Fatal Love Page 5

  ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking,’ answered Tom. ‘On the other hand, if he wanted to disappear then he would be smart enough not to use them. Perhaps he’s using cash.’ He turned to face DC Bennett. ‘When you get his financial details, check to see if there were any large cash withdrawals in the days leading up to his disappearance.’

  Tom fell silent, and Milner and DC Bennett, recognising that this was DCI Stone’s thinking time, joined in with the silence. Eventually, when Tom did speak, it was not something that either of them had expected. ‘Milner, what do you know about golf?’

  Milner, although momentarily surprised, quickly realised where this might be going. ‘Not a lot. Other than that it’s usually played by older men who probably have too much spare time on their hands.’

  Tom could emphasise with Milner’s disparaging comment. He had tried golf once and had found it a complete waste of his time. Whoever had said that golf was a good walk spoiled had his vote.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t say Mr Burton was old, and, by all accounts, he certainly didn’t have too much spare time. It helped him to relax. According to his wife, it was, after his business, his favourite pastime.’

  ‘Apart from his womanising, of course,’ said DC Bennett, with a slight laugh.

  ‘Was there just a hint of jealousy there?’ asked Tom.

  ‘I think I’ll stick with Julie,’DC Bennett answered. ‘And, anyway, I’d struggle to look after the kids without her.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ said Tom. ‘I’ve met your wife. You would have to be either brave or foolish to try and deceive her.’

  Milner, keen to get the conversation back to the matter in hand, interrupted their discussion. ‘I assume, sir, you’d like to go and visit his golf club?’

  ‘Well, it might be helpful. You never know. Why don’t you arrange it? We don’t want to turn up unannounced. That might put them off their swing – or whatever they do.’

  Chapter 9

  Less than an hour later, Tom and Milner were seated in a small office at West London Golf Club.

  It was only because they had trusted their sat nav that they had arrived on time. Without it they would probably still be driving around. There had been a solitary, small, faded wooden sign, midway along a short B road, indicating a left turn. But even this was partly obscured by an overhanging tree branch. They then had to drive along a narrow, and heavily tree-lined, private road, which had several very impressive houses set back on either side. At the very end of the road were some solid-looking automatic gates, controlled by a security code panel, with a small sign asking visitors to either enter the daily code or press a separate button for assistance. It was almost as though the club were trying to keep people away from it.

  The clubhouse itself was an imposing building, constructed mainly from bricks but with alternating light and dark wood on the front facia of the building. This type of building was unlikely to be built in the modern age and, even though it had clearly seen better days, its architectural grandeur remained its defining characteristic. As they had approached the main entrance they had been met by a woman who, clearly expecting them, introduced herself as the office secretary, and then led them down a long corridor panelled in dark wood, along which were lots of head-and-shoulder photographs of various men.

  The office was very much in keeping with the rest of the décor, dominated by dark wooden wall panels. Numerous scratch marks and indentations on the table and four chairs suggested many years of use. There was no evidence of any effort to repair them. The overall impression all of this gave was of something from a completely different age.

  Seated opposite Tom and Milner were two men.

  ‘I’m Detective Chief Inspector Stone and this is Detective Sergeant Milner,’ Tom said, presenting his identification. ‘Thank you very much for seeing us at such short notice. I’m sure you have lots of other things which you could be doing,’ he added, although he himself wasn’t sure what these could possibly be.

  ‘Well, I wasn’t surprised when I took your call,’ said the younger of the two men. ‘Glyn’s disappearance has been the talk of the club all week.’ He hesitated. ‘I assume that’s the reason why you are here. Has anything happened?’

  Tony Cook was the general manager and the person who had taken the call from DS Milner. As a result of this, Tony Cook had thought it prudent to immediately contact the club’s chairman, Roger White.

  ‘No, there has been no change. Mr Burton is still missing,’ Tom simply replied. He carried straight on. ‘I understand that Mr Burton didn’t actually play the last time he was here. Do you know why that was?’

  It was Roger White who answered. ‘We were due to tee off at around nine o’clock, but there was quite a bit of fog – we tend to get fog at this time of year – and so everything was on hold until it was safe enough to play. Glyn hung around for a while but then decided he couldn’t wait any longer.’

  ‘Did he explain why?’

  ‘Nothing specific. Just that he could be doing other things.’

  ‘And what time was that?’ asked Milner.

  ‘I can’t give you the exact time, but I think that it was around ten o’clock,’ Mr White replied.

  Tom suddenly recognised him from the photograph which had been on Mr Burton’s desk in his office. He had brought it with him and, as he showed it to Mr White, he said, ‘So, you regularly play with Mr Burton.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. We try to play together every week.’

  ‘By we, do you mean just yourself and Mr Burton or the others?’ he asked.

  ‘The weekends are busy times for all golf clubs and so they try to ensure that all four spots are filled. In our group, apart from myself and Glyn, there was Gus Thomas and Greg Wallington.’

  ‘Are they these men?’ Tom asked, pointing at the other two men in the photograph.

  ‘No. That’s Mike Preston and Jim Mason. They aren’t members here any more.’

