A Divot on the Fairway, Chapter 1: The Bogey

I've always hated golf.  Thought it was boring.  That was before my best friend showed up dead on the 7th hole green, flag through his heart.

Later, I sat in the clubhouse bar, face in a warm beer.  I couldn't stand the police presence.  The clubhouse was at least deserted, or almost.  There was a ratty-looking old gent in the back, smoking a pipe and dressed like the 1800s.  I scowled privately, feeling his eyes on me.

"She's back, eh."

I fumed for a moment, then swung around to face him, ready for bullshit.

"What?"

Thoughtfully he inhaled, and exhaled.  This only infuriated me more.  I kept down my wrath in a herculean effort.

"Young chap like you, wouldn't remember," he murmured.  "Young chaps think they have the course all to themselves!  But no."

"Ok," I growled through clenched teeth, rising abruptly to my feet and striding over, beer flowing freely over my shirt and pants.  "Listen, buddy.  My best friend just bit it on his favorite golf course, and nobody can figure out how or why.  So, if what you're talking about is as irrelevant as I think, I'd prefer if you kept quiet and left me alone.  All right?  ALL RIGHT?  ALL RIGHT?!"

"Well, if you're gonna cry about it...sissy."

I did sort of start to cry.  But from, you know, anger.

"Now listen," said the old man patiently.  He removed a dusty cap, crossed his legs, and with a gesture invited me to sit.  "Just sit, and I'll tell you what it's all about."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Life's too short for kidding."

I sat down.  I don't know why.  Years later it would continue to baffle me.

"Now I told you," he went on in the creaky voice, like a '20s radio broadcast, "all this can only mean one thing.  SHE is back."

"Ok," I said, defeatedly.

"They used to call her the Bogey."  He leaned back and the lights dimmed.  In the sudden gloom, the embers of the pipe lit the ancient face in a mysterious glow.  "Nobody knew what she looked like, where she came from, or what her motives are.  But believe you me, she's caused more havoc on this old course over the past century than you can imagine.  The most cruel and unusual deeds of bloodshed and murder!  All hidden from the public eye -- until now."

I blinked in disbelief.  "Are you serious?"

"I've never been more serious."

You could tell he meant it.

Brushing the dust off his knickers, he gazed reflectively into the smoky air.  "Now it began just after the Great War, when we were all on what appeared to be a grand holiday . . . "


[to be continued]