The Shadow 200 by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

MENTION of the new clubs brought a pleased expression to Rigger’s face. A trace of worriment wiped itself from the crook’s lips. The game that Rigger was planning looked like a sure one. Never having used his clubs before, Gunthrew would not recognize one driver from another.

Garry Cleeve looked out from the doorway, saw that the driving tee was deserted. He suggested getting two caddies and trying some practice drives. The idea suited Gunthrew. It pleased Rigger, too. As soon as Garry left, the darkish man stepped up to Gunthrew and asked:

“What locker number, sir?”

Gunthrew gave the number and handed his golf bag to Rigger. The crook didn’t go to the locker right away. He placed the bag beside his own, and pretended that he had another errand. When he came back, Gunthrew had gone ahead to the locker.

Tipping Gunthrew’s bag with his knee, Rigger sent it to the floor. The clubs slid halfway out; in straightening, them, Rigger slid the driver farther. It was lying on the floor when he set the bag upright. Picking up the club, Rigger replaced it, not in Gunthrew’s bag but in the one he had brought from the station.

His hand moved to his own driver. Giving a shifty look over his shoulder, Rigger saw that no one was watching. He removed his own driver carefully and placed it in Gunthrew’s bag, which he promptly carried to the locker, where the mustached man was changing clothes.

Garry returned, saying that he had hired the caddies. He didn’t even glance at Rigger, who was standing near the wall.

Gunthrew started to pick up his bag; decided he wouldn’t need it. Filling his pockets with golf balls, he pulled the driver from the bag and started out to the tee with Garry.

Rigger read the full name on a card set in the front of the locker. It said: “Homer Gunthrew.” Grinning, Rigger decided that the name would look good under the man’s picture when it appeared in the next day’s newspapers.

From the doorway, Rigger watched the two men approach the practice tee. He reached to a pay telephone that was set against the wall and removed the receiver from the hook. He saw Cleeve tee up a line of golf balls, then wait while a sauntering caddy reached his position, a few hundred yards away.

Garry stroked the golf balls one by one. His drives were good, though some had a slice. The caddy started to gather them up, and Garry stooped to help Gunthrew arrange his tees. By then, Rigger was outside the doorway and starting toward the practice tee.

“Telephone call for Mr. Cleeve!”

Hearing Rigger, Garry turned, saw the fake attendant beckon. Gunthrew finished setting up his golf balls; stood holding the driver, waiting for his companion to return. Garry, meanwhile, was working at the telephone hook, trying to get the operator. Gunthrew did exactly what Rigger expected.

Seeing that his caddy was in position, the mustached man decided to get in all the drives he could while daylight remained.

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