A Hole In One

by Judy Penz Sheluk

  “Not at this time.”

  “But we know, don’t we, that the gentleman providing the hole in one insurance, Trent Norland, would have been present. Surely we can determine, quite easily, which group would have been at the third hole. By my calculations, the group in question would have included Arabella Carpenter, Hudson Tanaka, Luke Surmanski—and Emily Garland.”

  Was it Arabella’s imagination, or had Kerri put an emphasis on Emily’s name? She glanced at Emily, taking in the angry splotches of red on her face. Nope, definitely not her imagination. First Levon, now Emily. Something told her this was about to get a whole lot uglier.

  7

  Emily Garland seethed silently. The nerve of that vulture, implying that she was somehow involved in the death of Marc Larroquette. She didn’t know anything about the murder, but she was certain it would only be a matter of time before Kerri, the grubby bloodhound, would find out and leak the news, implicating her and Arabella. The Glass Dolphin would make headlines—for all the wrong reasons. That Kerri didn’t know the dead man’s name, or his relationship to Levon, was small comfort.

  Emily took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Fortunately, Aaron Beecham wasn’t capitulating to Kerri’s line of questioning, and Merryfield seemed annoyed by it. The rookie, Sarah Byrne, looked a bit lost. She’d probably thought coming to Cedar County would be an easy ride. No such luck. After last year’s string of murders, and now this, Emily figured the county was cursed.

  No one else had questions, likely figuring that if a reporter couldn’t get answers, they wouldn’t either. Or maybe they just wanted to get back to the safety of their own homes. As far as golf tournaments went, this one didn’t make the cut.

  Beecham announced that they would get started on the interviews. Last names starting with A through L were to stay put in the Bogey Ballroom, and he’d call each name in alphabetical order. Names M through Z should relocate to the Eagle Lounge where Detective Merryfield would be in charge. Officer Byrne would be checking everyone’s golf bag and cart. No one was to leave until each golf bag was thoroughly checked.

  Trent Norland left their table without a word. Luke and Hudson assured Emily and Arabella they would get together “soon” and followed Trent to the Eagle Lounge.

  Emily figured their idea of “soon” and hers might be different. Damn. She was just getting to really know—and like—Luke, and she’d really hoped that Hudson and Arabella might hit it off, too. She also wondered if the alphabetical split was made that way so Aaron could take on Levon Larroquette. It seemed like Arabella was thinking the same thing. There was no love lost between Levon and Aaron, even though both of them were no longer involved romantically with Arabella.

  It already looked bad for Levon. Even though Emily couldn’t speak for the police, she’d bet money that Arabella wasn’t buying that Levon hadn’t seen his father in years—not that she’d ever admit it. When it came to Levon, Arabella’s judgment was clouded.

  Emily scanned the half-empty room and found Levon hunched over a table at the back, staring at his hands. He glanced up as if he felt her staring at him, nodded in acknowledgment without so much as a flicker of a smile, and then resumed his former position. Was he grief-stricken, guilty, or both?

  “Arabella Carpenter,” Beecham called. Emily patted Arabella on the leg and leaned in to whisper. “It will be over before you know it.”

  Arabella nodded and followed Beecham through a door marked Private. Emily thought she looked like a woman going to her own execution. She was hiding something. Emily knew it. But what? Surely she hadn’t known there was a dead body in the woods. Or had she?

  Of course she hadn’t. And neither had Levon. Emily gave herself a mental slap on the head. These were her friends. They weren’t Bonnie and Clyde, a pair of killers in cahoots.

  But Arabella said she had recognized the body, or at least thought he looked familiar. Was it the resemblance to her ex-husband? Once you knew the connection, it was easy enough to spot, but Emily was certain there was more to it than that.

  She mulled over the possibilities. What if Levon had seen his father recently, and not twenty-some years ago as he had told the police? What if he’d told Arabella? No, that wouldn’t work. The two of them hadn’t talked much since Gilly Germaine had arrived on the scene—a fact that Emily knew bothered Arabella more than she was willing to admit.

