Match Play (25 page)

A
s he drives up to Marty Keeler’s house, he opens the garage with the remote on the visor and pulls in. Leaving the car running, he closes the garage door.

The door into the house is unlocked but it has an automatic closer so he blocks it open, turns on the kitchen lights and returns to the vehicle. Marty is passed out in the front passenger seat. He opens the door and picks her up. She is a small woman and easy to carry. Once through the kitchen door, he puts his back to it and pushes it shut. David lays Marty on the couch in the family room and returns to the kitchen.

When he opens the door to the garage, he can already smell the exhaust fumes. He opens three of the car doors and leaves Amy Blair asleep and leaning against the closed door.

David gets his briefcase out of the trunk and returns to the kitchen, closes the door, making certain it fits snugly. Satisfied, he presses a towel to the threshold to insure that none of the carbon monoxide leaks into the house.

He undresses and after taking the protective gear out of the briefcase, he puts it on, including gloves and cap. He takes his briefcase to the nearest bathroom and leaves it on the counter.

David returns to the couch, chooses a pillow and slaps Marty until she opens her eyes. She stares at him with confused and glazed fear and, at that moment, David sees hate and his father all at once, smirks and quickly smothers the life out of her. He removes her clothing, takes it to the master bedroom and deposits it in the hamper. He sets her shoes with the others in the closet. He carries Marty’s body to the bathroom and cuts the carotids and slowly begins the dissection. When the nipples are excised, rinsed and safely transferred to the small jar, he sets it on the backsplash.

After forty minutes have passed, David returns to the kitchen and finds a drawer of towels. He takes two and places them tightly over his nose and mouth, takes a deep breath and opens the door to the garage. The fumes burn his eyes. He hurries to the driver’s side and turns off the engine. The body in the back seat has a blue cast to it. Satisfied that Amy is dead, David leaves her and goes to the family room.

After moving the furniture to clear enough area to layout the greens, he returns to the bathroom and carries the arms and legs to the master bathroom and arranges them on the floor of the shower.

He carefully dries the torso and moves it to the family room. When it is oriented in the same direction as the fifth hole at Highland Meadows, he opens the food coloring and begins the first coat of green. He keeps the scorecard where he can see it, duplicating the shape of the green as closely as possible.

He sets up the eighth hole to his satisfaction and lays the scorecard near the body. It is marked for the 5th hole at the Highland Meadows Golf Club; a 3 in a circle for the birdie and in the box above, 6 up.

David stabs the number 8 pennant into Marty’s navel, rolls the ball marked with a bloody 9 across the floor, drops the newspaper scramble, watching it flutter near the green and is satisfied that the hole is finished.

He is ready to play again.

Amy Blair’s body is lukewarm and David does not like the blue cast to the skin. He wishes he had gotten to her before she died, because the moment he enjoys the most is when he looks into her eyes. That moment, the sensual quintessence of her soul leaving her body is what motivates him.

He dissects her in the bathroom and lays out the green in the family room, near the eighth hole. He carries the torso to the family room and places it with the buttocks pressed to the wall. He settles himself on the floor and begins to paint the green. It is a close representation of the green for the 13th hole at Highland, which is located in a canyon.

He punctures the abdomen with the number 9 pennant and places the Highland scorecard next to the body. It is marked for the 13th hole; par 4 and the box above, 7 up. He haphazardly drops the scramble to the floor and, with Amy Blair’s driver, he hits the blood-marked 10 ball on a high arch into the darkness.

The holes are finished. A par and a birdie; David is satisfied.

He makes a thorough survey of the house while turning off lights and puts everything back to normal.

He picks up his briefcase and enters the garage. It is almost midnight. He closes and locks the door from the kitchen into the garage, starts the car, presses the remote to open the garage door and a few moments later he is on his way back to Whiteford Country Club.

He reaches the parking lot and although he knew the clubhouse would be closed, he didn’t anticipate the bar gate closure across the entrance to the parking lot.

He parks Marty Keeler’s car on the street, wipes down the inside, steps out with his briefcase, locks the doors and wipes down the exterior. He throws the keys into the bushes along the street and walks to his car.

Fortunately, the parking lot is not fenced. He pushes his transmission into four-wheel drive and plows through the meadow-like long grass and flowering borders, and swerves around the bar gate and back onto the road.

