Murder Mysteries
by Robert C. Waggoner
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2013 Robert C. Waggoner
Dear Reader,
I realize there are countless novels out there in the market with a leading character. Of course Doyle did it to bring forth a character we admired for his methodical reasoning.
Today we have PD James at the top of the heap. She takes off where Christie left.
I'll be the first to admit I'm not in their exclusive league. However, I try to write stories without the fluff. These four novellas are action from the beginning to the end.
I am introducing a fresh face young lady who just graduated from a high end university in criminology. She returns to her small town on the coast of Oregon to learn the art of police work and to be with her father; who just happens to be the Chief of Police. Stacy Foreham applies what all humans have and that is a brain that can reason. To the end she does very well.
Her life is very simple: solves homicides and has a warm relationship with her father. Stacy is an attractive woman who is sought by more than one admirer. Her number one admirer is Detective Rory Caltex of the Oregon State Police in their office in North Bend, Oregon.
It's my wish that you'll enjoy these stories. If so, send me a note to:
[email protected]
Novella
"Missing Niblick"
Robert C. Waggoner
The Discovery
It was women's day at the Old Bandon Golf Links. In addition, it was the Spring Women's Open golf tournament. One thing unique was the requirement you had to live in either Coos or Curry County to play. A local tournament if you will.
The course was designed and built back in 1926 and it remains mostly the same since that time. It's the western most golf links in the USA. It sits along the Pacific Ocean near a sea stack with the name of Face Rock. A creek meanders down the middle of the links. You can leave your sand wedge home as no sand traps are found anywhere, but on the nearby beach. Any old timer will tell you to bring a lot of balls as the narrow holes were cut out of gorse, or Scotch broom, and tall grass.
It was Saturday morning, the 12th of March, when the first foursome teed off. The four women were regulars at the club. It was only if a heavy rainstorm was happening that the four regular 'dew sweepers' didn't play both Saturday and Sunday. They all refused to play with their husbands, but relented to let the men follow them on the weekends.
Gladys Wainleft was the pseudo leader of the group. She was the most vocal and stood a head taller than the other three women. Betty Flowers was just the opposite of Gladys. She was short, reserved, but could hit the ball straight as a string. Odds were good if you were to bet on a winner and chose her name. Lois Long was of average build, but had a phobia of being the best golfer in the county. She'd taken lesson after lesson, but still couldn't get her handicap down below 10. The last in the foursome was Veronica Stevens. She was the wife of the local attorney and mayor, William Stevens. She changed golf clubs every time a new design came out.
It usually happens only once a year and March is the month when the Bandon beach area ceases to experience the usual on-shore moist air. Nary was a breeze blowing that Saturday morning as Veronica, having won the toss, teed up her ball. A picture perfect backswing and the ball split the fairway. "Nice shot," said Gladys.
Gladys took a few too many practice swings kind of showing off her power. She addressed the ball, another nice backswing and follow through resulted in a high hook that sent her ball across the old broken down wire fence into the gorse. The ball was as good as lost. What few people were around the first tee groaned at her misfortune? She teed another ball and sent it down the middle. Both Betty and Lois went right center and back of Veronica and Gladys.
As the number one tee and club house sits on top of the rise above the creek, it makes the second shot down into the valley below blind. As the number one green sits with its back next to the creek, most golfers lay up short with a lofted iron. And that is exactly what the foursome did was layup, pitch on and putt.
The second hole is straight away with a driver and short iron. All four members pared the second hole. The third hole continues east up the creek. It too is a driver or three wood and a middle iron to a small green.
Number four is a little uphill with a narrow fairway. Most golfers use a long iron and then a short iron to the green. Veronica used a 2 iron off the tee. Approaching her ball, she estimated the distance at around 120 yards and a full 9 iron would be the club of choice.
It was her turn to hit when she discovered that her 9 iron, or Niblick, was missing from her bag. She said, "Where the hell is my 9 iron? Is someone trying to play a joke on me?" All three golfers walked over to see what she was yelling about. Gladys said, "What do you mean you can't find your 9 iron."
"Exactly that. The club is not in my bag. No, I didn't leave it behind us as I haven't used a 9 iron today," she said vociferously. I think one of the men hid the iron from me while my bag sat in the club house."
"We can't wait for you to go back and get it," said Betty. "Just choke down on an eight and punch the shot into the green. You can do it."
As it turned out, Veronica birdied the hole and the others made par. They had to turn back west to play number 5. The tee box was hidden in some popular trees to protect the players from incoming shots to number 4.
Gladys was leading pulling her cart. She turned the corner and saw a person sitting on the bench. That person was alone with both arms stretched across the back. The other women saw the same picture: a woman sitting in the middle of the bench, arms outstretched with an object sticking out of her head. All four golfers stood staring at a person not thirty feet away. She never moved. Gladys moved slowly forward looking at the person. She said, "Her hands are tied to the back of the bench. Another rope looks like is tied around her throat. I think she's dead!" she exclaimed.
