I have a feeling some of the possible golfers had a bad day on the course and are letting off steam because of how poorly they played.
One of them, let’s call him Bozo 1 slams his hand on the table and says to Dee, who jumps back from the table, “Listen here lady, our money is as good as anyone’s money here and if they don’t like our conservation, then they can just leave. Now just do your job and get out of my face.”
I think to myself, I really wish he had not said that because I have known Dee, as a waitress at Crab Catchers, for a long time and she seems like a nice lady. Bozo 1 has just really pissed me off.
Before I can get up, Barry gets up from the table and says, “I’ll be right back, order me the fish sandwich with fries and coleslaw.”
All I can do is shake my head, I have been coming here for years and I have never seen any problems with noisy guests. Why do they have to show up on the one night when the Cavalry is in town? One good thing, at least my guys left their guns at home.
Bill puts his hand on my shoulder, “Easy Mickke D, you know Barry, he will take care of the problem.”
Barry walks over to the rowdy table and says in a very calm but sincere voice, “Fellows I would really like to enjoy my sandwich and beer in this lovely little restaurant, so if you could keep the noise down, that would be great. If you can’t, maybe you should just leave.”
Barry returns to our table with a smile. Again, I just shake my head because I know along with everyone else at our table that Barry is just baiting Bozo 1.
Bozo 1 is dumbfounded. He cannot believe what he has just heard, that someone is actually asking him to leave. He then makes a big mistake. He gets up from the table, but instead of leaving, he comes over to our table. Big, big mistake. He walks up to Barry and gets right in his face, which is not a good idea and very poor judgment.
Problem #1 for Bozo 1. You should always keep some space between you and your adversary. He says to Barry in a sort of slurred voice, “No one tells me to leave, I paid my money and I plan to stay and yell as much as I want, so screw you.”
Problem #2 for Bozo 1. He takes a roundhouse swing at Barry’s head. Barry easily grabs his wrist with his left hand because he can see the punch coming a mile away.
Problem #3 for Bozo 1. Never fight a sober man let alone a martial arts expert if you’re drunk. With his right hand, Barry delivers a short, sharp straight blow with the knuckles of his fore finger and middle finger to his solar plexus and he is down on his knees gasping for air.
Now here comes Bozo 2, who really should have known better after what he had just observed. Instead he yells out, “Why you no good son of a bitch, I’ll kick your ass.”
As he gets to our table, Bill’s leg comes up and out and catches him in the side of his knee. He is also on the ground, writhing in pain. Bill did not kick him hard enough to break anything but it definitely got his attention.
Now for Bozos 3 and 4. They are looking at their two friends, one gasping for air and the other one writhing in pain. They had just got their butts kicked by a couple of guys who never got up from their chairs. Let us just say they sobered up in a hurry and decide it would behoove them to get their friends out of here and cut their losses.
They apologize to us, to Dee, and everyone on the outside deck. They quickly pay their bill, leave Dee a big tip and walk out, dragging 1 and 2 with their tails between their legs. As they leave, everyone out on the deck stands up, faces us, and applauds. We get up and take a short bow and our dinner is on the house. After our new friends send over the third round of beers, we decide it is time to go.
On the way out, Larry McHerron, the general manager and chef at Crab Catchers, thanks us and tells me he called the cops but they didn’t show up, which is strange because they are usually very prompt when summoned. I found out later that the police called back about fifteen minutes after we left and said they were behind on calls. It’s a three-man police force and they are backed up by North Myrtle Beach and Horry County. They asked if there was still a problem. Larry told them everything was okay, that some of his guests had taken care of the situation. I’m starting to believe Jimmy’s statement more and more every minute I’m around these guys. They do know people in high places but I did not know they knew so many people in Little River. There have been two major incidents within the last two hours, no police, and no Marines.
We all laugh on the way back to my house and Bill and Ted say they haven’t had this much fun since they left Fort Bragg. Somehow I don’t believe that statement is true for them, but I don’t want to know about all of their fun-filled moments because… oh well, you know.
We decide to go to bed early because the big golf match is tomorrow morning and God only knows what may happen on the golf course. One thing is for sure, if it’s bad, neither the police nor the Marines will show up.
Before going to bed, I ask, “Am I supposed to take you to the airport on Sunday morning or is the chopper picking you up in the fairway?”
They all laugh and Barry says I will need to take them to the airport unless there is an unexpected emergency.
I am still wondering why they are here. Something tells me they are not here to visit me and play golf.
Chapter 5: The Golf Match
The next morning we are up by 7:00am and I take them to The Shack on Sea Mountain Highway for breakfast. I ask them to behave because after they leave, I still have to work and live here. They assure me that they will be on their best behavior.
We get back to the house around 8:30 without any confrontations. We decide to go up to the course to hit some balls before we play. Everyone seems excited about playing today. We load up our clubs, head to the clubhouse, pay our fees and go to the range. It is another beautiful day in Myrtle Beach, seventy-two degrees, a slight breeze and lots of sunshine.
While we are at the range, I give everyone a few tips on their swing and then we head for the putting green for a few putting tips. Everyone seems relaxed and enjoying the beautiful day.
