An Awkward Lie Read Free Page A

in with his father’s key. He himself was only some sort of guest-member, and hadn’t a key of his own. But he had no difficulty about making the call, since there was a public telephone just inside the entrance. Bobby dialled 999 – which meant, he supposed, that he didn’t even have to pay. And got through to the police station immediately. He thought he had better begin by identifying himself.
    ‘My name’s Appleby,’ Bobby said.
    ‘Yes, Sir John.’ The voice at the other end was rather notably brisk and alert.
    ‘No, that’s my father. Robert Appleby.’
    ‘Yes, Mr Appleby.’ This time, the voice suggested a relaxed attention.
    ‘I’m speaking from the club-house on the golf-course. I’ve found a dead man. In a bunker.’
    ‘Found a dead man.’ Now the voice indicated transcription in long-hand into a notebook. ‘In a bunker.’ There was a pause. ‘Are you sure he’s dead, sir?’
    ‘Absolutely sure.’
    ‘Very good, sir. We’ll be with you in no time.’
    ‘Thank you very much.’ Bobby felt obscurely that this colloquy had been a little lacking in drama. ‘Ought I to call a doctor?’
    ‘You can leave that to us, sir. And no need to worry.’ The voice had decided to suggest reassurance and even benevolence. ‘Just stay where you are, and we’ll contact you within ten minutes.’
    ‘I rather think I ought to be getting back to the bunker. There’s a young–’
    ‘We’d prefer you to wait for us, Mr Appleby.’ For the first time, the voice was authoritative. ‘Remaining by the instrument from which a call is made cuts out confusion and often saves time. Routine request, sir.’
    ‘Oh, very well.’ Bobby wasn’t too pleased, and he felt suddenly tempted to administer a smart shock. So he succumbed to decidedly stretching his existing sense of the situation. ‘But it looks like murder, and I’ve seen some men preparing to make off in a car. So you’d better hurry up.’
    And Bobby put down the receiver. It wasn’t without a sense that his last effort had been a shade childish. There hadn’t, after all, been the slightest suggestion that the chap in the police station at Linger had proposed to waste a moment. And something of the marked courtesy which he’d noticed his father was careful to employ in any relations with the country constabulary was no doubt incumbent on other Applebys as well. Bobby didn’t mean to be a policeman. But he had a high sense of the eminence to which his father had attained in that odd walk of life.
    So now it occurred to him that he ought to ring up home and give an account of himself. As this couldn’t be done on 999 he had to fish out some money. But again he got through quickly. And it was his father who answered.
    ‘It’s me,’ Bobby said. ‘Look – I’ve found a dead man in the bunker near the first green. It looks as if somebody had blown the chap’s brains out. So I’ve sent for the police.’
    ‘Not an excessive response, I’d say, to such a situation. Shall you be back to breakfast?’
    ‘Yes, I suppose so. Unless they run me in on suspicion or something.’
    ‘That would be excessive.’ The voice of Bobby’s father dropped carefully to a casual note. ‘You all right?’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘Good – then we’ll hear about it at breakfast. By the way, if it’s a Sergeant called Howard who comes along, he’s a very sound man. Goodbye.’
    There was a click, and Bobby too put down the receiver. It hadn’t remotely occurred to him that he needed to be, as they say, steadied. But, he thought, steadied he had been. He went outside again – wondering whether, when he did get home, it would be with the astonishing news that Bloody Nauze was the dead man. Meanwhile, if he walked to some point well beyond the first tee, he could probably get a glimpse of the bunker beyond the tip of the spinney. Perhaps he would be able to give the girl a wave. It was odd about the girl. He hadn’t learnt her name – nor she his – and