"Dead!" all three said at the same time. "
"Yes, and it looks like a golf club is sticking out of the top of her head," said Gladys. They moved closer, but Betty said:
"Not too close as we are probably in a crime scene now."
Veronica started at the grip of the club. She said, "This can't be girls. That club has the same grip as my other clubs. Lord have mercy, could it be that is my missing 9 iron?"
Gladys fished out her cell and rang the local police. In no way shape or form is a police force in a town like Bandon, Oregon, population around two thousand, equipped to handle a murder. Meanwhile, the group behind was catching up with them. Soon the scene would be packed with golfers staring at a body with, what appeared like, a golf club sticking out of the top of her head, a once attractive young woman.
Stacy Foreham, policewoman and daughter of the Chief of Police, Raymond Foreham, looked at her watch noting it was closing in on 9 am when she heard the 911 phone ring. Flo Medders, secretary and dispatcher answered it promptly. Stacy without knowing moved closer to the dispatcher's desk. She heard Flo ask who was calling. "I got it," she said, "This is Gladys Wainleft and you're calling from where?" Flo was writing furiously while repeating what she heard. "You're at the Bandon golf course playing in a tournament. You say there's a dead woman on the bench near the 5th tee box. Is that right?" Again there was rapid note taking that would please a court recorder for speed. "We'll send someone out immediately. Please don't touch anything and keep any onlookers from disturbing the crime scene." She hung up and turned to Stacy and said:
"Gladys Wainleft, you know her, says a dead woman is tied to a bench on the 5th tee box with a golf club sticking out of her head. Lord have mercy. I can't remember when there was a murder in this small town. Stacy, your father is up in Coos Bay meeting some other police
chiefs. You'd best look into this crime. I see Dan Swollow is out cruising. I'll call him and have him pick you up."
Stacy's heart was beginning to race a bit. She'd just graduated from the University of Chicago majoring in criminology. With an education such as that, many wondered why she wasn't working for the FBI or some major city police force. Her stock answer was, 'What is the rush, I'm only 23' so most were satisfied with that response.
Her brain kicked in and she said, "Call OSP in North Bend and alert the homicide detective that we've a probable homicide at the golf course. I'll call you after I've secured the crime scene. Call Dan now please."
In no time Dan Swollow came to an abrupt halt in front of the small police station. He saw Stacy come out carrying a black bag. Dan, single, age 32, had an ache for the chief's daughter. She was every bit the nice looking woman he desired: short blonde hair, perfect body, pure white skin, piercing steely grey eyes and a mouth most guys would die for.
Stacy opened the back door, tossed in the black bag, and opened the front door and got in saying, "To the golf course Dan and make it quick, but no siren, just the lights."
"Yes boss," as he back out and torn off towards the Beach Loop Road.
"Don't patronize me Dan. Let' just do our jobs. It appears we have a dead body at the 5th hole tee box. If memory serves me correct, there's a golf tournament going on today."
"Yes, my mother is entered as usual. She doesn't hope to win anything, but enjoys the gossip that goes with the event."
"Oh, I forgot to tell Flo to call the chief and inform him of our situation."
"I'll do it. Sit back and enjoy one of the few calm warm days of the coast. I'd like to be down on Agate beach looking for agates than doing police work on such a nice day."
"If what Gladys Wainleft says, this could be the weirdest crime I've heard of. She says a woman is sitting on a bench, arms tied along the back rest, a rope around her neck and, get this, a golf club with the head of the club stuck in the top of her head."
"I can't wait to see this scene if it's true. Can you imagine by now how many golfers have taken pictures of the crime with their cells. I feel sorry for the vics relatives if they see pics on the net," said Dan.
Stacy remained silent as they drove past high priced restaurants showing off the view of the coast. A new development was going in just north of the golf course, she remembered. It was located very close to the number 4 hole clear in the east or back of the links. I wonder if there's a trail from there to the golf course. It was probable that back part had to be close to the crime scene. She came back to the present as they drove into the parking area. Dan had to park right in front as the lot was full of golfers and spectators cars.
When the two police officers walked into the club house, it was pure pandemonium. Dan being the taller of the two spotted the new golf club owner behind the counter.
Andy Southwin and his wife Dorothy were California transplants with a pocket full of Silicon Valley money. They decided that the abandoned nine hole golf course needed refreshed. Some might argue that it might take many years to recoup the investment, but the Southwin's were adamant.
Andy saw the two police officers and wove his way through the crowd to the waiting officers. Both officers introduced themselves and Andy asked them to follow him out back. There they found a golf cart ready to go. He said, "I was there and I can assure you there is a dead woman at the number 5 tee box. I'm doing my best to keep the people calm."
"Do you need some police assistance to help," asked Stacy.
"If I do I'll call your station. Meanwhile, we've cancelled the rest of the day's golf. Let me know if you need my help," said Andy.
"One question sir. That new development just north of the links here, does it come near the number 4 green," asked Stacy.
"Yes, as a matter of fact it does. The road and streets are in, but that is as far as we have progressed at this time. You can drive your car within about 200 feet from the number 4 green," said Andy.
