It was now or never. We got up from our seats, thanked Ann for her time, and then walked out of the member services office.
"We're going over to that shed right now and confronting Bill," I said.
"Max, do you really think it's—"
"He's hiding something, and we're going to get to the bottom of it. I'm not waiting one more minute," I said.
"Yessir," she said.
"Damn right," I said, laughing. I couldn't help it. She made me laugh, especially since she was clearly mocking me.
We had to talk to Bill. And this was a safe, public place. Not that it mattered a couple of days ago when he gave me the old man smackdown. But this was our best bet. The best chance that we had to speak with him. Or, at the very least, get him to mutter some words at us. The other alternative was showing up at his house. And who knew what kind of scene that might develop into? An angry old man with everything to lose backed into a corner with no witness around. I didn't like the sound of that one iota.
"OK, Max. Let's go," she said.
"Well, it's not like you had any choice," I said.
"I always have free will, Mr. Slade," she said.
"If you think so, Mrs. Slade," I said.
She shook her head at me.
"C'mon already, luv. Let's do this," she said.
We walked into the main hall at Delmar and strolled through the back doors and out toward the golf marshal's shed.
"Is he in there?" I asked.
"I can't see from here," she said.
"Shit, I can't see either," I said.
"Scared?" she said.
"Are you kidding?" I said.
She looked at me as we walked.
"OK, a little," I said.
"See. Was it that hard to admit?"
"The guy kicked my—"
"He's there," she said, interrupting me.
"OK, here goes nothing," I said.
She gave me a not-so-reassuring pat on the back as we walked up to the golf marshal's shed. When we arrived in front of Bill, he didn't notice. He was busy scribbling something into that schedule book. I didn't interrupt him. I just let him scribble away. Finally, he noticed us.
He looked up from his book, his hand still holding the mini-pencil. He stared straight through me, and for a moment that actually felt like ten minutes, he was silent. Then he spoke.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"Good afternoon to you too," I said.
He didn't laugh. He continued to stare at me. The pencil now sat in the book. He placed it in there and brought his hands up by the top of the window.
"I said, what do you two want?" he repeated.
Now, there were two ways I could have dealt with the situation. I could have been nasty back. But, that was only going to lead to an argument and possibly another fight. One in which I'd have a hard time holding my own once it started. Then there was option number two. That option involved trying to make light of the situation, killing him with kindness, and then pinning ol' Bill into a corner. One where he realized that he was caught. One where he knew that I was holding all of the cards.
"Bill, Bill, is that any way to talk to an old friend?" I asked. "I just want to chat. That's all."
He snarled at me. I swear. Like an animal. Some sort of beast.
"Oh, now we're friends?"
"I thought so," I said.
"Mr. Slade, friends don't—"
"See, now we're getting somewhere. Albeit on a last-name basis but better than nothing in my book," I said.
Bill had turned red-faced, again. This was the same Bill that had punched me square in my face. His temper had risen. That was for sure. Might as well keep pushing and watch him boil over. I was convinced that the spit would start foaming on his lips the next time that he spoke.
"What in the world is wrong with you? Huh? You don't get it. I don't want to talk to you or that one," he said, saliva forming on his lips as he pointed to Imogen.
Now that was low. Poor Imogen. She didn't deserve that. She has a name. Use it.
"Now Bill, that's certainly no way to talk to old friends. Don't you think you owe poor Imogen over here an apology?"
"You keep it up, I'm going to open the door, come out—"
"Now how would that look? Huh?" I asked, waiving the printout in his face. "Let me answer that one for you. Not good. Says here you didn't charge me for the round of golf that I had with Lee and Tori Endicott. Somehow, they didn't make it into the schedule. The schedule you meticulously keep. Now, you tell me, how's that going to look to the police? I'll answer that one for you too. Not good. Like you're hiding something. Kind of like when you lied to Imogen and me about meeting Lee."
Then Bill laughed. Right in my face. I didn't know what to make of it. I looked to Imogen for an answer or support, but she looked just as confused as I was. I had expected him to charge like the old bull that he was, but he had shocked me.
"You ungrateful man," he said.
I stared at him, my senses heightened. Ready to defend myself if and when his demeanor changed.
I was so confused by his reaction that all I could muster up was, "What?"
Then he bent his head through the opening, getting it as close as he possibly could to my face. I backed away.
"I was doing you a favor. You ungrateful little man."
Had he felt bad for punching me in the face? Was that his way of apologizing? I didn't buy it.
"Me a favor?" I said, this time trying to rile him up even further.
"Yeah, you a favor. A free round of golf for your friends. A good-bye present to make sure you never spoke to me again."
What kind of logic was that? Surely he thought I would thank him for that.
"No. You didn't charge Lee and Tori for their golf game because you're following orders. They were never here. Just like Lee was never here the day of the Carl's murder."
He laughed.
"You're out of your mind. I never saw the guy in my life."
"That's not what I think. I think you knew Lee, and I think you helped him murder Carl, and I've got the evidence to prove it."
He was still laughing.
"You and that one over there can think whatever you want. Oh, and thank you for reporting me to the board. You'll be happy to know that I've been let go. I'm just here until they find my replacement. So do me a favor. Get the hell out of my sight. You two are the last people on earth that I ever want to see again."
Disciplined. Good. He deserved to lose his job, but I wasn't going to push this any further. He had been dished out his punishment by the board. They kept to their word. But there was more to this exchange. He was trying to play his involvement in Carl's murder off. But I knew the truth. He covered up evidence of Lee's arrival at Delmar. I just didn't know why. Why would he help someone like Lee Endicott? What was his connection to Endicott Financial? Those were the parts that didn't add up.