Read TURTLE DOVE (Alton Rhode Mysteries Book 7) Online
Authors: Lawrence De Maria
TURTLE DOVE (Alton Rhode Mysteries Book 7) (7 page)
“Of course. But that’s not a knock on her knockers. She’s a cute kid.”
“You couldn’t keep your eyes off them.”
“Just because I’m on a diet doesn’t mean I can’t look at a menu.”
“She’s not a virgin, you know.”
I was surprised.
“You can tell just by looking at her?”
“She told me. We had a nice long talk on the deck when you were snoozing.”
“Nice girls like you talk about that kind of stuff?”
“You still consider me a nice girl after what we just did?”
“Perverts can be nice,” I said.
That got me an ear twist.
“Ouch.”
“Of course girls talk sex.”
“You didn’t talk about our sex life, did you?”
“I did mention that you liked to do it wearing a Santa outfit.” She laughed. “Of course, not. We’re not like guys. We’re not crude. It’s just interesting. She wanted to know about us, how we met and that sort of thing. One thing led to another. She’s had two lovers. More experiments than anything else. But she liked it.”
“Not exactly what I’d expected from a girl in Bible school.”
“You’re too prudish. Anna is just a normal, healthy college girl. She’s got her head on straight. She hopes to find the right guy eventually and settle down, raise a family. But she wants to finish her education and missionary work first.”
“With her brother?”
“Yes. I really like her.”
“So do I. She cooks a mean apple pie. If it’s any consolation, it’s what I imagine first when I think of her.”
“I’m not much of a cook.”
I rolled on top of her.
“Which is why I imagine this first when I think of you.”
A few minutes later I wasn’t thinking at all.
Alice has golfed, and she’s not bad. But for her, the game is a way to get some fresh air. She considers me a bit too competitive. I’ve suggested that I could tone down my fervor when playing with her. I’d even tried to sound sincere. She saw right through me.
“We’re in love,” she said. “Let’s not screw it up.”
That kind of common sense is one of the reasons I love her.
But I had gone fishing the day before, and broached the golf subject carefully.
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I did not expect, or want you, to be my nursemaid on this trip. This is supposed to be cathartic for the both of us.” She smiled sweetly. “Besides, you know I’ll get even. There are all sorts of academic dinners you will be expected to squire me to at Barnard.”
I hate academic dinners, and academic poseurs, to the point that Alice often asks me to leave my gun at home. But fair is fair.
“One other thing,” Alice said. “I expect a gourmet dinner at the club tonight. Followed by another night of ecstasy.”
“I didn’t know
Dancing with the Stars
was on TV tonight,” I said.
She stuck her tongue out at me and pedaled away for an Audubon tour of the island, to be followed by a day at the Shoals Club spa and reading a book by the pool.
Thus freed, at least temporarily, from domestic tranquility, I threw my clubs and golf shoes in the cart and headed to the Bald Head Island Country Club.
I probably should have reserved a tee time, because when I arrived it was obvious that the course was pretty busy. But I got lucky. The assistant at the desk in the clubhouse pro shop said that there was a regular group of permanent island residents going out in 15 minutes.
“They usually have four, but one dropped out. They were griping that it screwed up their betting game, so they wouldn’t mind a fourth, if you don’t mind losing a few bucks. What’s your handicap?”
I told him.
“You’d fit right in. They’re not hackers, but the PGA Tour is safe.”
“Sounds good,”
He picked up a walkie-talkie and called someone.
“Got a fourth for Fred’s group,” he said. “Tell them he’s coming out.”
An intelligible answer crackled back.
“You’re all set. All I need is your credit card.”
I gave it to him. He ran it then handed me a slip of paper.
“Give this to the starter. Have a nice round, Mr. Rhode. They are good guys and don’t fool around. Strict rules of golf. Play them as they lie and all that. One of them is the police chief. It’s his day off. If anyone cheats, he cuffs him. I’ll have someone bring your clubs out to the range and put them on one of their carts.”
I thanked him and then headed out to the practice area to meet the others in my foursome.