  ‘Any reason for that?’ asked Tom, still looking at the photograph.

  ‘I think it was something to do with their family commitments. Mike has young children, whilst Jim had work commitments which meant that he was finding it hard to commit the time. Unlike the majority of members, they both still work.’

  ‘Does that mean most of your members are retired?’ asked Milner.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid it does. The profile of our members tends to fall into the older age group.’

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t augur well for the future. Like most golf clubs, we are struggling to attract younger members.’ A hint of disapproval entered his voice. ‘The younger generation just don’t seem to want to spend a few hours playing golf any more. They’d rather do something which doesn’t take quite so long.’

  Suddenly, for probably the first time in a while, Tom could sympathise with this younger generation.

  ‘Would it be possible to get a contact number for these two?’ he asked, tapping the photograph.

  Roger White turned his gaze towards Tony Cook. ‘That shouldn’t be a problem, should it?’

  ‘No. We still have all of their contact details.’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Tom. ‘If you could let Detective Sergeant Milner have them after we have finished, that would be much appreciated. And do you know what they do? You said they both still worked.’

  ‘Why do you need to know that?’ Mr White asked.

  ‘It’s standard procedure. You can’t have too much information,’ Tom replied.

  Despite neither man looking totally convinced by Tom’s answer, Mr White provided the information. ‘Mike works in sales. Something to do with business software, I think. Not my strong point, I’m afraid. Jim is a PE teacher. Works at a comprehensive school, somewhere in Twickenham.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Tom replied. ‘Incidentally, did you play after the fog had lifted?’

  Mr White shook his head. ‘No, I personally didn’t. You can never be sure when the fog wi
ll clear, so I decided not to play. Instead, I spent the time in here working on finalising the annual management report.’

  ‘So did you stay at the club for the rest of the day?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Not all of the day. I had something to eat and then left, I suppose, just after noon.’

  ‘And you then went home?’ asked Tom.

  Roger White looked at Tom suspiciously. ‘Why are you asking me these questions? Do you think I had something to do with Glyn’s disappearance?’ he asked, a hint of anger in his voice.

  ‘Not at all,’ answered Tom. ‘I’m just trying to get a clear picture of everyone’s movements. It’s simply standard practice.’

  Despite Tom’s explanation there remained an uncomfortable atmosphere, which wasn’t helped when Tom then added, ‘So, did you then go home?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ he answered, in a slightly curt tone.

  Milner now joined in the conversation. ‘I understand Mr Burton was a member of the club’s management committee. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, he was finance secretary. Given his background it seemed a logical choice,’ answered Tony Cook.

  ‘When we last spoke with Mrs Burton, she said that her husband thought that . . .’ At this point Milner referred to his notebook. ‘They didn’t take to an East Ender hobnobbing with them. Why do you think he would feel that way?’

  ‘I’ve got absolutely no idea,’ Mr Cook replied. ‘As far as I was concerned Glyn was an important part of the club. I personally always got on very well with him.’

  Tom now spoke. ‘That’s as may be, but a person can be important but still disliked.’

  There was a brief silence before Roger White spoke. ‘Perhaps I can answer that. We are a private members’ club and, even though quite a few of our members are wealthy people, it doesn’t mean that we don’t occasionally have financial difficulties. Glyn joined a few years ago, before Tony, at a time when we were having a few problems. He was able to inject a considerable amount of money into the club, which helped to get us back on our feet. Perhaps some people – maybe some of the longer-standing members – resented that. I personally was not aware of any animosity, but I suppose it’s possible there might have been one or two of the longer-standing members who took a dislike to him.’

  ‘Why do you think that might have been?’ asked Tom, determined to press the point.

  ‘Glyn was a . . . how can I put this?’ Mr White said, before finding the words. ‘He was quite a loud man, with a big personality. Perhaps some of the older members felt uncomfortable with a man with that sort of personality.’

  ‘So, how long have you been a member, Mr White?’

  ‘I’ve been a full member here for over thirty years now,’ he answered, with obvious pride.

  ‘What exactly did Mr Burton do to help out the club?’ asked Tom. ‘He must have done something significant, given everything you’ve just said about him.’

  ‘The club had had a long-running dispute with the tax authorities, going back over a number of years, which finally was resolved – unfortunately, not in our favour – and it was then that Glyn stepped in and offered to help.’

  ‘Was it money?’

  ‘It was, yes.’

  ‘And what was the scale of that help?’ Tom asked.

  ‘About half a million pounds,’ Mr White simply replied. Tom was now far more engaged. ‘Half a million pounds?’ he asked, in genuine amazement. ‘That’s a huge amount of money in anyone’s language. It must have been a big tax bill.’

  ‘As I said, the dispute had been going on for a number of years and the amount involved, what with accumulated interest and our legal costs, built up. It was always thought that the decision would come down in our favour and so, unwisely as it turned out, we had not prepared for any potential financial liabilities.’

  ‘You said that Mr Burton stepped in to help. Was it a loan or a simply a gift?’

  ‘It was a loan, albeit a long-term loan, secured against the assets of the club.’

