Reginald Hill - The roar of butterflies

Porphyry shook his head.

"Never really thought about it," he said, clearly struggling with the implications of what he was hearing.

"Why would you?" said Joe. "The only difference is that your shares go to your successor on death whereas with everyone else the share merely returns to the pool. You still with me, Chris?"

Porphyry had got there and didn't much care for where he found himself.

"Joe, if you're suggesting that Arthur or either of the other two may be involved in this business, then really I think you're barking up the wrong tree," he said almost indignantly. "They've been members forever, and good members too. I mean, Tom's vice this year, he'll be captain next-"

This had been a foreseeable problem. Joe had guessed that getting Porphyry to believe ill of anyone of his acquaintance was going to be hard.

He said, "Chris, just listen, will you? You don't like my theory, that's fine. Should know pretty soon if there's any facts to support it, but, just in case, you gotta listen, OK?"

"Yes, of course. Sorry, Joe. Go on."

"Right. Then Latimer probably mentioned this to Ratcliffe King-you know Ratcliffe King?"

"Not personally, but I've heard of him. Little good, I'm afraid. He's not involved, I hope?"

Welcome to the real world, thought Joe.

"I think he is," he said. "King Rat-that's what his friends call him-thought about it a bit, then saw a way that this could be turned into really big money, with himself getting a fat slice, coming and going. It involved getting Sir Monty Wright fired up to throw huge sums of money into acquiring the site to build a new branch of Wright-Price on."

"But why on earth would anyone want to build a supermarket here? Couldn't do it anyway. This is Green Belt. And what about access? Even some of our members complain about these little country lanes. Building new access roads alone would cost a fortune, and they'd never get planning permission-"

"Chris, you'd better believe me, everyone knows- everyone 'cept you maybe-that King Rat's got hold of enough people's strings to get permission to put up a massage parlor in the town cemetery if that's what he wants. As for the roads, I reckon he's been quietly buying up a lot of the land they'll have to cross, at agricultural prices, natch. No, the Rat only needed two things to make this work. First was to get Sir Monty fired up enough to make him ignore the fact that the Hoo's a really stupid place to build a new hyper-mart. That was easy. Latimer proposed Sir Monty for membership and then blackballed him."

"You mean Bert was right and it really was Tom? But that's-"

"Not playing the game? Yeah, these guys aren't playing the game, get your head round that, Chris. And the real clever thing was that Latimer made it personal to Sir Monty by letting him think it was you did the blackballing. Second part of the plot was harder. You had to lose your club membership. The only way they could see of doing this was getting you caught cheating. Like you said, the rule here's absolutely clear. You get found guilty of cheating, you're out, no appeal, right?" Porphyry was still in denial. He shook his head and said, "Joe, this really is crazy… I mean, the Sir Monty thing was nothing to do with me; unfortunate, but these things happen, and as for catching me cheating-"

"Chris, when you're King Rat, you plan things carefully, you take your time. I'd guess that the Triangle worked out half a dozen schemes that would put you in the frame for cheating. Some of them probably involved Latimer or Surtees or Rowe or all three giving evidence. At its simplest, it just needed two of them to testify they'd seen you do something dodgy, and what's the Rules Committee to do, specially as two of them are on it? But best of all would be if they could keep right out of it and someone no one would suspect of having an axe to grind pointed the finger. Some old chum of yours, like Jimmy Postgate." "You're not saying Jimmy-?" "No way! He was conned like everyone else. I bet they had half a dozen possible schemes, but this was the one that worked out first. Lucky for them, unlucky for you. I guess everyone in the club knows about you being such a long hitter that you usually tried to carry the corner on the sixteenth. Jimmy Postgate told me you were one of the few people who'd ever put a ball in his pool. Every time you played that hole for the past few weeks, I bet one of the Triangle was lurking in that bit of wood. Then, during your Vardon Cup match, it all fell perfect. You clattered one into the trees and Colin Rowe saw his chance."

"Colin… how can you be sure it was Colin?"

" 'Cos I had another word with Mr. Postgate and he recalled that just after the ball plopped into his pool, Rowe turned up at his house. Said that committee he's chair of…"

"The Greens Committee."

"That's the one. Said they were thinking of relocating a couple of bunkers and he wanted to sound Jimmy out. I reckon Rowe heard your ball hit the tree, maybe even saw where it finished, so he picked it up, and placed it nice and handy right at the edge of the fairway then took off into the woods and lobbed another ball into Postgate's pool."

"But he'd have needed one of my own personalized balls-"

Joe was getting a bit exasperated.

"Chris, you gotta get it into your head these people aren't playing around. They'd been planning this for months. They probably got more of your personal balls than you have!"

"That's monstrous!" exclaimed the YFG.

"Yeah, that's right," said Joe, gentle now as he remembered the real pain that was still to come. "Monstrous. That's what they are. So Rowe showed up, which stopped Jimmy wandering off into the wood looking for you, which would have ruined everything. Also, after chatting for three-quarters of an hour or so, Rowe suggested they go up to the clubhouse for a drink and even reminded Jimmy to bring your ball along so he could return it to you. They timed it perfect. Maybe Latimer or Surtees belled Rowe and told him you and the guy you beat were in the bar and he was telling the tale of how you came from behind and took the game from him. Like I say, perfect. Except for one thing. Someone had seen Rowe placing your ball at the edge of the fairway."

Hope lit up Porphyry's face.

"You mean you've found a witness? Joe, you are a marvel!"

"Hold it there, Chris," said Joe. "Said I think there was a witness, didn't say I'd found him. I think it was Steve Waring."

"Steve? But if it were Steve… then why hasn't he-?"

"That's the question, Chris," said Joe. "Why hasn't he come forward? I think he was working somewhere round there, maybe he'd dipped into the woods to have a quick fag where Davie wouldn't see him. He heard the ball hit the trees, saw Rowe pick it up and place it, then disappear. Bit later he probably saw you come along and play it."

"But surely he'd have spoken to me?"

"To say what? 'Hey, Mr. Porphyry, that friend of yours, Mr. Rowe, he just done you a favor by really improving the position of your ball.' No, Steve liked you, he knew how you'd helped him and his mum. If someone wanted to give you a helping hand, that was OK by him. He took off and it wasn't till he was talking to Bert, the steward, later, that he heard about all the fuss there'd been when Postgate turned up in the bar."

"So why didn't he say something then?"

"Wanted to talk to Rowe first, make sure he'd got things right. Got Bert to tell Rowe that he wanted a word, urgent. Rowe came out to see him. Must have nearly squittered himself when he heard what the lad had to say. Laughed it off and said, Oh yes, I can explain that. Just hang on here a few minutes while I sort out some stuff I got to do in the clubhouse, then I'll explain to you exactly what's been going off. Went somewhere quiet and belled Ratcliffe King."

"Why King? Why not talk to Latimer or Surtees?"