They were all a few years older than me, and obviously were pals. But they made me feel welcome. The police chief was named Fred Bentley. He was a short, stocky man with a gray crewcut and big ears. He would have looked better with longer hair, but he had a ready smile. The other two men, Jim Vitale and Charlie McAallister were real estate brokers, and looked the part. They laughed a lot.
An attendant had put my bags on Bentley’s cart. We all hit a few practice balls and then headed out to the first tee.
“I heard that you guys are sandbagging sharks, after tourist money.”
“You heard right,” Charlie said. “Playing golf without betting is like kissing your sister.”
“I’ve seen your sister,” Jim said. “All things considered, I’d rather play golf.”
“Up yours,” Charlie said and we all laughed.
I liked this bunch already.
“Is a $10 Nassau, front back and overall, too much for you,” Fred said.
“I’m shocked, shocked to learn that there is gambling going on in your jurisdiction, chief,” I said.
Jim said to Charlie, “
Casablanca
.”
“I know,” Charlie replied, a bit miffed.
“A $10 Nassua is just fine,” I said.
“Great, what’s your handicap?”
After a minute of mutual banter and not too much lying we worked out all the strokes, and Fred and I were partners against the other two. We’d play best ball in each cart. The most each of us could lose if we got completely shut out was $30, and that rarely happens. Besides, winners were expected to buy the drinks afterward in the clubhouse. I suspected that this bunch didn’t leave too much money on the table after a round.
The next four hours were pure bliss. It was a bit windy, as ocean courses usually are, but the layout was both beautiful and challenging. On one adjacent fairway I saw a foursome of women, one of whom was a tall redhead. I was pretty sure it was Alexandra Nidus. Bentley asked what I did for a living and, unlike some big city cops, did not have a problem with that. He had limited exposure to private investigators and was interested in what kind of cases I’d been involved in.
“We don’t get that kind of excitement down here,” he said, ruefully, at one point. “Just as well, I suppose. I have trouble attracting a good staff. I mean, I have some smart kids, but they are just punching a ticket before they move on to something better. Even turnover at the top was a problem, until I got here. I was a cop in Rocky Mount when this job opened up and I said what the hell. I could use some peace and quiet. My wife has some health problems. The ocean is good for her. The pay is good. Been chief seven years now. I think that’s a record.”
Fred was a decent golfer, and I managed not to embarrass myself, but we still lost $20 each, when he missed a 10-foot par putt on 18.
I teased him about it, and asked if I could make a citizen’s arrest, but I couldn’t hold his miss against him. It was a tough downhill putt with a severe break. Only luck would have gotten it in the cup at our skill level. At least he was on the green with a chance to tie the match. My ball was in the pond fronting the green, where it made an impressive splash just short of making landfall, much to the amusement of people watching from the terrace outside the club bar.
We all shook hands, exchanged a few final good-natured insults and headed into the bar. The place was crowded and lively, but we were able to snag a table away from the TV’s, from which various sports were blaring. A waitress walked over and took our orders. I asked for some munchies and she brought bowls of peanuts back with our bourbons and scotches. The first round went quickly and Charlie signaled the waitress for more drinks and peanuts. From there it was off to the races, and the winnings soon disappeared. Then we all chipped in some more money to keep the party going.
“Thank God they only allow golf carts on Bald Head,” I commented.
Fred laughed.
“Would you believe I’ve cited people for driving drunk in a cart?”
I was having a very good time. You aren’t always lucky enough to get put into a foursome with people you can enjoy. It’s silly to waste the experience.
I was almost finished my third drink when Alexandra Nidus and the women she’d been playing walked into the bar. She spotted me and said something to her friends and then came over to our table.
“How did you play, Mr. Rhode?’
“It’s Alton, please. And I managed not to kill myself.”
“He’s being modest, Sandy,” Fred said. “He carried me most of the match.”
“Until I hit it in the water. But it was fun. How about you?”
“I had a good round. I shot a 77.”
I wasn’t surprised. In the few minutes I watched her on the course it was obvious she could play. Tall and lanky, with an athletic swing, she would clean most men’s clocks.