We decide to play partners where you partner-up with each player for six holes. You get a point for low individual score on the hole and a point for best low team score on the hole. Each point is worth five dollars so no one is going to go broke. Ted is the lucky one because he draws me as a partner for the first six holes and I begin par, birdie, par. We take six of the possible twelve points available with four points ending in a tie. Barry and Bill get two.
The day was actually uneventful on the course, although Barry did answer a couple of cell phone calls during my putting stroke. There were no fights and no shootings. I made sure they left their weapons at the house.
At the end of the day Barry did not kick my ass, in fact, I was low man with a 79. Barry had 82 with a birdie on 17, the number one handicap hole. Ted had 86 while making a forty-foot par putt on 10. Bill shot 88 and almost had a hole in one on number 6. The ball hit the flagstick and landed three feet away. He missed the birdie putt.
After we finish playing, we go into the clubhouse for a beer and while we are there, Jimmy, my neighbor, comes in and I introduce him to the fellows. Jimmy’s foursome just completed nine holes and he tells me he is having a bad day. He just got some new clubs and they are driving him crazy. I do not introduce Jimmy as an ex-FBI agent but it is as if the guys know he is one of them (spooks). Barry does ask me what Jimmy’s last name is so I figure he is going to check him out as soon as possible. As we leave, I introduce the guys to Mr. Harris, the general manager and golf director at River Hills. They compliment him on the layout and condition of the course.
We get back to the house around 4:00pm and Bill asks me where I am taking them for dinner since I am the big winner. I tell him twenty dollars won’t get us much and that I have steaks in the fridge and plenty of beer on hand. I suggest we just stay here, grill the steaks and not get into any trouble.
I hear Ted say, “You’re no fun.”
I laugh and reply, “I had enough fun last night to last me for another year.�
�
Barry goes outside on the deck to make some phone calls, probably checking up on Jimmy, while I get out a deck of cards to play some Euchre before dinner.
We play cards for about two hours for a quarter a point and Ted ends up winning three dollars. About 6:30, I put the steaks on and Bill whips up a big salad. The steaks are perfect, the salad is great and the beer is cold. It doesn’t get any better than this.
Just as we finish eating, Barry says to me, “How’s business these days? Are you making any money?”
I think to myself, here it comes. “Well, let’s see, real estate is down, my landscape business is down because real estate is down, and the economy is in the tank. Right now, I am not making a lot of money. Do you guys want to give me an interest free loan?”
They all laugh and Barry says, “No, but we may have a small job for you if you’re interested.”
Barry’s offer sounds short, sweet, and easy. “SIL would like to hire you to do some leg work for us on a per diem basis. We will pay you three hundred a day plus all your expenses and fifty cents per mile to cover your transportation costs.”
I sarcastically reply, “Do I have to shoot anyone?”
“Of course not, we just need you to find someone for us and we will take it from there.”
“Who do I have to find and will they shoot me?” I reply with a smile on my face, “And why can’t SIL find them?”
Barry knows that I will want details, so he continues, “Do you remember reading about a man who was killed on Bald Head Island a month or so ago?”
“Yes I remember reading that in the paper. I’ve played that course, it is gorgeous.”
“The man who was shot was a consultant to Senator R. Gene Brazile from North Carolina, who chairs some very influential committees in Washington.” Then he adds, “You do realize everything I tell you is confidential, don’t you?”
“Of course, I know the drill.”
He continues, “One of the programs Trever Byers, the man who was shot, was looking into was offshore drilling along the Carolina coast for an energy committee. Some people in Washington want us to look into the possibility that this may have been why he died. Since the local police and Feds have come up empty, they want us to see if we can identify the killer.”
“And what did you find?” I ask before he has a chance to continue.
“Mickke D, it is rather embarrassing. We thought we had the guy, but he slipped through our fingers as we were about to apprehend him.”
Bill interjects, “The guy is not an amateur Mickke D, he is a real pro, so be careful.”
It’s as if I have already accepted the job, which I have not.
“Who’s the guy?” I ask.
This time Ted answers, “We’re not sure but we have it narrowed down to six suspects who were all in the general area when the assassination took place.”
Barry jumps in, “We’ll give you bios of the possible shooters when you take the job.”
“Why do you need me?”
“Because all of the suspects are avid golfers and gamblers. We believe they will all be coming to play in the World Amateur in Myrtle Beach in a couple of weeks. Since you are into the golf scene here, we think you may be able to get close to these guys and maybe pinpoint the shooter for us without putting yourself or anyone else in danger.”
One thing is for certain, the guys have done their homework. They know what my fees are and that I probably could use some walking around cash. I’m just not sure I want to go after a killer. But then again, the thought of getting back into the investigative business and trying to find the enemy does raise my excitement level.
I tell them I will sleep on it and let them know in the morning. Barry says we need to be at the airport around 8:00 unless I want them picked up in the fairway. I tell him we will be there by 7:30.
While getting ready for bed I notice the red boxers lying on my bathroom floor. I think about throwing them in the trash can but I change my mind and put them in the laundry pile. Hey, Paula Ann is gone so maybe I’ll get a second opinion from another lovely young lady before I get rid of them.
