Peter Lovesey - Skeleton Hill

Not many cars were parked outside the clubhouse. He checked the time. Five minutes to spare. Rather than go inside he made his way around the building to the first tee. The two members he needed to meet probably kept good time, one being a military man.

Even on an August morning, it was cool up here, over seven hundred feet above sea level, and he wished he’d dressed as golfers do, in some kind of sweater and perhaps a baseball cap. Nobody was waiting to play when he arrived. In the distance, the pair who had started earlier had already played the first hole and moved on.

Two minutes to ten. No sign of the Lansdown Society. His assumption about good timekeeping was looking faulty.

Then a whirring sound came from the side of the clubhouse and a golf cart glided into view and across the trimmed turf to arrive at the tee precisely on time. One of the two riders was definitely Sir Colin Tipping. The other, at the wheel, halted the cart. Major Swithin was short and elderly, but had more than a hint of military swagger as he stepped off and approached Diamond.

‘Is there a problem?’

‘Not to my knowledge,’ Diamond said. ‘Would you be Major Swithin?’

‘I would. We have our round booked for now. It’s a regular arrangement. Are you a member?’

‘Visitor.’

‘You know visitors have to produce a handicap certificate?’

Not the friendliest of welcomes, Diamond thought. ‘I don’t want to play.’

Sir Colin Tipping was slower getting off the cart, as if arthritis had set in. He looked just as distinguished as he had in the winner’s enclosure. Today he was in a loose-fitting yellow sweatshirt and check trousers. ‘What’s this, Reggie?’ he said to the major. ‘Have you hired the professional to improve your game?’ He chuckled at his own humour.

Diamond showed them his warrant card and gave them a moment to absorb the shock. ‘I don’t want to hold up your round, gentlemen. If you don’t mind, we’ll talk as you go along. All I want is the benefit of your expertise.’ This was a phrase he’d fashioned while shaving, the right touch of flattery, he’d decided. ‘Detective Superintendent, are you?’ Tipping said. ‘He’s a senior man, Reggie. You must have done something pretty serious this time. Did you try it on once too often with the barmaid?’

‘He says he wants expertise,’ the major said. In this comedy act he was definitely the straight man.

‘If that means tips on golf, he’s picked the wrong fellows,’ Tipping said. He grinned at Diamond. ‘Our combined handicap is bigger than the national debt.’

‘It’s about Lansdown,’ Diamond told them. ‘I understand you both take a personal interest in this area.’

‘Who told you that?’ the major asked. He was not going to be sweet-talked into co-operating.

‘The reputation of the Lansdown Society is well known.’

‘What do you know about the Lansdown Society?’

‘That’s what this is about,’ Tipping said. ‘He wants to join. He wants to be a member, Reggie. Shall I tell him about the secret initiation ritual with the custard pies?’

Diamond wasn’t sure which of these was the more tiresome: the churlish major or the laugh-a-minute Knight of the Realm.

‘We came here to play golf,’ the major said to Diamond. ‘Can’t this wait until lunchtime?’

Tipping immediately said, ‘Good thinking. See you at the nineteenth hole.’

‘My time is short and so is yours, I gather,’ Diamond said. ‘We’ll talk as you play your round. Who goes first?’

‘Reggie’s turn today.’

‘I don’t care for this at all,’ the major said.

‘Get on with it, for heaven’s sake, Reggie,’ Tipping said. ‘You just told him you came here to play golf. Some might not describe it as that, but that’s why we’re here.’

‘He’s got a damned nerve.’

‘The neck of a giraffe, old man, and so have we, calling ourselves golfers. Let’s make a start, or we’ll never get round.’

Muttering, the major placed a ball on the tee and selected a club. Before taking his stance he took some practice swings. Then he wetted a finger and held it up.

‘Checking the wind,’ Tipping said to Diamond. ‘He does everything right. It’s the damned ball that gets it wrong.’

The major’s ball travelled not very far and still managed to miss the fairway. He turned angrily on his colleague. ‘You ruined that by speaking as I made my backswing.’

‘Take it again, dear boy,’ Tipping said. ‘It isn’t far off.’

‘I might as well give up now,’ the major said. ‘No one can play under these conditions.’

‘Watch me,’ Tipping said. He positioned his ball, swung and struck it – not far, but at least twice the distance the major had. ‘That puts me in charge of the buggy, I think. Why don’t you hop aboard, Superintendent? Reggie doesn’t have far to walk.’

The golf cart was a two-seater, as most are, with space at the back for the bags. Diamond hadn’t foreseen the pair arriving on one. He’d been wondering in the last few minutes if there was a way he could perch on the back, holding on to the metal strut supporting the canopy. But there was no need if the major was on foot.

Tipping started up and they whirred up the fairway. ‘Don’t get the wrong impression of Reggie,’ he said to Diamond. ‘He’s a good man. Our society couldn’t function without him.’

‘What does it do, exactly?’

‘What was that you said about our famous reputation? I thought you knew all about us.’

‘Only loosely.’

‘Loose is what we are.’ Another guffaw. ‘We try to make sure that this historic hill is respected. We don’t have any official status like park keepers, but we keep an eye on the multifarious activities people engage in up here – and I know what you’re thinking. Who was the lady who said she didn’t mind where people made love as long as they didn’t do it in the street and frighten the horses? We take much the same view. But if someone tries holding a barbecue, or a motorbike rally, or anything that damages the turf, we tell them politely to find another place. That’s fair enough, isn’t it?’

‘So do you patrol the down looking for offenders?’

‘Impossible. We’re a small group. We act on tip-offs, just as you fellows do. We’re in touch with pretty well all the legitimate organisations that use the place. They know we’re interested and they keep us informed.’ He stopped the cart. ‘I’ll take my second, if you don’t mind. Keep a look out for the major’s ball. He has been known to connect. He can be lethal from the rear.’

Diamond watched him take a huge swing and miss the ball completely.

‘Only taking aim,’ he said, and laughed.

His second attempt failed to lift the ball, but sent it some way along the well-mown surface.

As the cart moved on again, Diamond said above the hum of the motor, ‘Did you hear about the skeleton we found?’

‘What a charming line in conversation you have. I was beginning to think “dem dry bones” might be behind your interest in us,’ Tipping said. ‘Yes, we knew early on that you people were up to something. This may sound uncaring considering some poor soul died, but your digging could have been a concern. It wasn’t, because it took place under the roots of that fallen oak tree. Do you know who the victim was?’

‘A young girl, some years back.’

‘Why would anyone bury her up here?’

‘Possibly because she was killed up here.’

‘On Lansdown?’

The cart stopped again.

Diamond glanced behind. The major was in sight, still a long way off. ‘Should we wait for him?’

Tipping shook his head. ‘We meet on the green. We’d never get round if we waited for each other at every shot. He’ll take one or two more than he puts on the card, and so will I, so it’s better if we aren’t too close to each other.’ He chose a club and shifted the ball another ten yards or so. ‘You didn’t see that.’ He strode the short distance to the ball and struck it again, with more success. ‘Par for this hole is four,’ he said. ‘I take about nine usually if my putting is tidy and Reggie is out of sight.’