  But what if Arabella had seen Levon and his father together, somewhere off the beaten path? What if Levon didn’t know Arabella had seen him?

  Emily nodded. That was the most plausible explanation; she was sure of it.

  Which meant Levon was lying, Arabella was covering up for him, and Emily was going to be dragged into trying to clear his name.

  8

  Arabella sat across from Aaron Beecham in the Head Pro’s closet-sized office. It felt claustrophobic, but it was no doubt meant to ensure that Robbie Andrews spent most of his time in the pro shop mingling and chatting up the customers, versus sitting inside doing paperwork. Based on the untidy stack of files in his inbox, the strategy was working.

  “You’ve lost a lot of weight,” Arabella said, aware this might not be the time to bring it up, but concerned enough to risk it.

  The expression on Aaron’s face was a mix of amusement and annoyance. “I’ve been trying out a vegan diet.”

  A vegan diet? Was this the same guy who’d taken her out for steak and ribs on their first date? She suppressed a sigh. It was bad enough that Emily was a vegetarian, though at least she’d eat eggs and dairy. A “lacto-ovo” vegetarian, Emily called it, and then had gone on to explain the different levels of vegetarianism. Vegans, Arabella remembered, didn’t even eat honey, considering it an animal byproduct.

  “Sarah Byrne got me into it,” Aaron said. “I must say I feel better, though I’ll admit I miss cheeseburgers. I’ve tried veggie burgers, and they’re just not the same. And that soy cheese should be outlawed.”

  Sarah Byrne? Was something going on between Beecham and the rookie officer?

  “We’re just friends and co-workers, Arabella,” Aaron said, reading her mind. “Now, let’s focus on the issue at hand. The death of Marc Larroquette.”

  “I’ve already told you everything I know.”

  “Humor me.”

  What happened to the guy she’d almost fallen in love with? The one who once cared about what she thought and how she felt? She understood that Aaron had to be professional, but would it kill him to show a hint of compassion? It wasn’t like she found a dead body every day.

  She bit back a snarky reply, knowing it would come back to haunt her—or Levon. She could deal with whatever Aaron dished out, but she couldn’t risk it hurting her ex-husband.

  “I hit my tee shot into the trees on the third hole. I went to look for my ball while the others were putting. I was worried there might be poison ivy in the woods, so I was rooting around for the ball with my putter. I hit something and noticed it was a shoe…I’d nearly tripped over the body…and I started to scream.”

  “Go on.”

  “I leaned down to check for a pulse. That was wrong, I know. I shouldn’t have touched him, especially since I could tell the man was dead. But it was an instinctive reaction. I hope I didn’t mess up the scene.”

  If Arabella was hoping for absolution, she didn’t get it. “What happened next?”

  “I stood up. Luke, Emily, and Hudson were standing there. I think the guy from the insurance company, Trent Norland, came a couple of seconds later, but he would have had to run from the tee box and across the bridge.” Arabella paused. She hadn’t thought about it earlier, but from his vantage point, would Trent have been able to see the body?

  “Go on,” Beecham said, again.

  “Right. Sorry. Someone—I’m pretty sure it was Luke—called Gilly and told her to stop the tournament and get everyone to the clubhouse. Then he called the police.”

  “Did Luke mention the body when he called Gilly Germaine?”

  A
rabella closed her eyes a minute, trying to recall Luke’s words. “No, I’m positive he didn’t. He just said something along the lines of ‘it’s serious.’ I had the impression Gilly didn’t want to stop the tournament. He told her it was important and to sound the lightning horn.”

  “Did you see Levon Larroquette anywhere?”

  Damn. So her instincts were right. They considered Levon to be a suspect. “I saw him earlier at the silent auction table. That was at least an hour before the tournament started. I didn’t see him on the course until after you arrived. He was acting as the Course Marshal.”

  “So, you didn’t know where he was.”

  “Asked and answered.”