Chapter 6: The Judge and The Coins
(The day of Trever’s death)
Thomas Allen Cadium, aka TC, drives up from Pawleys Island to Southport and catches the 10:00am ferry to Bald Head Island. This is his first visit to Bald Head and he is not disappointed. Trever had told him about this place and he was not wrong. He stops in the Information Center and finds out that although the pace of life on the island encourages rest and reflection, there is no shortage of recreational options for every age. You can play golf or climb up North Carolina’s oldest lighthouse, Old Baldy, first commissioned by Thomas Jefferson. You can explore the islands protected creeks and maritime forest through programs offered by the Bald Head Island Conservancy. TC’s mind is already planning a day trip here on his boat in the near future.
TC rents a golf cart at the Information Center and gets to the golf course clubhouse about 10:45. He is meeting Trever, his friend and business partner, for lunch to discuss a possible salvage project, which TC mailed to him.
TC is a retired federal judge, 52 years old and a widower. He is 6’2” tall, 175 pounds and in good shape for a man his age who has spent most of his life sitting on a bench. He picked up the nickname TC years before becoming a lawyer and judge and it has followed him throughout his entire career. He now spends most of his time as a salvage junkie looking for shipwrecks and sunken treasure. He has a 46-foot boat outfitted with the latest technology and he is a certified diver. He and Trever are always trying to find the big one but up to this point, they have only found small pockets of treasure, very small. But hey, TC has a great pension from the government, he loves the beach scene, and he really enjoys being out on the ocean in his boat.
As 11:30 comes and goes, he begins to get a little concerned about Trever who told him that he would be finished playing golf around 11:00 and that he would meet him in the restaurant around 11:15. He tries calling him on his cell phone but gets no answer. At 11:45, he walks over to the pro shop and asks if anyone has seen Trever Byers this morning.
Justin, the head pro, tells him that Trever teed off about 7:15 and he did not see Trever make the turn. Of course, he may have just missed seeing him for one reason or another. He gets on his radio and calls one of his course rangers. He asks him to take a ride out on the course to see if he can spot Trever.
About 12:30, Justin comes running into the restaurant, with a look of both excitement and sadness on his face. He tells TC that they have found Trever. That is the good news. The bad news is that Trever is dead. Someone shot him!
TC just sits there with a blank look on his face. A twinge of sorrow pierces through his anger and fear. Why would anyone want to kill Trever? How could this have happened and why has this happened? He hears sirens coming towards the clubhouse and before long, an EMS vehicle and the police chief pull up. They have the only gas-powered vehicles on the island.
As TC watches, the police chief, Marty Vette, and the EMS people take several golf carts and maintenance vehicles out on the golf course. In about 45 minutes, they return with a covered body, a pull cart with clubs and another set of clubs. Justin tells Chief Vette that TC was supposed to meet Trever for lunch. The chief wants to interview TC before he leaves for the mainland with the body.
Justin also tells the chief about the strange man who teed off ahead of Trever and that the other set of clubs they had found belonged to the pro shop. Justin had rented them to the man along with a golf cart and a dozen golf balls. They did not find the golf cart or golf balls. Chief Vette gets ready to interview TC while Justin and his assistant pro go looking for the missing golf cart.
Even though TC has been an officer of the court for many years and he knows it is wrong to give false information to a police officer, he is not sure that as the interview begins, if he will tell Chief Vette about the map. After all, only he and Trever knew about the map, or so he thinks, and
maybe the map is still on Trever or in his golf bag.
He makes a major decision. He is not going to tell Chief Vette about the map.
“Mr. Cadium, what was your relationship with Trever Byers?” Chief Vette asks.
“He is, or now I guess I should say, he was a good friend of mine who I have known for about two years.”
“Why were you meeting him for lunch today?”
“Trever called and said he had found a book which he thought I might enjoy reading. If I would come up today we could have lunch and he would give me the book. By the way, did you find a book on him?”
“What is the name of the book?” Vette asks.
TC replies without skipping a beat, “I think he said the name was Life along the Carolina Coast (spur of the moment title but not bad) but I’m really not sure.”
“I did not find a book on his person or in his golf bag, but I did notice that all of the zippers on his golf bag were open.”
TC thinks to himself, this tells me something. Whoever killed Trever took the map. But why, it’s only a hand drawn map of a possible wreck off the coast of Pawleys Island.
He uses the word possible because it could just as easily be nothing. TC and Trever have found quite a few nothings.
TC and Chief Vette exchange business cards, “Oh, so you are a federal judge. Thanks for staying around and answering my questions judge.”
“Retired judge,” TC replies, “I hope you find whoever killed Trever. If you need anything more, please give me a call.”
As the chief is about to leave, Justin comes in and says they found the missing golf cart. It was located about one-half mile from the course next to the tidal creek, which bounds Bald Head on the west. Of course, Justin has contaminated the crime scene because he drove the cart back to the clubhouse. (CSI would have been livid.) Chief Vette did not seem that concerned. He did ask Justin to take him out to where he had found the cart.
Murder on the Front Nine Page 3