"Dan, I'll be right back. I need my black bag," said Stacy as she hurried to the cruiser for her evidence bag. After retrieving her bag, she found Dan behind the wheel of the electric golf cart. She got in and he drove off down the fairway. Stacy looked around as they drove along the course. She noticed they'd done a lot of work refurbishing the old links course. Stacy saw new wooden bridges across the creek. A lot of the trees along the creek had been removed to open it up a bit. She smiled a little remembering as a kid she and her friends would search for golf balls all along the creek. Most balls had the owners name stenciled on them, but some didn't. They'd sell those to the old owners of the club for some pocket money. The named balls would be returned for a few cents as well.
Dan pointed at the crowd around the 5th tee box as they sped up number 4 fairway. At the green, they crossed the creek over yet another new wood bridge. Because it was such a nice day for the southern coast, many golfers were sitting on the grass waiting for the police to arrive to glean a tidbit of information.
Stacy at once recognized Gladys Wainleft. She stood out due to her height. It would seem that she and her group had kept the onlookers back away from the victim. They threaded their way to the tee box. Gladys said, "We did our best to keep back the crowd officer. We're the ones that discovered the body. How can we help you?"
"We'll need you and your group's statement of course. Meanwhile we'll tape off the crime scene. After that we wait for the forensic team and homicide detective to arrive. I've no doubt the club has all of your names and addresses. I think you'd be more comfortable sitting in the club house rather than out here. We're going to ask all of you to return to the club house after we take all the names of each person here. By the way, do any of you recognize the victim," asked Stacy.
"I asked around and nobody seems to know who she is. She's rather young I think. Nice clothes on, but we haven't seen any bag nearby, but we haven't looked very hard. Nobody here got within 20 feet of the bench. It's hard to look at her with those eyes staring out at you. It's hard to believe some person could wield a golf club so hard it would pierce the skull," said Gladys.
Stacy and Dan had the scene secure in no time. She told Dan she was going to see if there was a trail from the new complex just above the 4th green. Both realized it would be some time before the North Bend state police detective arrived. In fact, Stacy wanted to do some detective work on her own. It wasn't that she thought she would solve the homicide, but wanted to use her new found learning.
Making two lines, Stacy and Dan quickly wrote down names and addresses of the onlookers. Then they were sent away; some reluctant to leave knowing they might miss something. Stacy looked at her watch. It was just after 10 am. She took off for the 4th green and up the slight hill to the new development in progress. At the edge of the back of the green and down the fairway, she looked hard for evidence that might support the idea the vic was forced, carried, drug down the hill to her final resting place on the bench.
A half hour later she found no evidence that a person or person came through the gorse and tall grass to the links. She circled around to arrive at the top of the hill where the development was in progress. It was a tough go fighting her way through the gorse. The streets and other portions of the infrastructure were there, but other than a few cigarette butts, nothing of interest was found. She decided to walk a little further back towards the main road to see if anything out of the ordinary was lying on the ground. She'd went about one block when something caught her eye. It was a black high heel that had broken off a woman shoe. From her back pocket she pulled out a baggie. She very carefully, with two hands, using her fingertips, placed the heel into the open baggie. She zipped it closed, took a marker and put time and place along with the date. She felt rather proud herself, but then realized it was not an obscure find at all.
Before she went back down the hill, she glanced at the distance club house and entrance road to the new development. She saw a white SUV roaring towards her. It had blue and red
lights flashing to notify anyone looking that a VIP was approaching. Stacy waited for the vehicle. When it roared up and stopped, the driver jumped out looking very stern and also looking very important. He looked hard at Stacy running his beady eyes from head to foot. He took three strides and after he stared at her name tag, along with a leering look at her breasts, said: Officer Foreham I'm Rory Caltex and this guy is my partner Ben Razor. I'm wondering officer, why you're not with the body protecting the crime scene instead of up here disturbing what evidence we might find."
"Well, Rory Caltex, my partner is with the body and if my walking has contaminated the evidence on this development, I wonder what a SUV might do to obscure even more evidence," she fired back at him. Stacy didn't need any help to figure out this egotistical, conceited detective. His height was intimidating, as he was at least six-four and fairly stout at around 220 pounds. However, Stacy had spent the last few years fighting off assholes like this guy.
Rory said, "Okay, introductions out of the way, where is the trail down to the body?"
Stacy looked his attire over and inwardly smiled. He wore Dockers, open polo shirt with a sport coat with patches on the elbows. He looked more like a college professor than a police detective. She also wondered how his penny loafers were going to fare the trip through the gorse. She said, "Follow me detectives."
She led them around the way she had come up the hill. Once again she smiled as she heard grumbling going on behind her. At the 4th green, both detectives came alongside of her. Stacy was hard pressed to keep up with the two taller detectives. However, she was in shape so a quick pace didn't leave her out of breath as they met Dan standing with his arms crossed in front of the crime scene tape. Dan, Rory and Bed shook hands warmly, ignoring Stacy completely. She tried to remain cool and not let these macho guys get the better of her. My brain will make them pay in the end, she vowed.
Murder Mysteries Page 1
