.

“No, I’m nearly positive it was you,” Michael said. “I remember your hair. It reminds me of John F. Kennedy Jr.’s. Impressive, by the way.”

Irritation crossed Art’s features. “I’m sorry, but I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“As a matter of fact, I think you were there the day Flash Slivinski was, right before the murder.”

That got Art’s attention. He glanced at his golf buddies before walking closer to us and lowering his voice. “What kind of game are you playing here? What do you want from me?”

“We just have a few questions,” Michael said, remaining coolly unflustered.

“Who sent you?”

“That’s not important.” Michael shifted. “We have video evidence showing you leaving the bar about three minutes after Flash Slivinski and Sarah Vance. Probably the perfect amount of time to follow them at a safe distance.”

His cheeks turned a remarkable shade of red. “You don’t know anything.”

“We know that you work for Windsor Washington Golf Clubs and your company gave Flash one of his highest paid endorsement deals.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Art raised his chin.

“We also know that you want to drop him from your lineup,” Michael continued. “But doing so would probably cost you an arm and a leg. Considering business is already struggling . . . it seems like heads were going to roll.”

Art glanced back at his teammates and called, “You guys go on without me. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

The men muttered something before turning back to the game.

Art shifted toward us. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I didn’t do anything.

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