  Beecham rolled his eyes. “I apologize if the questions seem repetitive to you, Arabella, but this isn’t an episode of Law and Order. I’m going to ask you again. Did you know where Levon was?”

  Arabella felt like a chastised schoolgirl, and she resented Aaron for making her feel that way. He knew her—she wasn’t the kind of person to lie. If anything, her penchant for honesty and integrity above all else is what got her into hot water. Then again, when it came to Levon even her exacting principles could be bent a little. He knew that, too.

  “I did not see Levon again until he rode up to the third hole. You and Merryfield were already there.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Thank you,” she said with exaggerated gratitude. Aaron ignored the effort. “You said that the dead man looked familiar. In what way?”

  Double damn. That was the thing about always telling the truth. It turned you into a terrible liar. She forced herself to maintain eye contact and shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose it could have been because he reminded me of Levon.”

  “It could have been, but that wasn’t the reason, was it?”

  Bastard. “No.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I was walking in the park a couple of days ago when I noticed Levon talking to a man I didn’t know. I don’t think either one of them saw me. I didn’t realize, at the time, that the man with him was his father. I’d never met Marc Larroquette, and I’d never seen a photograph.”

  “You were married to Levon. Do you expect me to believe you’d never seen a photograph of his father?”

  Arabella bristled. “Believe what you want.”

  Beecham colored slightly. “Did you hear what they were talking about in the park?”

  “I’m not an eavesdropper. I turned around the moment I spotted them.”

  “Were they arguing?”

  “Yes. They were in the wooded area behind the path.”

  Beecham raised his eyebrows ever so slightly, but didn’t comment.

  “Listen, Levon and I haven’t spoken much lately. He’s been dating Gilly Germaine.”

  Was that a look of surprise or amusement on Beecham’s face?

  “I didn’t want him to think I’d been stalking him.” She paused. “Is there anything else, Constable Beecham, or do you want to subject me to further humiliation?”

  “I’m not trying to humiliate you, Arabella. A murder has been committed. Your personal feelings for Levon factor into the equation, whether you like it or not.”

  Arabella knew he was right. “I’m sorry. Is there anything else?”

  “Just one more question. Were Levon and his father estranged?”

  “Yes. His father walked out on him and his mom when Levon was a teenager. He went out for a pack of cigarettes and never came back. No warning, no notice, no reason.”

  “That must have been hard on Levon and his mother.”

  “You’d have to ask Levon. All I know is what he told me. That he hadn’t seen or heard from him since.”

  “Until two days ago in the park, where they were arguing,” Beecham said. “And now Marc Larroquette is dead.”

  9

  Arabella and Emily were back at the Glass Dolphin by three o’clock. A sign on the door said “Closed for the Day.”

  “I suppose we could open,” Arabella said, without enthusiasm.

  Emily slipped off her sandals and flopped into a press back rocking chair. Everything in the shop was for sale, but that didn’t stop them from using the furniture. It was part of Arabella’s sales strategy to demonstrate that the things on display were meant to be employed and enjoyed in day-to-day life, not treated like objects in a museum. From Emily’s perspective, opening would mean checking the website stats, monitoring their eBay listings, and maybe listing a few more smalls, like the perfume bottles Arabella had found in Pottageville. While she was debating this, the doorbell chimed, announcing a customer. Kerri St. Amour flounced in, her eyes scanning the premises from top to bottom.

  “What part of ‘closed for the day’ don’t you understand?” Emily asked, her tone acerbic.

  “I tried the door. It was unlocked. If you didn’t want anyone coming in, you should have locked it.”

  “We don’t want anyone pilfering anything, either, but we don’t feel the need to hang up a sign saying, ‘No stealing.’ Some things are just understood. At least by anyone with a moral compass.”

  Arabella saw Kerri flinch. She’d never found out exactly why Emily disliked her so much, but she knew it went far deeper than Kerri moving to Lount’s Landing to take over the editorial gig at Inside the Landing. Something had happened back in Toronto when they were both freelancing for Urban Living.