  It was Milner who next spoke. ‘Did Mr Burton receive anything else in return for loaning the money to the club?’

  ‘He was allocated new shares in the club and it was then he was elected to the management committee.’

  ‘And how many shares were allocated?’ asked Milner.

  ‘I can’t remember the exact amount. New shares were allocated as part of the financial restructuring. I think it meant Glyn had approximately twenty percent of the new total.’

  ‘Would that make him the biggest shareholder?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Yes, it did.’

  ‘It seems a lot of shares to give to a newcomer, especially for a club with such an obvious heritage as this one,’ said Tom.

  ‘I suppose it was, but, as I say, we owed a lot of money in tax, and it was increasing all the time due to the additional interest being charged on the debt. At that time, we were finding it difficult to raise the money. It wasn’t too long after the financial crash, and a lot of our members had seen their own personal wealth and pension pots significantly reduced during that time. Perhaps if we’d had more time we could have raised the money via the members, but, at the time, it was felt the priority was to settle it as quickly as possible in order to protect the club’s reputation.’

  Tom looked as though he were about to ask a follow-up question but, instead, stood up and offered his hand, first to Mr White and then to Mr Cook. ‘Thank you very much for your time.’ He handed each of them a card. ‘If you remember anything else that might have a bearing on Mr Burton’s disappearance, please call me.’

  Milner looked towards Mr Cook. ‘Are you able to let me have the contact details of those two former members now? It might save me another visit.’

  ‘I’ll let you have them right now. It shouldn’t take too long.’

  Mr Cook left the office, leaving the three of them there, and an uneasy silence developed, until Tom broke it. ‘Would you mind telling me, Mr White, if you are also a shareholder?’

  ‘Yes, I am. In fact, in varying degrees, every member is a shareholder.’

  ‘And what is your particular degree?’ asked Tom.

  Once again, Roger White looked at him with suspicion before replying. ‘I have about ten percent of the total.’

  ‘What do you actually get for that?’ asked Milner, with genuine interest.

  ‘The main benefit is that I get a lifetime’s membership of the club.’

  ‘Is that all?’ asked Milner, with obvious disappointment in his voice.

  ‘I assume you don’t play golf, Detective Sergeant Milner,’ Mr White replied, with undisguised brusqueness.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’

  ‘Well, if you did you would, I’m sure, appreciate the value of being able to play at one of the top golf clubs, not just in the region, but in the whole of the country. Our course is regularly featured in the top hundred UK golf courses. It is something we are very proud of.’ He then added, with undisguised passion, ‘Given its history, it is an honour and a privilege to be a member of this golf club.’

  Milner nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. ‘Do you, as a shareholder, receive some sort of dividend or other financial bonus?’

  His earlier sharpness now seemed to have disappeared. ‘Although we are essentially a non-profit-making club, occasionally, in unusual circumstances, there might be a one-off payment to all members. But it doesn’t happen very often as money is always needed to maintain or make improvements to the club. Usually, the opposite happens. If, for example, funds were needed for anything outside the normal, day-to-day operation of the club, then members would be expected to contribute.’

  ‘Like what, for example?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Well, just last year we had to spend almost £200,000 on replacement greenkeeping equipment and building a brand-new greenkeeping shed.’

  ‘That’s a lot of money just to run a golf club,’ said Milner.

  ‘I agree. It is,’ replied Roger White. ‘No doubt you have se
en for yourself that this clubhouse, due to its age, regularly needs a lot of money spent on it. Whilst we will never change the basic structure of it, there are things – expensive things – which need doing. We also had a problem with the location of the old shed. It was in one of the more isolated parts of the club, alongside a few other old huts. In fact, they originally were built during the early stages of World War II, when the army took over the course. They sited a few anti-aircraft guns there and erected the huts for the support troops. As you can imagine, they are now mostly derelict and falling down.’ He shook his head. ‘Like a lot of golf clubs in this area, we were regularly broken into and had expensive equipment stolen. In the end we decided to relocate the shed to an area closer to the clubhouse. That way we could make better use of the security measures.’

  ‘And has it worked?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Well, we haven’t had a break-in since the new shed was built, but, if you want my honest opinion, it’s just a question of time until we do. All we can do is make it as difficult as possible for the criminals to break in.’

  Just then Tony Cook returned. ‘Here are the details,’ he said, handing an A4 sheet to Milner.

  Milner looked at the details on the sheet and, satisfied that everything he needed was there, folded it up to put it in his pocket. ‘Thank you very much.’

  ‘Yes, thank you very much for seeing us,’ added Tom. ‘It has been very useful and educational. I didn’t realise just how much is involved in running a golf club. All that, just to be able to knock a little white ball into a hole.’

  No one there could tell if he was joking.

  Chapter 10

  On their way back to the station, Tom glanced over at Milner. ‘What do you make of that?’

  ‘Well, it certainly adds a new dimension to Mr Burton’s disappearance. Money and envy can be a toxic mix. Mrs Burton’s comment about her husband not being too popular at the club has certainly got a ring of truth about it. I got the impression Roger White was trying hard to downplay Mr Burton’s popularity or, more accurately, his unpopularity.’