David is exhausted and aware of his body odor, a subtle mix of perspiration and plastic. But at the same time he is exhilarated by the progress of the match
.
He shifts into two-wheel drive and looks forward to a shower and sleep.

FBI Violent Crimes Unit, Sylvania, Ohio, Sunday, July 21

L
ou Schein’s team is assembled in the conference room. Everyone is disheveled and exhausted after four months of chasing the match play killer, and especially so after the last twenty-four hours.

Lou, tired of cheap pastries, called a delivery service and had juices, muffins and fruit brought in.

Copies of two more autopsies have been distributed and the crime board has been updated to reflect the two murders discovered in Sylvania yesterday afternoon. Lou is examining the crime board and the visual monitor, trying not to appear beaten, but internally he is frustrated and discouraged over the eleven unsolved murders.

He turns to the group with an anguished smile. “All right, people, you’ve got the details of the two Sylvania murders, discovered by a friend of one of the victims. You each have a copy of the autopsy, and Nancy will be reporting on that in a moment. The next LPGA tournament is the Women’s British Open in Scotland and, from what we can surmise from the scrambles, we’re confident our killer will not go to Scotland but will be in Colorado for the Solheim Cup. It starts August 16.”

“We’ll all be here another week, then we’re on our way to Parker, Colorado.”

At this point, Mary Gibson wishes she could just have a cigarette and get some sleep. Roger Payne is tired, but the challenge and the chase have electrified him and he seems to have more energy with each murder. Bruce Phillips takes off his glasses and rubs his face. He’s tired of hotel rooms and fast food and wants this to be over. Nancy Cochran had no idea this assignment would take so long, and she misses Phoenix and her companion but she is dedicated to helping Lou and the rest of the team catch the psychopath.

Lou is scrutinizing his team, making sure they are alert and attentive. “We’ve definitely got to slow this guy down. He won’t stop, not until we catch him or he finishes his game. By our calculations, he would have won the nine hole match at five wins, so he is definitely playing eighteen. That means potentially, two more murders, and he has the rest of the season to commit them. I don’t think he is likely to strike here again, but he’s unpredictable and we can’t take a chance considering today is the last day of the Marathon Classic.”

Nancy Cochran, too tired to stand, starts her report. “Once again our killer has deviated from the norm, or his norm, and has killed two women and displayed them in the same room.”

“Marty Keeler, victim one, was drugged and smothered. Amy Blair, victim two, was also drugged but died of carbon monoxide poisoning. Forensics have surmised he left her in the car, in the closed garage with the engine running, while he killed victim one. Both victims’ blood alcohol levels were high. I have detailed the murders in the autopsy, but since the dismemberment and the placement of the bodies is so similar to past murders, I really have nothing more to add. Bruce has more information about the scrambles and scorecards.”

Bruce Phillips, the master of the scramble, began his report. “The eighth hole victim was transformed into the 5th hole at Highland Meadows. The scorecard is marked 6 up with a birdie on a par 4. She was forty-three years old. The scramble spells out: FIND YOUR BALL IN THE CUP. Looking at the tour schedule, I’m almost certain he’s sending us to the Solheim Cup, but I wasn’t sure until I saw the second scramble: THE CUP SPILLS BLOOD.

“The scorecard for the ninth hole victim is marked a par four, 4;4, 7 up. Victim two is forty-four years old, and she is positioned as the 13th hole at Highland Meadows. The longer I looked at the two scrambles the one word that stood out was CUP. Now I’m sure they’re a reference to the Solheim Cup in Parker, Colorado, in 3½ weeks.”

Phillips looks down at his notes and then continues, “Marty Keeler’s car was found back at Whiteford Valley on Saturday morning. Our killer must have used it to drive the victims to Marty Keeler’s house, then drove it back after killing the women. Nothing new there either, he is meticulous with every detail. His car was actually locked in the clubhouse parking lot that is blocked with a bar gate. He drove through the landscaping to get out. It’s another missed opportunity; the last person to leave the club locked the lot. He said there was a dark SUV in the lot, a green Lincoln Navigator, but he didn’t pay a lot of attention to it because he figured it would be there in the morning. We did get some castings off the tire tracks.”