  “I think what Emily is trying to say is why pay us a visit now?” Arabella said, hands on her hips, a “don’t mess with me” expression on her face. “You’ve been in Lount’s Landing for the better part of six months. In all that time, you’ve never once stepped foot inside the shop.”

  “Okay, fine, you’ve got me there. I’m here about the body your group found today. It’s newsworthy, and I run a newspaper. I have a responsibility to my readers to report the news.”

  “Fabricate the news is more like it,” Emily muttered under her breath.

  Kerri had changed the format and frequency of Inside the Landing from a monthly magazine to a weekly newspaper. It appeared to be doing well; one more sore point for Emily, but this was no time for a catfight. The last thing she wanted was Kerri building a case against one of them. Guilty or innocent, once an accusation was public, reputations were forever tarnished. She also knew that Kerri was venomous enough to target Levon if it meant hurting them.

  “I’m afraid we can’t tell you anything,” Arabella said, shooting Emily a warning glance. “Detective Merryfield and Constable Beecham made it very clear we weren’t to discuss it, as you well know since you were at the briefing. We wouldn’t want to get into trouble with the police. I’m sure you understand.”

  Kerri laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that gave Arabella the shivers. “Is that why you think I’m here? To find out what you know?”

  “Well, isn’t it?” Arabella asked.

  “Actually, I’m here to tell you what I know. Detective Merryfield was more than happy to meet with me after everyone had been interviewed. He thinks that reporting selected details in the paper might encourage people to come forward with additional information that could potentially solve the case.”

  “What sort of selected details?” Arabella asked.

  “The body has been positively identified as Marc Larroquette. Larroquette, as in Levon. It seems Marc was Levon’s father, although from what Merryfield told me, the two were long estranged. But I assume you both already knew that.” Kerri paused, a half smile playing on her lips. “What you don’t know is that Levon has been taken into police custody. The way I figure it, it’s just a matter of time until he’s charged with murder.”

  Arabella fought the urge to claw Kerri’s eyes out. Don’t shoot the messenger, even when the messenger was trying to mess with your head. She swallowed, picked up a Baccarat millefiori paperweight and rubbed the glass to calm her nerves. “No comment.”

  “No comment from me, either,” Emily said, standing up. “I think you’ve overstayed your welcome here, Kerri. It woul
d be best if you left. Now.”

  Kerri shrugged. “Have it your way, ladies. The story is going to run with your comments or without them. I just thought you’d have something to add, seeing that Levon is Arabella’s ex- husband.”

  “My relationship with Levon is irrelevant,” Arabella said. “Is it? I guess we’ll find out soon enough, won’t we?”

  10

  Kerri left before Arabella could throw the paperweight at her, mostly because Emily insisted Arabella put it down. It was priced at a thousand dollars, after all—a reasonable price for a nineteenth-century Baccarat.

  Arabella opened a Canadiana pine sideboard, and pulled out a tin of shortbread. The cookies were technically for guests but she needed something to help settle her down. Hopefully the shortbread would do the trick. She offered the tin to Emily, who shook her head. She was on her fourth cookie and starting to feel a bit sick to her stomach, when Emily spoke up.

  “Kerri could be making it up. Levon might not be in police custody.”

  “Maybe. I’d like to believe she was lying.”

  “According to Levon, he hadn’t seen his father in twenty-four years.” Arabella stared at her feet.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “If you must know, Levon lied about that. I saw him at the park a couple of days ago. He was arguing with a man who I now realize was Marc Larroquette.”

  “Hmm. That’s not good.”

  Arabella laughed, a dry, humorless sound. “Ya think?”

  “Did you happen to hear what they were arguing about?”

  “Just a few words. It was something along the lines of ‘leave her out of this.’ I have no idea who ‘her’ is. It could be me, for all I know. Or Gilly. I left before Levon could see me. But—”

  “But what?”

  “I told Aaron about seeing them together when he interviewed me.”