“I’m glad you are enjoying the island. It has a lot to offer.”
“Sure does. I even got in some fishing yesterday with your friend, Vole.”
“He’s hardly my friend. But, yes, I know he took you out. How did you come to find him?”
She did not seem too pleased. I thought I detected some tension in her voice. I also noticed my companions exchanging glances.
“I was driving past his boat and spotted him. He’d just lost a charter, so I caught him at a good time. We only went out for half a day, but we saw plenty of action until the sharks came around. We even caught one of them. Big fellow. Vole knows his stuff. At least on the water.”
“Yes, I’ve heard that,” Nidus said. “I don’t really know that side of him. Well, nice to see you. When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.”
“I hope you have a safe trip.”
With that she rejoined her friends.
“She said ‘I don’t really know that side of him’,” Jim said. “That’s rich. I hear she knows all sides of him.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Fred said, with a cautionary tone. “Jim’s booze is doing the talking.”
Charlie leaned forward.
“Alton, I hope you don’t have any, ah, romantic ideas about Sandy,” he said.
“Charlie,” Fred said. “Shut up, why don’t you?”
“Hey, Kojak, give it a rest, will ya. You’re not in uniform. We might be saving this guy’s life.” He leaned in to me. “Vole is pounding her like a cutlet, and he’s crazy jealous. He sometimes porks her right on his boat. Some of the guys down the marina say it rocks even when the water is dead calm.”
“Vole and Nidus?”
I was really surprised.
“You’ve had too much to drink, too, Charlie,” Fred said. “You’re talking out of school.”
“Oh, for Christ sake, chief, it’s no secret. Vole thinks no one knows, but this is a small fuckin’ island and those fishermen talk like schoolgirls. Rumor is he almost killed a guy who made a move on her. I’m just warning Alton. I can’t figure it out myself. She seems so classy, and all. Looks like a young Maureen O’Hara, don’t you think?”
It clicked. That’s who I was thinking of when I first saw Nidus. The famous red-haired actress had died recently and her old movies were all over Turner Classic Movies in retrospectives.
“It must be because Vole was a Navy SEAL, or something,” Charlie continued. “The two of them go at it like rabbits.”
“She is a piece of ass,” Jim added. “I wonder if she is a natural redhead.”
“Enough!” The chief was getting annoyed. “Let’s get another round and talk golf.”
“You don’t know anything about golf, chief,” Jim retorted. “You proved that with your last putt.”
The table talk dissolved into more friendly put downs, and the relationship between Alexandra Nidus and Leonard Vole took a back burner.
But it still seemed bizarre to me.
***
“Alexandra Nidus and the security guy?”
It was morning of the following day and Alice and I were on the ferry back to the mainland. I was going to drive her back to Duke. I was pretty sure I could find Raleigh, with or without help from Gladys. It’s a big city.
“That’s what my golfing pals told me after our round.”
“Was there drinking involved?”
“Prodigious. But I believe it. The chief of police was one of the guys and he tried to shut the others up, but I could tell he knew it was true.”
“The chief of police?”
“Nice guy. It was his day off.”
“How did the subject even come up?”
“Sandy was in the clubhouse and came over to say hello to me. After she left, one of the guys warned me against making a pass at her. Said Vole was, and I quote, “pounding her like a cutlet”.
“That’s gross.”
“The guy also said Vole almost killed a guy in a jealous rage over her. That, I can also believe. There’s a screw loose in him somewhere. When he beat that shark into porridge with a billy club, I think he enjoyed it.”
“It was a shark, after all.”
“It was also already very dead.”
“She’s very beautiful,” Alice said. “But she’s not your type.”
“What’s not my type?”
“Any broad but me, honeybun” Alice said. “I wonder what she sees in him.”
I was about to say something when she held up her hand.
“Don’t,” Alice said. “Save your ‘hung like a horse’ comments for your 19th-hole conversations.”
“I wasn’t going to use a horse. In keeping with Vole’s main occupation, I was thinking more of a sperm whale.”
“Why don’t you suck farts?”