“Thank you, Bruce and Nancy,” says Lou. “I’ve been called to LA to update Tom Bachman on what’s happened in the last week. I’ve arranged for us all to have some time off. Nancy is going to Phoenix and will meet us in Parker, Colorado, but the rest of us will take a flight together out of LA on Monday, July 29. The secondary team will follow up on any new leads and will stay in contact with me.”

Everyone applauds and then gathers their notes as quickly as they can.

Parker, Colorado
The Tenth Hole

D
avid arrives at Black Bear Golf Club shortly after nine-thirty in the morning with the intention of warming up until his reserved tee time. Since today is Ladies’ Day, he won’t be able to tee off until the ladies are on the course.

He feels too conspicuous in the middle of all the women golfers so he goes to the lounge for coffee until all but a few are on the course. He doesn’t spot the infamous FBI flyers, and no one pays attention to him.

Finally, he goes to the pro shop, pays his fees and get a bucket of range balls. It is a sticky, humid day and his shirt is glued to his back while he is warming up with his 3 iron. He’d like to take off his cap to cool his head, but knows his loose hair will attract attention.

A few women are hitting balls. He surveys them carefully, then moves closer to two of them. He sets his clubs at one of the tee boxes, sits at the nearest bench and begins to adjust his shoes. He sneaks an occasional peek, scrutinizing the women. Both appear to be in their early forties and are hitting the ball quite well. They are chatting back and forth as they practice. It is obvious they are friends and intend to play together.

He casually walks to his bag, pulls out a 5 iron and begins working the ball around the 180 flag. He makes his interest more apparent as the minutes pass and finally speaks to the nearest woman.

“You hit the ball very well,” he says with a smile.

“You mean for a woman, don’t you?” She smiles back and bends to pick up another ball.

“No, I think you have a very good technique.” He addresses his ball with his 1 iron and takes a careful back swing and hits a low, straight shot that is still in the air when it flies past the 200 yard marker.

She watches the flight of his ball before turning back to her own tee. He waits for her to hit again.

“I didn’t know it was Ladies’ Day. Do you have any sense of when I’m likely to get on the course? How late is it when everyone is out?” he asks her.

“Maggie and I are in the last group, and we’re scheduled for 11:12, about twenty more minutes. I think that’s it, and then they let the men go. You don’t normally play here?” She leans on her club.

“No, I’m from out of town, I’m going to attend the Solheim Cup, and I want to play some of the local courses. I’m from Oregon.”

“Oregon is such a beautiful state. I was there on vacation once.” She seems in the mood to talk.

“My business is in the Portland area, but I have a cottage at the beach and a cabin near Mt. Hood,” he offers, implying success.

“Well, enjoy your stay here.” Unimpressed, she turns back to her tee.

David wants to pursue the conversation further, he has a feeling about this woman; but his conversational skills seem to have abandoned him. He drops his iron in his bag and leaves for the putting green.

He’s been putting for several minutes when the two women come to the practice green to putt. It is almost eleven, and he is running out of time. He putts in their direction, they are laughing and chatting and seem to be having a good time.

He can’t find a reason to speak to this woman again; finally he just offers his name, one he is comfortable with. “I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Steven Johnson.”

She seems a little startled, but his hand is held out and she answers, “I’m Agnes Dell.” She takes his hand and turns to her friend. “And this is Maggie Baker. Mr. Johnson is from Portland, Maggie.”

They all smile at each other, but the conversation comes to a halt.

“I’m pleased to meet you both.” He has to say something. “It looks like you two are the only women left to tee off.” The driving range and putting green are filling up with male golfers.

“Maggie, he’s right. We’re going to play alone again this week.” She turns back to him. “The last group goes with the remainder, sometimes it’s three or, like today, only two. If there’s only one, they send her out with the next to the last group. It makes for five and that usually upsets the men who follow.

“Well, it was nice to meet you,” adds Agnes. “Come on, Maggie, let’s go check in and get our cart. Goodbye, Mr. Johnson.” And the two women walk off the green.



As they emerge from the pro shop the starter is calling Dell and Baker. They are attaching their bags to the cart.

“Agnes, ask him if he wants to play with us. Go ahead! At least we’ll have someone to talk to.” Maggie is pushing her friend in the middle of the back.

“No.” Agnes frowns. “We don’t even know him.”

“Oh, come on, he’s from out of town. What can it hurt? We can flirt with him all day and have some fun.” They get in the cart and pull away from the clubhouse.

Agnes won’t give in.

“Stop the cart!” Maggie almost shouts. She jumps from the cart and quickly walks over to the putting green.

“Maggie, don’t,” Agnes calls, but Maggie walks right up to him, skipping over putted balls that cross her path.

“Mr. Johnson, Agnes and I are wondering if you would like to join us.”

David, startled, looks up. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Yes, yes I would.” He smiles at her. “Just let me check in and run to my car for a moment. I left one of my wedges there.”

“Great! We’ll meet you on the tee.” Maggie turns and is practically skipping as she approaches her friend. She has a big “cat ate the mouse” smile on her face.

David walks quickly to the clubhouse, pays his fees, including a cart fee and drives to the Navigator, not just to get his wedge, but also the small bottle of sedatives from his briefcase in the spare tire compartment.

The women are already teeing off, and to his surprise, they are playing from the shortest men’s tee.

Agnes chides her friend, “Why don’t you just ride with him? Honestly, Maggie you go too far sometimes!”

“Oh, don’t be so married.” Maggie waves at David, then catches Agnes’ grimace.

They are on the 8th hole before David learns from the conversation that Agnes is married. She has three children and is in constant cell phone contact with them and her husband. David abandons any idea of making her his tenth hole.

He turns his attention to Maggie Baker. He doesn’t like her; she is intrusive and rather ridiculous. She is much more forward than any of the other women he’s chosen. She’s spontaneous and unpredictable, and he hates that she teases him. He feels scattered around her, not in control.

At the 12th hole, she starts taking clubs from her bag and rides with him to her ball when it is in the same direction as his. He just can’t connect, but the Solheim Cup will start soon and he must find his ball for the tenth hole.

“So did you and Agnes come to the course together?” His tone is matter of fact.

“No,” Maggie answers. “We always just meet here. Agnes and Bob are members, and I play as a guest. I had to give up my membership after my divorce.”

“I’m divorced too,” David says. “How long have you been on your own?”

“Two years. Since June of 2011. How about you?”

“About the same. We just finally gave up after eight years of turmoil. Do you have children?”

“I have a son who’s thirteen, but he lives with his dad. He made that choice when he was eleven. I get him twice a month for the weekend. He’s a great kid. Do you have children?”

“No, my wife couldn’t.” David pulls the cart up to her ball. She jumps out, looks to the green and decides she doesn’t have the right club.

“I need a 4 iron and I brought my 5, can I choke down on yours?” She looks up from the ball.

David hesitates a moment, but he can’t make an exception. “No,” he says with finality. “I don’t let anyone use my equipment.”

“Oh.” Maggie is surprised. “Okay.” She addresses the ball with her five, hits it crisply but it comes up short of the green.

She doesn’t say anything and David knows she is vexed, but letting someone use his club will spoil his round. She is chatty as ever by the time they reach the 15th tee. He feels compelled to ask her to play golf with him another day that week. He wants to play a round at Parker Golf Club on Friday and decides if she agrees to join him, he will play the tenth hole of the match then.

“I can play in the afternoon, but the morning is booked. Parker is a nice golf course; I’ve played there many times. I can meet you around one-thirty. Oh! That’s the first day of the Solheim Cup!” Maggie waits for David to respond.

“I’m only planning to go to the tournament on the weekend, so Friday will be fine. One-thirty works well for me also. Let’s plan on it! We can exchange numbers when we get to the clubhouse.” He is dubious about this choice. He also cannot shake a foreboding premonition that has been haunting him since he arrived in Parker. He hopes these feelings won’t cause him to make a mistake.

Maggie seems happy. “It’s a date!” She goes back to riding with Agnes for the remainder of the round. When they reach the clubhouse, he drives his cart to the Navigator to unload his equipment.

Moments later, the two women drive up. “Hey, Steve, did you forget about Friday?” Maggie hands him her business card.

David is sitting on the back end of the car; fortunately it blocks their view of his license plate. He throws up his arms. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot!” He takes the card from Maggie and says, “I’m afraid my cell phone is acting up, so I’ll give you a call from the hotel this evening.”

On the way back to his hotel, David works on his course management and how he will play the 14th hole of Colorado Golf Club, but he’s still not convinced Maggie is an adequate tenth hole. He decides to go prepared to play, if it feels right. If not, he will have to accept a change in plans.